Do Not Underestimate the Combination of Persistence & Strength

The river does not cut through the mountain solely because of its strength, 

but also because of its persistence. 

This is not the correct phrase. Usually, the phrase disregards the strength in exchange for persistence. I tend to disagree about them being mutually exclusive.

I have breathed oxygen with my own mouth and lungs for a bit over 36 years now. And I can honestly tell you that I cannot recall a time in my life that I did not have to be afraid. If there was a time, my mind has removed that memory from me. But as far as my mind knows, I have lived almost my entire life in fear, in flight. I have a small handful of good memories. And at the moment I'm actually diving into ones I have tried to avoid for years.

So, it's been a challenge. But at the same time, I have suddenly discovered something I never had before - - - freedom.

I FB stalked my cousin. The one who left the most profound dark mark on me. He took advantage of a young child and made her feel like she had an obligation to allow him to touch her in ways no one ever has before. It was horrifying. As a child. As an adult. I took those darknesses and boxed them up tighter than I ever knew. But after my first phase of EMDR therapy, I can honestly say I feel like I am in an alien place.

I have never thought of this person's face without disgust or shame. For him, for what happened, and towards myself. But some of that thinking was way wrong. I was just a little girl. A child. It was NOT my fault. I was not at fault for some sick person using me for their sick personal gain. It was not my fault for being a child, and not knowing how to respond to such an attack on my personal and private self.

I had not realized how much I still carried self-blame for what happened to me. But when I opened the box, out came all this self-hate and blame. And I had to process that. I had to face it and re-dictate my inner dialogue.

And it has been so hard. I saw this phrase about a river cutting through a mountain, not because of its strength, but because of its persistence. It bothered me a little. Because I think the strength of that river is underestimated. Sure maybe on the surface, it looks cool and calm, but underneath it's raging, cutting rocks, moving soil, changing the landscape. And that takes strength. Not to mention the fact that the current could sweep you away in a moment.

So, I am in a strange place right now. Strange in the sense that I feel things I never felt before, like real joy and peace. Then I become worried about my vulnerability. I feel exposed. Unsafe. Unprotected. But each time I take a step forward I am met with loving hands and caring hearts. It's strange to say that it's weird to feel genuine joy. Sustained genuine joy even!

And, if I'm being honest, I'm not entirely convinced yet that it is sustained. I've been up and down this coaster all my life. And the dips just keep getting deeper and darker. I don't want to ride it forever, but I am not entirely convinced yet that it's possible to get off this ride.

But, if it is any consolation...I am hopeful. It's my only thread. The one that keeps me going. That little teeny thread of hope...

that one of these days I will be free from my past completely.

Opening Pandora's Box

 

   I have been unwrapping my tightly closed box of trauma for the past couple months.

   And it's been ugly.

     I've been ugly. I have exploded with despair and sabotaged relationships. I have hurt people I really love. I have gone nuclear.

     But...
     I crumbled.
     I'm 36 years old. I've been battling depression and anxiety since I have a memory in my mind. I grew up encouraged to not have feelings, or if you do, box that shit up. I grew up feeling like a burden, unloved, unsafe... Almost all of my memories are traumatic ones.

     And while all these things have come to a culmination and defined me as a human person, I have to let parts of me go, change, so I can move on from this roller coaster.

     I have not enjoyed the journey of shedding it from my soul. It's been mother effing hard. I have been to parts of darkness that I have never been to before. Made plans and had ideas that I never had before. I crumbled under the weight of it all. None of my tools were working anymore. My box was too full. I lost it.
      And then after that, I sought help, only to face the reality that if I am to ever really truly "get better", to really truly change things, I have to reprogram the way I perceive reality. I have to change my filters. I have to silence my inner demons. And it has not been easy.

     I can say though, now at this moment in time, I have successfully been guided by an amazing professional through one journey to slay a demon of my past. One that surprisingly had more control over me than I realized. And since I have slayed that demon, I have found a new capacity to open my heart to the people around me. The people who sit in the trenches with me while I lose my shit, and hold me until I'm me again. I have found an emotional freedom that I have not really ever felt before. It's new, and almost scary. But not in a bad way. Change requires getting used to. And this change was required for survival.

     And today I dove into trauma number two. My most perplexing one. But I am ever so grateful for people as talented and skilled as my therapist. She has delicately guided me through my darkness and I'm actually finding light. For the first time in a long long time....

I feel
joy.

Small but Mighty

I'm about to disclose something pretty profound. It is my hope that my story brings someone comfort. And perhaps too, in a small selfish way, I also have something created eternally reminding me that I can live.

Small but mighty. This little pill. Avoided for years because of fear. What would it mean? I'm weak? I'm broken? What would people think of me?

I'm going to be honest with you, and it's not easy. I have had suicidal ideation. I have battled anxiety and depression at intensifying degrees since I have a memory to recall. When I was 16 years old I sat, slumped in my small attic bedroom. There on my bed, surrounded by magazine cutouts and photo printed selfies, I held a full bottle of Tylenol PM in my hands. I had every intention of ingesting the whole bottle. But I was afraid. So, I called for help and made a different choice.

Fast forward to another time. My struggles haven't changed but my ability to cope and control it has. I lost myself. I lost my fear.

That, in and of itself was what really scared me. But I held on. My child needed me, loved me, no matter how awful I thought I was. He loved me. Without condition. And I could not break his heart like that. I had to figure out how to want to be alive. To feel something other than complete unexplainable despair. I had to. For him.

So, I tried something new. It was a journey and not always pleasant but, I found something that helps my brain function better emotionally.

Trauma reconstructs the brain. There is research to support that. This little pill has changed my life. It's helped give me the ability to crawl out of the darkness. It has given me my hope back. This little pill keeps me from wanting to die.

Let me tell you this. If you are conflicted about trying medication to help you find your way out of the darkness, just try it. What have you got to lose? I avoided it for so long. I worried what people might think. I worried that it meant I was weak. But if a person breaks their leg they need a cast to help support it while it heals. That is the same here.

My little soldier helps me fight. And I am so glad I gave it a chance.

This My Why

One of my biggest obstacles to finding myself and loving myself has been the fact that for much of my life I've done it

for the approval of others. Somehow I came to believe that other people's opinions of me were what validated my efforts and my existence. And failure after failure I just didn't get it.

I really can't directly pinpoint when my bulb finally lit up, but I think it was around the time that I became a mom.

I think when someone becomes a mom for the first time, they either fall in love with their incredible body and all it has done

or they hate it and begin to plan how they're going to lose that baby weight. For me personally, it was love.

When I was pregnant, my favorite thing about being pregnant was to actually be able to walk around not constantly trying to hold in my gut. I could just let it go and it was ok for me to look fat because I was pregnant. It was such a relief! All along the entire pregnancy, I was just amazed at what my body is capable of. And this tiny creature who depended on me for survival loved me without condition. My husband equally made me feel like I was amazing and beautiful no matter what. And although he'd still love me at 198lbs, I personally didn't want to be that size.

Being so heavy was a strain on my physical and mental wellbeing. Yoga was my first taste of my new lifestyle. Then I began running and lifting. All of these things, in combination with a multitude of other coping mechanisms, are what saves me from the dark deep.

It took me 4 years to "lose the baby weight" physically. But the weight of self-hatred was a lifelong battle. I love finally feeling good about myself. It's like a huge weight has been lifted from my soul. I can just be free to be myself and look however I want that makes me feel beautiful to ME.

I work out often, eat sort of healthy, and do things for me because I feel like I deserve it. I deserve to feel strong. I deserve to feel awesome about myself. I deserve happiness. And happiness doesn't come easily. I really have to work at it sometimes.

So, if you ever wonder if that hot chick at the gym is working out because she wants your approval or attention, well chances are she isn't. She doesn't care what you think of her because she's focused on that next push. She's doing it for herself. Not for you.

This is the Face of Depression

Recently, I read an article (probably on scary mommy...) about a post that a girl made regarding selfies of her before she tried to commit suicide. I thought to myself, "Oh sure,  can relate to that."

But then I recently posted a "happy birthday" post for my mom on FB, and I posted this photo along with it:

Don't I look so happy?! Well, looks are most certainly deceiving here. I had to muster up this smile with all my might. I was working diligently to cover up the darkness that consumed me. I didn't want anyone to know what I was struggling with. But on this day, I hit my lowest low (well low to me). I yelled at my nephew because he put too much water in my potted plant. I lost it. I really completely and utterly lost it. And the moment it happened I knew what I had done was so wrong. I felt awful. Even worse because my pain had caused pain for someone else I love dearly.

But at the same time, this was the moment when it showed. So, my brother and sister-in-law reached out to me. And for once I was grateful. I've always been the "I have to take care of it myself" kind of person. I help others, but others don't help me. I'm a helper, not a helpee! And the utterly petrifying fear that my loved ones would reject me because of my battle with depression was completely wrong. They didn't even make it a thing. They forgave me for what I had done and were there for me when I needed it the most. In fact, I think it brought us even closer together.

Depression has a face, but it's not always the face you expect. You can't just look at a person and see their inner pain. You can't see their thoughts of ending it all. You can't feel the pain they feel every single day. It's super messed up, I know. Depression is weird. And to those who have never been in the depths of the deep dark, well, I'm afraid you just cannot truly understand it. You can try, but you really just can't. You can be empathetic, supportive, unconditionally loving, but you won't ever really be able to feel the utter helplessness and crumbling soul that is depression. It can make the most beautiful and wonderful people decide to end their own lives because it's just too much.

Depression has a face. It could be anyone's face. And not one of them are lesser beings because of it. It hurts in so many ways it's almost unfathomable.

So, just be there. Be loving. Don't judge. Just hold them. Listen. We need others. In the dark deep solitude we will wither and fade without someone to help pull us out. And for those who are struggling...get help! The people who surround you in love will be there.

My Top 5 Netflix "Happy Heart Show" Recommendations

As someone who tends to absorb the emotions I expose myself to like a sponge I have to be mindful of what shows I watch. I watched 13 Reasons Why and it triggered my depression pretty severely. To such an extent that I considered changing my medication because I was worried that it wasn't working anymore. I also started watching Shameless, and while it is an excellent show, it was far too reminiscent of experiences I had growing up with an alcoholic father. That time I caught myself and noticed the change in mood after exposing myself to the show too much. I can recognize the feeling now as I tend to flare up a bit when I watch too much Orange is the New Black.

It has become clear to me now that I am much more sensitive to the shows I watch than I realized. Now that I know it's a trigger I have aimed to find shows that are good and have a more positive angle. These are my top 5 Netflix recommendations for what I will refer to as "Happy Heart Shows".

#1 Life In Pieces This series chronicles the lives of the 3 generations of the Short family as they go about their daily lives. Think Parenthood, but without all the ugly crying. Excellent, clever humor, and I LOL a lot.






#2 Schitt's Creek This show follows a wealthy family whose money was taken by their business manager who failed to pay their taxes. No spoilers, but this one is hilarious and heartwarming at the same time. So many classic comedian actors/actresses in the cast too. Love it!

#3 Parks & Recreation I can never really get enough of this show. This one and Scrubs are my two infinite rewatchables. Probably The Office falls in there too. But I just love the energy of this show. Plus, Chris Pratt...am  I right?! Yum.






#4 Happyish This show is slightly a bit of dark humor, but utterly relatable. Dark humor in the sense that there are mental health issues that everyone deals with. More normalizing I guess I would say and so freaking funny.

#5 Grace and Frankie Lily Tomlin has always been a favorite of mine. She's amazing. Jane Fonda is still looking great. Get these two together and throw in Martin Sheen and you've got yourself a funny take on an unexpected turn in the later years of life.


Happy Netflix Bingeing!

When You Are A Parent Who Struggles With Anxiety You Practice Bravery Every Day And Your Child Probably Doesn't Even Know It

I don't think my son (or any of our children for that matter) will ever truly understand what we do for them. And that's ok. I don't need my son to know the sacrifices I make or the struggles I face for him. But this has been on my mind a lot lately and I'm sure I'm not the only parent out there who deals with this.

Here's the thing, I am an introverted extrovert. I desire relationships and social experiences, but on a limited basis. I enjoy solitude more than I like being surrounded by people. I have few friends, but the ones I have are real and drama-free. I struggle with anxiety, both situational and social. So, when I force myself to take my son to an activity it is sometimes a huge accomplishment for me. I want him to at least have the opportunity to develop socially among children his age. I want him to have a chance to try. Therefore, mommy has to go. And then I'm surrounded at places like the kiddie pool or soccer practice with other parents, some nice, some not so nice. I don't go into any of these situations looking for companionship, but I also try not to be a social pariah. Then there are those situations where some kid is acting like a total jackass and their parent isn't doing a damn thing about it. Someone has to step up and that person is usually me. I am socially anxious, but when it comes to following rules and being respectful to other children (especially mine) I power through, set that aside, and do what has to be done.

I have had an interesting experience this week. My son wanted to go to the public pool to hang out with one of his little friends. I too wanted to hang out with her mom. We arrived early to get a good spot under the shade tree. Then, the one 'mean mom' that I see all the time showed up and my heart sank. Then, the one kid that we encounter frequently who is almost always a little jerk showed up too and I could feel the tightness in my chest grow stronger. Every single time I am in any close proximity to these individuals, something unpleasant happens. Every. Single. Time. I try to avoid it, but it seems inevitable. It might be that my child and "mean mom's" child want to play together, but "mean mom" doesn't want her kids playing with any children other than ones she's already decided are ok to play with, so she redirects them away from my kid. Or it might be that the "jerk kid" pushes my son down or takes a toy away from him then when someone intervenes, either me or his mom, he has a huge screaming fit. So, naturally, my anxiety levels were high.

Luckily, the other moms all congregated at the other end of the pool. We got the whole other side all to ourselves! That was some small relief. But then it started. Jerk kid came with a fucking water gun. Who the hell lets their kid bring a water gun to the pool?! Even the best-behaved children would cause issues with that. It's just too tempting to squirt other people! And, of course, jerk kid started spraying kids and me, in the face and head with said gun. I asked him 3 times, and not quietly I might add, to stop spraying us. That was annoying encounter number one.

Then, there's the toys situation. Many kids bring their own toys to play with at the pool. Apparently. many of them are taught that if you bring a toy you have to share it. That all the toys are a free for all. I do not buy into this bullshit. If my son wants to share because he feels compelled to be kind to another kid who is not being an asshole then YES! Please do!! Hooray! But us having toys does not entitle other children to them. Unfortunately, most of these kids are unaware that I have different rules. At one point the littles decided they needed a snack so we got out of the pool, leaving the toys behind, to have our snack. We allowed other kids to play with them while we were not playing with them. I talked with my son about this and told him that when we were done with snack we could go get his toys back so he could play with them again.

Snack is done. Thus begins my least favorite thing to do as a mom in public social situations, interacting with other people's children and attempted toy retrieval. Inside I was filled to the brim with anxiety, but I am a grown up and my son is still working on social skills so he didn't want to retrieve them alone. Across the pool I spot "jerk kid" with our pool noodle. "Fuck." I whispered under my breathe. I took a deep breath and headed in that direction. As he swam away I spoke to him as kindly as I could. I told him we were back in the pool and wanted out toys back now. I told him I was glad he was able to enjoy it a little bit but we wanted it back now. He refused. He started to swim away with it. He told me 'no'. Then my fire lit. Inside I was pissed as hell. So I grabbed the noodle and thought "good luck fighting it kid, I am stronger than you are ya little punk." I wanted to just yank it out from under him, but I restrained myself (I deserve a gold medal for my restraint!). But I just strengthened my grip and slowly started to pull it away, all the while repeating in my nicest voice possible that we would really like to have our toy back, it belongs to us, we want it back, etc. etc. He still refused and attempted to escape with my noodle. So, I said to him, "Ok, I've asked nicely several times. So, you can either give me the noodle or I am going to take it." He looked at me like "I dare you" and proceeded to try to swim away with it again, telling me 'no'. My strong grip began to lift upward. He gripped it as tight as he could, trying to keep it from me. I continued to repeat that it was our toy and we want it back. He had plenty of time with it and now we want it back. I literally had to pull it up over my head to get it away from him.

And do you think a single parent, including this kid's mom, said anything?! Nope. Not a peep. And that right there is why this little shit is a little shit. Because he gets away with it and not a soul will hold him accountable for his behavior. I would never let my son act that way. Needless to say, I was fuming on the inside. And of course, I was the bad guy. And it didn't stop there. That little punk found another toy that he knew belonged to us. I know he knew because as he grabbed it he looked up at me, saw me moving towards him, and promptly tried to hide it behind his back and scurry away. I took that one too. All the while I could feel the burning eyes of judgment on my back. But I know I was doing the right thing so I didn't care. I was more focused on not losing my temper and stooping to his level.

A mortifying experience. I dread experiences like this whenever we do anything that involves other kids and their parents. I could just stay at home or just hang with my own mom-friends. But that's the point I'm trying to make here. I do things I'm not comfortable with because I don't want to restrict my son's experiences on account of my own issues. I want him to have the opportunity to see that there are good people and not-so-good people out there. I have to demonstrate how to handle either kind of person for him because he's still new to all of this and he doesn't know. He's naturally a fairly timid child too, so an easy target for being taken advantage of by kids that are not-so-friendly and I feel that it is my responsibility as a parent to show him that he doesn't have to just take it. I want him to know he can stand up for himself and I will support him in that. And if not, then he can send in mama bear and I will take care of it.

So, my point in all this is that my son will never know the flurry of emotions that go on inside me when I take him to the pool or the museum or the park and there are lots of other kids/parents around. He will never know that sometimes it takes all the effort I can muster just to walk out the door when all I really want to do is stay hidden and secure in my own little bubble. I can only hope that he perhaps sees me as brave and learns from that. I want him to be brave. I think even with social anxieties, actually especially with social anxieties, we get an opportunity to practice bravery every single day. I hope he sees that. I hope he sees that his mom is there for him. I hope he sees that the expectation of a person in this world is to be kind, respectful, compassionate, and generous. I think most of the kids/parents we encounter are really good people, but unfortunately, it's not always the good people that stand out in our minds. But it is a good reminder of what not to be and how not to behave.

So, if you are a parent struggling in this same way, I hope you find comfort in knowing you are not alone. And THANK YOU for being so brave, facing your fears on the daily, and teaching your child to not be an asshole. We need less of those in the world and more people that are willing to stand up for what is right.

Go out and BE YOU BRAVELY!!