Singing Bowl Sanity

So yesterday was a bad day, hence no post. We all have bad days, it is an essential part of life. Ironically is was not the first time I'd experienced this particular kind of bad day, but it was the first time that it didn't sink the entirety of my day.

I had sent a text to a friend that I was "coming to terms with certain realities." The response was that she had no idea what that means. So here goes:

There is a freedom in acceptance of circumstances, even disappointing ones. I've spent the last few years idling in fear. Fear of what? Loss of all different makes and models. Yesterday though, I addressed those fears, looked them in the eye and said, "Bring it."

I've worked unbelievably hard to get where I am today. There is a part of me that gets tearful at the thought that it could go away and I would have to completely restart my life at this point but another part of me that no longer has the will to allow that to hold me back. Looking at those insecurities and fears and literally saying to myself, "That actually wouldn't be the worst, because you can clearly handle anything," is the nicest thing I've done for myself in a very, very long time.

Yesterday I had a heartbreaking conversation with my longest and oldest friend who lives overseas. This is a person who has championed me no matter what, and has never told me what to do or how to live my life but rather just was there when I needed him. I told him I was having a bad day and I needed to talk. I asked if he could message me when he was free. He messaged me back immediately.

I word vomited my entire heart onto a screen and his reaction was beyond supportive, beyond encouraging, and exactly what I needed. I felt bad pouring all of that out and when I admitted even that, his response was "I'm impressed." He gave me instant validation that it took a lot to say or type or admit it all and that he was there for wherever things went. It was an internet hug of the best kind.

Ironically I had made plans with a good friend to go to a Singing Bowl Meditation class at a yoga center for last night. I had arranged a sitter and was completely open to whatever I got from the experience. The two people that knew the reality of my situation that I had told I was going to meditation and may just cry the entire class, said, "That may be the perfect thing for you today and it may be no mistake that is where you will end up this evening."

They were completely correct. Honestly, I fell deep in love with hippie culture at a very young age. I miss Oregon, but I just couldn't handle the cold, gray rain with what was happening in my life at the time. Everything else about Oregon I completely love, and all of the hippie, yoga, realign, live organically and purely stuff, I always embraced.

When my friend invited me she said "You're literally the only friend I can take." I laughed because I didn't know if that was a compliment? Turns out it was a big one. 

Don't get me wrong, the class itself is weird. The instructor is in a class all her own, but my brain was turned off by force of sound and it was amazing. There were moments where my mind would get frenzied and then some sound or chant or hum would shut it down. It was perfect.

I left feeling a new wave of "rested," went home, had some tea and got some much-needed rest. I'm being incredibly calm and patient with my body today and am feeling more aware. It's one of those things that I definitely wish I could attend regularly but generally just feel blessed for having the experience at all. 

There was absolutely no mistake in that being the end of my emotional day. There were moments were I felt proud of myself for not reacting as I had in the past to the events that led to my near-mental collapse, and it reaffirmed the work I have been doing. There were regretful moments of "how did I get here?" Regardless, the singing bowls seemingly saved my sanity for the day and that is quite a powerful accomplishment.

Being forced to be still and embrace the chakras and heart centers and light? It was necessary and healing for my trauma. Listening to the calming and unusual sounds and just releasing some tension? Beyond necessary. I felt all the stress and I felt it dissipate.

It was a great gift from a friend that I didn't even know how desperately I needed and I feel so lucky to have been invited. I woke up ready to just take things as they come and not just face, but embrace the new realities.

Right now my body is physically challenging me and I'm in the midst of an intensive diet and eating habit change. Mentally I'm having to regroup, rebuild and prepare for anything. Emotionally I'm taking literally one minute at a time. The daily goal is just to not cry.

This is what I know: I will not be saying yes to much through the end of the year in terms of extra plans. I am in self preservation mode and can't let obligatory things get in the way of my sanity. I will drown it out with singing bowls if needed. 

I may not be posting as much, but will definitely do what I can for the remainder of the year. I will continue though, because that is what we do. We continue. So away I go. 

My Gypsy Tendencies

My best friend always calls me a gypsy. I'm guessing she feels I have a nomadic and free-spirited nature but after growing up in the same place for my childhood, it's honestly quite strange that I've ended up that way. When we went to New York on our trip she said it just solidified my gypsy ways.

My dad helped me see most of the United States on many a road trip by the time I was 16. My mom loves the beach so we did the Bahamas and frequent Florida trips in my youth as well. My uncle gave me all Pennsylvania history lessons and living in PA all those years kept me well versed in all civil war and American beginnings via field trips to Gettysburg, DC and Philly.

College brought me the travel bug because I just desperately wanted to experience other places so I got myself a study abroad trip to Europe based out of London and fell in love. I'm dying to go back someday because it was the best three months of exploration, travel, art and history.

My best friend also asked me politely if I ever sit still, and the answer is no. When I'm busy I feel I'm at my best because I can't get caught up mentally or emotionally in unnecessary things. On vacation I wasn't attached to my phone unless I needed directions or was taking too many pictures. I wasn't obsessing about lost and faded friends, unanswered texts, and affording my second Starbucks that day. I just wanted to "be" for a little bit and enjoy being away from home.

I spent 13 years watching Baltimore grow because we frequented it often in my youth. It was the biggest city that my dad actually enjoyed taking us to and we found secret spots we loved. Of course now it's different but also impressive as to what has stayed the same.

Ten years ago in March of 2009 I took myself to New York as a college graduation present. At that time my cousin was going to college at Fordham and living in a crappy apartment in the Bronx with 3 or 4 roommates, his description not mine. He now lives in Brooklyn with his wife and daughter. Both visits he was the tour guide and both visits were incredible.

I don't tend to get overwhelmed or anxious in big cities oddly. I am usually just in awe and so eager to explore I can somehow hone my anxious, obsessive tendencies into some clarity and finding ways to get us to what we want to do. I'm already dying to go back and see more, more, more.

When I started moving I never expected it to become the lifestyle it molded into. I think that I just had to learn to physically move on and also liked changing my horizons. I liked knowing that I could have a new space and new place to make mine; a blank slate. I liked seeing new things and exploring new areas. In 8 years in Eugene, I lived about 7 different places all across the city but only in Eugene, somehow never in Springfield or even Portland.

When we came to Florida it took us about 6 long years to find where we wanted to make "home," and now I'm ready to dig in for a long run until this kid is outta high school. My gypsy ways will have to be strictly for vacations only.

This past week, being all over had its elements of exhaustion and disorientation but also kept things fun and interesting. I had my moments of down time and relaxation, and I had my moments to push through and have fun.

During my times of struggle, my gypsy tendencies work against me. I was dying for a real trip and to see real things and feeling angry and trapped. Now I can better appreciate things. During my periods of growth and healing my gypsy tendencies work for me. I'm able to plan well and enjoy any time, no matter how short, in the space and place we're in because I know how lucky am I that we even get to share such experiences.

I always attribute my gypsy-ness to my trauma. For most of my childhood I thought you would just live the same place as your whole family always. Most everyone was a thirty minute drive at most. And you can go away to college but then you could just come home and start a family. When my mom left, that entire idea was shattered. She wanted out and she left and I kind of followed because if my parents weren't together, what was home? I just decided to embrace the new and try and piece things back together with familiarity of "stuff" rather than places.

My husband gives me a hard time because of how many things are "mine," versus his in different contexts, but for me it's all about the stuff that is "home." Our dining room table will always be "mine" even though it is used as "ours." I was given that by a family I was the nanny for and it has lived with me in every place since I moved out and it always will.

I love to travel and experience and have fun. I wish to do more of it but am grateful for every experience I've had and we are planning to have. I'm a firm believer in "next time" and revisiting places. Maybe I can gypsy it because home is more about familiar people and some familiar artifacts rather than an actual building. Maybe I'm just growing into going with the flow enough that I can spread my wings and fly higher and more often.

For now I like my gypsy tendencies and embrace them. I'm excited to see where they take me.

Reflection Week 2019

If I had to make a summation of this week at a glance, it would be "good." My default response to all the "How are you?," questions these days is, "No complaints." I say this because I'm coming off of spending years as a complainer. The whole idea that I have broken through a bunch of things, has kicked me into high gear reflection lately and this weak has been especially reflective. Therefore it has so been dubbed Reflection Week 2019.

I got honest with a friend via text about my inner dialogue. I talk myself INTO and OUT OF a lot, regularly and daily. It can be simple like "Oh I should get new shoes for that wedding, nah I can just wear those black heels, why waste money" to, "I really need to make time to be a better mom because I get so tired and I don't think I spend enough quality time with my daughter." It can feel frenzied and it can feel maddening but it is part of my anxiety and I manage it as I can.

My husband had a bad day the other day. It was your normal, run of the mill, nothing going quite right day. When he reached out to me just needing to vent, I said, "Hey we all have these days and you learn to manage them better as you get more comfy in your mind and your anxieties, why do you think I work out so much?" He made a silly comment but I told him that working out helps me manage my anxiety and mood so I can feel less physical reactions to my mental upsets and I can better rationalize my inner dialogue. Somehow working out slows down my mind.

My husband did not take this as some "Get fit, get a grip on anxiety," motivational speech I think it just helped him understand more. We are working on that a lot, more understanding. It can be weird to explain to people honestly, but he gets me...mostly.

Other reflections include friendships, relationships, life, family and all the things really. I don't mean this to sound as though I'm sitting quietly meditating about growth, perspective and such, I'm just saying that I've been paying better attention to how far things have come in general.

Sometimes it is hard for me to embrace the good. I feel as though I can handle the chaos, crises and struggle the best, but often the calm and easygoing cause me to become more unhinged. Call it a product of past trauma but admitting that about myself has to be at least something.

Reflecting on the friendship stuff this week has been an emotional roller-coaster. I have had moments of wanting to "cave" and initiate the check in with someone and then just reminding myself that I already tried once or twice and must leave the ball in their court for response or reciprocation and just keep sending them the good vibes of wellness and prosperity.

Creating boundaries is anything but simple. Some boundaries are clear and others feel foggy so finding my way around all of that can be overwhelming but I do what I can. I was invited to something I could not afford this week. It was with wonderful people but it was at a place I'm not so crazy about and I knew between a babysitter and what I would spend being out, it was just not affordable, so I said I couldn't do it. Rather than talk about being broke or not wanting to go to that restaurant, I just said I didn't have a sitter and left it at that. It just wasn't good timing and I'm being fiscally cautious with vacation coming up.

What was interesting for me is that I didn't feel badly about saying no. Usually I feel guilty and like I'm being a drama queen but this time I just embraced it. I'd rather be home unwinding from the week then out dropping $50+ on sub-par food and entertainment, no matter how much I enjoy the company. I've become picky lately about where I'm putting my time, money and energy and it feels more and more okay the more I stand my ground.

In reflection this week I realize I'm less angry. My resentments are being handled more delicately. I'm starting to open up a bit more. I'm guarded in a more positive way, rather than negative way and I'm managing my shame, embarrassment and upset about things in a more constructive way. I'm navigating my traumas at my own pace and I like that.

I had a recent realization about triggers, which is that now that I'm fully enmeshed in the healing process, the triggers between my husband and I and even my child, are going to be coming up and we need to try and negotiate them as a family or at least voice, "Hey that's a weird trigger," so we can handle them better. 

In affirming to close friends where I am on this journey, and revealing slowly more and more about how dark, frustrating and uncomfortable it has all been, it has generally been received well that I'm honest about where I am in the process. Just a handful of years ago I was a mess and barely functioning. I may still have a bad day like that, but now I can better articulate what's actually going on. 

Watching my husband grow and heal, face some demons and just find his footing has been intense. What began as "proceed with caution," is more and more becoming just being impressed with the steps and strides he is taking and has taken. When you live in a place of "Oh that could never happen," or "I just have to accept x,y,z" and you watch those negative constructs being crushed in healing empowerment, you can't help but smile and have a weird sense of being proud of the time and effort put into the growth.

Ironically during my mental, emotional and spiritual reflection, my body has been having a hard time pushing through physical hurdles. You win some, you lose some. How I choose to handle these frustrations say more about where I am than anything else, I feel.

I'm well aware life has it's ups and downs and bad things still happen but considering our last handful of years, I'd like to think of those as "the dark times," and continue on into some sunshine. Moreover in Reflection Week 2019, I like knowing that we've started moving in the right direction, and that we are working as a family unit. On my bad days I worry that this will all drop from under me, or that I'll find a way to screw it up but on my good days I am grateful for the lessons, the journey, the struggles and the little wins that remind me that we're doing better than we think we are. 

I'm not a "Yay I'm finally happy," kind of person. I had a conversation with a friend that has had some similar stress and trauma to mine and I reminded her that there will always be phases of struggle but half the battle is how you approach it. I said, sometimes you need to be angry and upset and sad to get through it and she could just know that yeah, maybe I have no idea of what and how she is feeling but at least I could remind her that she wasn't alone. We both kind of agreed that the world needs more of that.

There were so many times over the past few years I wish instead of being given advice or being told what I should be doing, that someone would have just sat next to me and said, "That sucks but I'm here for you." We feel alone too much anymore, and that is the worst feeling when you're surrounded by people. I think that's why I stopped being a complainer. Not only did it bring the wrong type of energy into my space, but it serves no purpose. Why complain about something when you can work on it? That was my "Ah-ha," moment.

I have a friend that I never actually see. We get together maybe once a year as she lives a good 90 minutes away. We went through a rough phase where both of us were just in bad spots in our lives and we text each other daily just how much everything sucked. We felt empowered by both of us suffering together; it was that whole "misery loves company" mentality. It kept me in a downward spiral for a very, very long time. It was not helpful, in fact it inadvertently just made my depression and anxiety worse. It wasn't until earlier this year when I stepped outside of myself and watch the effects of these interactions, saw what it did to me, and what it turned me into that I was like "Whoa, never again, no thank you."

We don't talk and text that way any more. She seems happier and so do I, it has been noted. It's not because we were bad for each other, we were just using our kinship for the negative instead of bringing each other into a more positive place. We had to grow separately for a bit. We had to heal apart and find our tribes.

So to end Reflection Week 2019 on a decent note, I would say I'm completely a work in progress. Some days I'm a mess. Some days I'm so with it. Everything is in flux, but I feel better equipped to taking it all on. If you are in a dark space, I encourage you to reach out to anyone you can trust. It will be uncomfortable, but feeling alone already can so I ask that you give it a try. Feel free to reach out to me too as I'm more than happy to share more on a personal, less blog-worthy basis.

The Friend Fade

I've gone on about ghosting and such before, but a long time ago I did a personal journal about what I like to ominously call "The Fade." It is something that used to wear on me heavily and make my heart hurt, but now, recently in fact, I have healed enough to talk about what it all really means.

If you get on Pinterest you can find a million memes and articles about friends drifting apart and ghosting and outgrowing each other and everything to trigger you back to whatever social stuff you went through that makes you a little more attuned to things now. I've gotten sucked into the Pinterest quote and notes and have mixed feelings about whether or not it is helpful, but you can find some wisdom for sure.

I'll share my experience then, and what I have learned from it and how I use it now, and hopefully it can help some others feel less alone.

Before I had my daughter I had a tight knit group of amazing co-workers and befriended someone physically, spiritually and mentally beautiful. She and her family got my pregnant self, my husband and my newborn and infant through our first year as a family and I will forever feel grateful for them and miss them like crazy. Just typing this I'm welling up. They were the best ever.

I think being around them was our first taste of a second family home in Florida and we loved it. I considered her parents to be my daughters grandparents that were close by and considered her and her sister all aunties. They were our second family in my opinion.

Parenthood was rough on my husband and I. There were so many really uncomfortable and unfavorable things at play during that first year as parents and I struggled as a mother to balance everything. Looking back now, I wish I had been more open with my best friend about what was really going on but I can tell you, my family is still healing from some of the pain and trauma from that time period.

By the time my daughter was three my gorgeous Tampa best friend and I were barely speaking much. She hosted my child's first birthday party and was my greatest help and she was gone from my life, just a name on a friends list, a person in the background. At the time it felt painful, awkward and anxious but after a lot of reflection I now understand how and why we grew apart.

Between my friend getting her own adult life with her wonderful boyfriend together, getting away from parental units and getting into school, and with my being a fresh mom with a workaholic husband and no fun money or availability for much of a social life, the shift started easily, although perhaps I was too tired to call it out for what it was. She did so much for me and I miss her daily.

When I was starting to get into my worst, darkest stages, when I was very lost and beginning my year long struggle with job changes, weight loss and adulting stuff, that was when the fade began. I didn't feel abandoned in a time of need, I felt like I needed to let her grow and thrive because she was considerably younger than me and very much allowed to go and have fun and be young without my old self getting in the way.

The fade started with simply changing a lot of plans often, and things coming up. If it wasn't one of us, it was both of us having a hard time scheduling and committing. As I became less available due to family circumstances, it made it easier for her to step back more and more. The tagging on social media posts stopped. The liking of the pictures and statuses became few and far between. The texts went from daily to every other day to once a week to once every couple weeks to maybe once a month to nothing. 

After a few months of almost no contact I scraped together money for Christmas gifts for her and her sister because she'd at least touch base to say thank you, or so I thought. I figured then I could check in and try and talk to her. I messaged her mom to confirm they received them and she sweetly said her sister loved them. I didn't hear anything from best friend about it. Ever. We didn't speak for 6 month after I sent the gifts, until the car accident.

She messaged me and apologized for the lapse in communication. She said she wanted to come bring us lunch. The day of the plans she fell ill and couldn't come. We did the whole, "another time," song and dance well with each other. I may have messaged her some well wishes about having no malice that we just didn't fit in each other's lives anymore. The cancelled lunch plans, however, that was the last I ever heard from her 3 years ago.

We're still on each other's social media but I check on her and she seemingly doesn't check on me. The people who knew us as besties say they are surprised that we don't talk anymore. I sent her messages just saying, "I hope you know I think the world of you and wish you well," and such for awhile but then just wanted to let her be.

Sometimes I wish I could write her a letter and tell her about how messed up things were and how I wish I had been more aware, awake and engaged with her to be a better friend. I wish I could say I understand how and why she outgrew me but all I want is good things for her and wish we could check in from time to time. I wish I could apologize for not being more present for her issues while wrapped in my own. But I realize that things turned out how they should, whether I like it or not.

About a year after we stopped speaking I realized how badly her exit had messed me up. I spiraled into a very dark, self-hating, world-hating, negative place. It was a learning experience I needed to have. I needed to make the mistakes I made to get me to where I am now, but it still was shitty. I found the wrong kinds of friends on the "rebound" from losing her, which somehow made it all even worse.

Sometimes I think she knew it all. I think she saw me kind of starting to wither and maybe she just couldn't do it so she just politely excused herself from the table and never returned to dinner. I often find myself wishing I could tell her that I'm okay now; I'm better and still working on my growth.

I cry typing right now because I hate that my daughter only has small memories of all that my wonderful ex-bestie and her family did for us. I hung onto so many silly things from her just because I liked remembering when we were good and close and happy. I talk to my daughter about her on occasion. I like to remind my daughter that she has always been surrounded by good people and love, even when we had rough times. 

The friend fade is rough though. She's not the only person it has happened with but I feel like with the rest of the situations, people have moved onto new cities, bigger opportunities and different horizons but we still do that check in on social media or text where we just say, "Hey I'm so glad you are doing this," or "Congrats." Her and I don't even have the check in. We don't have anything anymore, and that still breaks my heart a little.

If she reads my blog, which I highly doubt, then now she knows all this stuff. If not, the hippie part of me just wanted to put this into the universe because it's part of the healing and growing process.

I've experienced other versions of the fade as well, some with a friend return, and others with a complete ghosting effect but none of it is an easy thing. I don't think I'll ever stop wishing we could feel closure with things. I will always want that kind of resolution, but I'm smart enough to realize that's just not how life works. 

My other sad musing is that, we lose out and experience the fade because we hit rough phases of life that we are so engulfed in that we can't adequately share and reach out to those we need the most during such trials. Maybe it is age but I feel like, we often have these friends that we just hold close that we claim are our "everything" and "always," those people that we will never picture our life not having around, and then they move on and we look back fondly but realize that we can actually live without them, perhaps we just enjoyed things more when we had them by our sides.

I lost a lot of good people that I was very close to during my family trauma. I'm just now owning most of it, and finding my way to talk about it with everyone that survived all of my whims and flakiness in the midst of it all. There's been so much shame and regret to work through but I can now have some real conversations about it. 

I still hold hope she'll message me one day. I've seen it happen with other friends and I will always hold hope, even if we're 80, that we can reconnect. I've made peace with the fact we probably won't. To quote Pam Beasley on The Office, "And it only took 3 years to summon the courage."

Losing my previous Tampa bestie has made it easier for me to endure the whims of other friendships and learn how to balance the positive and negative aspects of those relationships too. I've learned that I have to walk away peacefully knowing that, I put the good vibes out there for a friend but they must return and reciprocate by their own free will. I can't make them be the "kind" of friend I want or need in that moment, that day or that situation. 

Losing her has made me appreciate the longevity of other friendships like my Oregon friends from college and my two oldest friends that have known me since Kindergarten and 3rd grade from Pennsylvania. We still talk regularly. Losing her has made me grateful that I had someone like her to call a friend at all. Sometimes it is more bittersweet than other times.

I've seen some sappy articles about this on social media but this one is from the heart. Some of you will know exactly who I wrote this about, and those of you who have never heard me mention her, now you know why. 

I will always be grateful for the role she had in my life. I feel blessed that I knew her when I did. I feel blessed I can still see her on Facebook and Instagram and know that she is doing okay, thriving even. If you have ever lost someone like this, it can trigger many different reactions and emotions. It happens to more people than we can imagine, and it's often a tough tale to tell, but for today I'm glad I shared mine. 

Therapy Gold Stars And Fresh Outlooks

I'm a pretty huge advocate of personal, couples, and all kinds of therapy. Why? Because it works to have someone neutral to help you handle your shit, in my personal experience and opinion. It's become more acceptable and mainstreamed to go to therapy and I very much embrace and appreciate that.

My husband and I have been going to therapy for two years and this past year was healing and breakthrough, finally. He goes to individual therapy, as do I. It feels nice to have someone on your side who can actually help you see yourself objectively.

I recently received what I consider to be a gold star in my personal therapy and my husband and I definitely got one in our couples session. After two years of struggle, plus another 4 years of utter muck, this feels beyond gratifying.

Having a fresh outlook is not something that comes easy for me. I'm miss obsess, miss overthink and miss inner conversationalist. Taking this down a notch, or twenty notches, has been a daily struggle but guess what? I'm figuring it out.

Being open about being in therapy and having support has been hit or miss. Some people are super supportive and others kind of wonder why I "need" it or spend my time that way. The thing is, even though we act as though our entire lives are on social media and there is no more privacy, all of our inner and mental battles go everywhere with us and no one else can truly, completely know what someone else is going through. Enter empathy. Empathy is huge.

I think most of us can kind of "idle" as a happy depressed person. We can hide a lot. My therapists say often that I rarely come in airing of anxiety and depression, you really have to get under that surface facade that I can wear. Chinks in the armor I like to think of it as. Most people I talk to who have suffered trauma say that people, "Never would have known," because it all looked neat and pretty on the outside. It usually does.

We all handle our struggles differently. Some medicate, some numb, some deny, deny deny. Some have a balance of all those things and some indulge in more of them than others. Life is hard! That's one thing you can't deny.

It is hard work, all of it. Sometimes I'm all happy to go talk it out in therapy and sometimes it can feel heavy. You are forced to face everything you avoid when you're not in that office, which can be so daunting, but then again, so liberating.

The gold stars came from hard work. Self realization, awareness, staying positive through the rough times and appreciating the good rather than focusing on the bad, all helped with the therapist supporting and stating how impressive it was and acknowledging the progress. This made me smile because sometimes after those sessions I don't actually feel better.

My personal therapist reminds me often that it's not some requirement of therapy to leave feeling better but she likes to check in towards the end of the session. Usually therapy sessions don't go how I think they will, either. I'll go in there ready to hash out some stuff and leave having focused entirely on a separate issue that I didn't even know was in there. It's complicated.

I think a fresh outlook is just another form of hope. Feeling hopeless is crappy. You can spend years wishing, hoping, even praying but when you put in the real work everything can turn around. I made excuses for years to keep us out of therapy, but it's the best time and money I've ever spent on something considered to be a luxury or non-essential thing. I don't regret any of it.

Healing from trauma and brokenness is hard work and it takes a tribe, openness, and in my humble opinion, therapy! You don't have to agree. In this day and age we have so many outlets and opportunities to find help all over, but for me, and for us, we needed some professional help. Not being ashamed of that, is also huge for me. 

I head into the long weekend, the time with family, with all of the things with a fresh outlook and it feels really, really, long overdue and fantastic. Not carrying extra stress and worry is a feat all on it's own for me. If you have any questions about my journey, reach out, because I'm going to be talking about it more and more. 

Go enjoy the 4th of July holiday, readers!

The Reasons Why I Think Netflix's Series "Maniac" Is A Gorgeous Mental Health Awareness Journey

Netflix released a show called "Maniac" which has been on my "I have to sit down and watch that" list for almost a year or whenever it first came out. I love Emma Stone and Jonah Hill, especially together.

I was probably the only person on the planet who didn't understand all the fuss about La La Land. Don't get me wrong, Emma Stone performed wonderfully, sang and danced like a champ, but the plot went from weird to worse and then was so utterly depressing I would have rather just subjected myself to the Notebook twice in a row. On top of that I found the only cute scene to be the one where they are literally dancing around their own attraction, but who doesn't want to stare at Ryan Gosling? So, I lost 2 hours of my life, whatever.

I consider Maniac as Emma Stone's personal apology to me for La La Land, as ridiculous as that may seem, it makes me feel better to think of it that way. I found the series to be a strange triumph.

I'll keep spoilers to a minimum as I encourage you to watch on your own, but it's futuristic, trippy, sometimes a little out there, gripping, dramatic and emotional.

Long story short, in a somewhat futuristic version of NYC we meet Jonah Hill's character, who is immediately shown as confused and quickly outed as mentally unstable. This is followed by meeting Emma Stone, who is definitely fragile, possibly addicted and reliving some trauma, by her own choice.

The stories wind you all over, but Emma Stone and Jonah Hill end up testing a pharmaceutical drug to "fix" your mental and emotional trauma from some new futuristic company run primarily by forms of Artificial Intelligence. It takes us inside the minds of Stone and Hill for these weird dream-like reflections of what actually happened to them in real life, or some semblance of it. Somehow, against every programming issue and all odds, Hill and Stone keep meeting in each other's dream sequence as if the universe is pushing them together.

Throughout the series they drop these beautiful little hints to say, "big pharma can't cure," that's what therapy is for. Little nuances of "therapy is good but invokes complicated emotions," and "addiction is another hurdle of these advertised cures, by the way" are peppered throughout the story, along with other weird life truths that are often glossed over in most series with comedy, instead of confronted.

I will spoil a little, this is not a love story or even romantic. It's more, bonding through shared trauma and understanding how messed up things can be. It touched my heart by the end of it, to know that you could embrace your struggles if you have the right tribe:

I think we often find ourselves in a place where we feel like we need to find a cure for our ills and for most of society, we self medicate with what we can get our hands on: alcohol, recreational drugs, coffee, soda, food, cigarettes, the gym, how we eat, the list can go on and on. 

Then we see great advertisements offering a "cure" for your anxiety, depression and so on and so forth when really we just need to face the demons. This whole facing your inner demons thing is handled quite intensely and beautifully throughout the series for almost every character with which it is associated. It's figuratively, metaphorically and plainly executed throughout the stories, now that I think about it, and it's entertaining as hell.

This was one of those shows I just couldn't stop watching in terms of, you're locked on the screen because you need to try and make sense of it all. There are so many facets within that you're like, "Is that real, or imagined?"

It was darkly funny and ironic at moments, but ultimately very dramatic and heartfelt. Starting the series came to me at a time when I needed it most. It was a wonderful distraction but also kind of a reminder that even in dark, uncertain, weird mental times, you can find commonality and friendships.

If you can't get into the dreamy, whimsical fantasy mixed with bits of reality, you may not be able to get into it, but I for one found it refreshing and comforting. I commend Jonah Hill and Emma Stone for their artistic adventure. Currently this only has one season, and they ended it in such a way that a second season isn't necessary, but I'm kind of open to it.

Happy Wednesday readers! If you need a weekend binge-watch, you're welcome!

I Suck At Faith

I was raised in a Presbyterian church as a normal, average, "PK" or "Preacher's Kid." Sunday School, Potlucks, BBQ, Sermons, Funerals, Weddings, Baptisms, the whole nine yards of protestant life. I was the kid who played in church and loved to be there. I wanted to take all my friends because church was the best.

In 3rd grade they put me in Catholic School because all my older cousins and my mom had gone to the same Catholic Schools. Religion was my best subject but I learned fast and the hard way that not all religion was the same. I got bullied a lot for not being Catholic. It's not something you can hide because if you don't go through 1st communion you can't have any communion at all in the Catholic church. So while everyone else went up to the front, I stayed seated, not able to participate. 

I can remember two times, both of which I've written about before, where all of my concepts of faith were completely shattered, and both happened before I was 16. To this day, neither of those situations was fully remedied. It wasn't until I was 17, had moved from PA to Florida, then from Florida to Oregon, where I finally just retired from the whole church thing. Granted, my mom and I never even looked at a church when I spent my junior year in Florida; the closest thing to a religious ritual for us was trips to the malls.

My dad was still preaching when I moved to Oregon, but his church was a good 45 minutes away. In the progressive, hippie and free thinking city of Eugene, it was easier to find Pot-dealers than church-goers, and no one who went to church spoke about it. I never had a single person invite me to a church in my 8 years in Oregon and it wasn't because I was a known preacher's kid. It just wasn't a part of my college life.

I don't know how to better describe my current situation as just the fact that I suck at faith. I know a few people who have this unyielding and compelling faith whom I admire so very much, but after a quick conversation with a mom friend who has shared some trauma with me, we kind of acknowledged that while we admire those with it, it's not so easy for everyone.

I read the bible a lot in my youth. I had many discussions with my dad and loved to study all forms of religion so I understand it all, it's just hard for me to jump in head first. For me it comes down to owning my trauma. Until recently, and I mean within the last 6 months recently, I didn't know that the many things I'd experienced in my life were allowed to be called "trauma." I thought they were just bad things that I had to learn from, so dealing with that is a lot as it is.

I've heard a lot about the millennial generation professing the one true truth as "my truth," which I think has some merit in that we are in a time of continued identity evolution. There is a lot more to consider now, than ever before. But also, so much involved with religion has become unflattering and volatile. It's a double edged sword.

I have a "home church," a church I love and identify with for the first time since I was 13. However, this came after visiting two churches that just did nothing for me at all and were part of ritual or expectation rather than "filling my cup." Where I currently attend has brought me amazing friendships and great opportunities to serve the community, which are incredibly important, but I still maintain, in general, I suck at faith.

I think when you spend your life in close proximity to addiction, alcoholism and chaos, it's more difficult to find your way, as rather you are always focused on what's in your way. I wish I had the kind of support to be free in affirming faithful ideas and constructs but I just don't, and that's just par for the course right now.

Talking to anyone about close ties and experiences with family members and loved ones in the throws substance abuse is very difficult, let alone dealing with it privately. Unfortunately, like it or not, church gossip is as easy to get to as a copy of the bible when you walk into worship, so protecting any sense of privacy can feel alienating and a kind of lost cause. 

Last week during horseback riding lessons we spoke to this young girl who had been riding since she was 7. My husband mentioned church and this 14 year old girl said, "You should come to my church! We'd love to have you!" She spoke with pride about what it was like and that even if we had a church we liked, she'd like for all of us to come to hers. I just watched her talking to us about this and was in awe of her. This girl had no fear or reservations about talking about where she held her faith. She was just as happy to talk about her church as she was about her iPhone, her sprained wrist and her horses. 

I think I was like her until my first experiences with family addiction. I think I was able to stand taller before the engulfing force that my early trauma took from me. And I'm sorry to say that dealing with the effects of the substance abuse of others is still very much a part of my daily life, and what keeps me from sucking less at faith.

Without outing everything about my personal life I can report that, although I don't struggle with drug or alcohol abuse, save from being a mother and 2 glasses of wine giving me a headache if I don't have enough water, or beer giving me stomach cramps, it's something that I have never lived without. It is a constant. For many people reading you'll reach out and say this is when I need my church and to find my faith most, but for those of you who have known me the longest, you'll know that's just not an easy thing for me.

I'm not so sure faith is "easy" for anyone, but for me it's just a work in progress like everything else in my life and my best compliment to myself about it is, at least I'm honest about it. I refuse to hide the struggle anymore because it adds too much extra stress. I suck at faith but I'm willing to work on it. For those of you who have that strong and unwavering faith, you're always allowed to share with me because I am well aware that learning about it incredibly important. 

In the meantime, I am healing and working hard on finding ways back to myself. I'm taking the Sundays I need to for a day of rest and late breakfasts, and I'm done feelingly badly about it. I'm taking every lesson I can from every sermon I attend and I'm trying to try to suck much less in the hopes that one day it will truly rub off and become easier for me. Until then, I just keep learning and doing what I can to keep on keeping on; that may actually be the religion in Eugene. "Keep on keeping on." 

When You Can See The Calm

I'm not even a little bit of a calm person. No one would ever list "calm" as some kind of attribute for Alison. In an effort towards more disclosure, I can reveal that my life the past handful of years has been lived in a, for lack of a better phrase, "Terror state," or limbo of, "fight or flight." I'm only just now starting to realize, assess, and repair the damages, and with each step comes a vision of calm.

See, I'm that personality that can hold a steady hand in a wave of chaos.

The above image is from my all time favorite episode of Friends. Rachel is desperately trying to take control of the mayhem from Joey and Chandler "winning" their apartment and she says she has the steady hand while we are seeing it shake and tremble perfectly, all the while she's claiming confidence that she has "the steady hand." This is me, always.

If you looked beneath the surface, and I have spent my life mastering my "game face," by the way, you could see my shaky hand. But boy did I talk the talk! I had it together! Things weren't "that bad," and everything was "fine." Now I'm owning up to it all, in bits and pieces, of just how "not fine" I was.

Seeing calm on the horizon is definitely new though, and it can feel slightly uncomfortable. I approach with great caution and know that there are still miles of hurdles before me, but am approaching them with less, depressive and negative assumptions.

Now when I call it a "terror" state, let's make clear what that has meant in my life. For me, it was not knowing if we would be okay. I had no confidence that we could afford anything really. I had no idea how I was going to get a better job, a promotion or anything to support my family where I wasn't mentally beaten down daily and berated. I had no promise of steady income from my husband's profession, which had helped him condone and utilize a lot of unhealthy practices in turn. I was breaking down and screaming over really simple, stupid, and unfair things at myself, at the dog, and at my daughter because my world was spinning and I felt immense isolation.

There were a very small amount of people that when I started to let in on some of my realities, were kind and open. A lot of friends had intense advice that was really more stressful for me, no matter how well-intentioned. Then there was a lot of reactions of not remotely knowing how to react, which made me feel like I was over-dramatizing or just being unreasonable.

As far as "fight or flight," I just kept running over and over and over the "stuck" feelings and thinking okay, "do I keep fighting the same fight without being heard? Or do I just give it all up and see if I can get some support and help?" Life had some pretty interesting detours to this question being answered that warranted my own detrimental choices and road blocks, but for the past year and a half, a great awakening had begun. And I've been incredibly aware of it's impact on my continuous journey.

Two simple events, about 8 months apart, completely changed me. I'll leave the entire stories and their details for my book one day, or so I hope. Regardless, the point is, the two events showed me: This is exactly what you had been fearing, and in worse shape than you had originally thought. And, it's not just you; you're not crazy, out of line, overbearing or unreasonable in this and it's going to be a really long, tough, journey to heal everything.

Through this I realized, it's not worth all the stress, upset, complaining and anxiety anymore over everything I can't control. I can only control my own reaction to what's in front of me. Time to stop being angry and to just let it all go, and start taking everything very slowly as it comes. I'll elaborate a bit.

Knowing that the situation, the troubles, the stress and upset was no longer just in my head and my "making a bigger deal out of something than it was," gave me a freedom I never thought possible. Knowing that the never-ending, redundant argument and complete mental beat-downs weren't actually about me, lessened the anger and made me more aware of how they happened and why. Discovering that my selfish, unbearable phase was the same coping mechanism I used when I was 16 to combat my mom's relapse and, again, it didn't work, was enlightening.

Put all of these things together, with extra guidance and some "social mining" if you will, and I can finally see the calm. It might seem weird that I'm saying you can see a "feeling," but what I mean is, I can see the difference, I can feel the changes and I can embrace what they are bringing with much less fear and petition.

The perfect example? I don't fly off of the handle anymore at really silly things and here are two great ways to exemplify that. My daughter has gone through the fearing phase in terms of her routines and stability, when plans get shaken, changed or deterred she gets upset, just like mommy. She is also always afraid she'll "get in trouble." I never wanted her to be afraid of me, only know I'm the mom!

So, the other night she spilled milk on the table cloth when we were having dinner and instantly got so upset and started to cry. I said in a neutral, calm voice, "It's just a spill! Mommy spills coffee grounds almost every morning. I'm a spiller! I'm a klutz too! We have a washing machine and it's completely fine but let's just clean it up. I'm so glad you're sharing your feelings and your reasons for being upset with me about it because I get so frustrated when I make a mess too, but what's important right now is to clean up the mess please. Okay?"

She instantly calmed down and just handled the task at hand. She helped me clean and we went back to eating dinner and talking and laughing and there was no blow-out or tantrum. I felt the difference within myself as well. That reaction was less stressful than yelling. It didn't mess up my internal rhythm. It didn't derail the whole night. This was a little change that was a huge, huge, win.

Another example was last night, for the first time in over a year, my daughter had an accident in her bed. We just got her a new mattress and loft bed for Christmas. It's kind of an annoying thing to change honestly. So last night just before midnight she called out to me and told me. I didn't yell or get annoyed or upset. Yes, I wish I wasn't woken up but I also am glad she came to me.

We both got up. She said, "I'm sorry mom. I need to change my pajamas and then I can help." I took a deep breath. My husband text me recently he was on his way home. I text him to come help, but my daughter and I ended up getting everything done before he arrived back. And we got it done efficiently. She got me towels and wash clothes. She then put them in the laundry. She took her stuffed animals back on and crawled on corners to secure fitted sheets. I bumped my foot and my head in all the mania. I did yell out that I was super frustrated I was being clumsy, but was also half awake. My daughter said, "Mom, I bump my foot there a lot, and it's tough to be careful. I'm barely awake too, really tired, but we're almost done. Thanks for helping me." It was perfect.

At the end of the exchange before a tuck into clean sheets, I said, "You're not in trouble baby, accidents happen. And you said you went right before bed. But do you understand now, that when mommy says you must go before bed, that this why it's so important and if your body wakes you up, you just get up go to the bathroom no matter what?" She nodded, we hugged it out and went right back to bed.

Little things. Big wins. Life is hard! EVERYONE, has challenges they never meant for or fathomed could befall them. It could be financial, emotional, physical, mental, or a mixture of them all, but we all have our "stuff" that can really be difficult to navigate. It can be hard to talk about it in a good, or constructive way. It can be exhausting to try and tackle. But as my favorite uncle says, "We continue."

It's good to pray, for sure. It's great to go to therapy if you can. It's amazing to find SUPPORT that works for both parties, meaning friendships and groups and social things. It's not easy to find balance in getting what you need from it all. It's not easy to find your footing and not feel so "wobbly." So my advice is to take the little strides that are big moments and hold them close. Remember the impermanence that is this thing called life. Embrace the cliches because "this too shall pass," and NEVER hesitate to tell SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE, that you're going through some stuff and just need someone to listen. You will find your way out of the muck even if you know you'll need to acquire more supplies and a lot more patience for the long hall, and I hope I can be a good example for that!