Month: January 2016

Apples to oranges

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blog apples2oranges pic

APPLE TO ORANGES

“Whatever happens to you, belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself, even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will. “ – Cheryl Strayed

There were many years I truly believed it was impossible to take any more blows. I was sure that there was no humanly way possible to survive them if I was forced to take another hit. I thought I was the only one that endured that kind of tragedy and pain to the extent I did and within the short amount of time that I did. In the same breath I’d find myself looking around and thinking ‘don’t complain, it can always be worse, you have so much to be grateful for.’ But I was wrong – about most of it.

Maybe by constantly feeling as if I had to bury it, that I wasn’t ‘allowed’ to complain, vent or cry about it – I was only making it worse. Maybe feeling like my circumstances were less then so many others or that I didn’t have the right to feel and think the way I did, only prolonged my healing further. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had alot of safe havens and wonderfully supportive people in my life (God only knows they listened to me like a broken record of the Titanic song replaying over and oveeeeer!!  Even though I had those outlets I was still always thinking I didn’t have the right to feel bad, sad or mad about certain parts of it. And more importantly I think the focus of those venting sessions were being placed on things and people that, at the time I thought were the issues. Primarily because I couldn’t say what I was actually thinking, or perhaps I just didn’t allow myself to go there mentally. It was as if the only emotion tied to her was sadness and the only one tied to him was anger. I couldn’t be mad at her or sad over him because it wasn’t her fault she felt that way and I couldn’t cry about someone who I was supposed to be happy I was rid of. It’s as if it’s ingrained in us to always remember ‘it could be worse’ or ‘at least you aren’t them!’ So, while I had outlets, I was always playing this game with myself that I needed to quit, needed to get over it, needed to stop thinking or feeling certain things as they arose. So, instead I’d go back to my default emotion and cry or rage depending on which one it pertain too 

There’s this constant comparison in our world that we always need to shut up and just be thankful. While gratitude is important, burning our stories and emotions surrounding them, only further suppresses what is already there. We have every right to endure them in whatever manner we need too in order to work through them. It’s as if we can better justify what’s going on in our life at the time by doing things such as self talk like ‘get over it’ or ‘just be grateful’. Maybe that’s why we endure those relationships for far longer then we ever should’ve allowed, wallow in guilt or pity towards others, staying bound to their ways, or stay in our own hellhole of a prison, induced by depression and self hate for years beyond what was needed. Maybe by just owning it and feeling every terrible aspect of it, we’d be able to move through it faster.

Now, 8 years after her death and 7 post separation, I’ve had to relive every dirty and sickening detail of both. And each time they’ve resurfaced, they’ve come back at a greater intensity because of it. So, maybe you should scream into your pillow when you need too, cry in the middle of the store because you thought for a split second you seen a glimpse of them, laugh because that song that just came on triggered a memory. Maybe there isn’t an answer for everything, maybe we need to feel it for what it is because it’s our story. Maybe the constant comparison is doing nothing but driving us all deeper into a state of hell and oblivion. Maybe instead of thinking we’re entitled to all the material things around us, we should realize we’re entitled to our emotions surrounding our circumstances. Maybe then there’d be less holes in the walls or terrible things said and done, maybe there’d be less depressive states, less cheating, less hate and anger. Maybe if we’d just allow ourselves to act or react at the time that the actual emotion occurs instead of telling ourselves how ridiculous we’ll look crying for no reason, or screaming in our car at a red light is taboo, the only ones we’re hurting is ourselves.

Healing comes from within, and it comes from no one but ourselves. Maybe when we just being a little truer to our emotions as they arise, truer to our journey and hardships as they cross our paths, maybe we can move forward – for real. It’s OK if you feel like your world is falling apart on account of a break-up, or that you won’t survive if you loose your parent to a disease, or that you can’t possibly face another soul in public after an embarrassing charade at the local saloon or that you’ll be a let down if you lose your job. It’s OK because I know what all of them feel like.

 When you look at the grand scheme of things – it’s terrible right then and there, but then again, it was terrible in 9th grade when the opposite sex turned you down. It was terrible when you rolled your car in your driveway (oh wait, maybe I’m the only one that’s ever done that ahahahaaa) It was terrible to get the rejection letter to your college of choice or first pick job. many have been terrible in your life, and at the time, they needed to be and were warranted for their own reasons, but you survived them too. Maybe the trick to surviving has more to do with being OK that things are shit right then, and less to do with comparing our story to the next persons. Maybe while saying our ‘gratefuls’ we can also curse and cry about the things that aren’t so great. Either way, it’s worth a try to allow yourself to feel every corner of grief, of loss, of the unknown, of being scared shitless, of anger, rage hate, fear, sadness and love all at once! (Yep, there are days it happens just like that – one big ball of ‘holy shit – I’m laughing through my tears while punching my pillow! As different and unique as all of our stories are in so many ways, maybe our reactions behind them aren’t as crazy as they may seem, or not to the extent that we feed ourselves anyways.

Continue reading Blind Faith

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Rear view mirror

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rearviewmirror

That rear view mirror, I’m realizing – is where I’ve spent a majority of my life. Always staring back at another door closed. Whether it was slammed shut, nicely closed, left half open for torment (by no ones fault but my own) or I was forced through it…that mirror is where I’ve spent the last few years of my life. Trying to figure how to edit the picture because I’ve hated so many details of it.

I’d become resentful of the good just as much as the bad. The good was a reminder of where I wasn’t anymore. And a constant threat that I may never achieve “it” again. I hated how intense the bad parts were, and the overflow effects of them. Every part of my life suffered in some degree from the lack of control over the deeply ingrained sadness and anger. Every picture triggered a memory. A memory of when Josie was still here, what my weight was, what my dreams and aspirations at that time consisted of, a reminder of what I had lost. After my daughter was born was one of the few times I remember feeling fully content in every aspect of my life. But as different aspects of my life began to unravel that faded as well.

To look back at that blurred picture of my past there were 2 massive gashes that split my world in 2. The first driven by sadness and guilt, it’s as if they’re chapters labeled ‘pre-Josie and post-Josie’ and the second driven by anger and shame, or the ‘pre and post-divorce.’ It’s as if they were historic “Eras” in my life that set the stage for what was to come. From then on almost everything was replayed on a daily basis, constantly wondering where I went wrong in both places, both with her, and with him. Hating myself even more for not being able to help her and not being able to keep him. For never measuring up, for feeling lost, for being broken, for being everything I never thought it was possible to become, especially in such a short amount of time.

Stage 5 is Acceptance. 8 years later, I’m finding I’m still learning to ‘accept’ little aspects that perhaps I haven’t put to rest. Maybe acceptance is realizing that that mirror needs to be shattered. Because no matter how many times I go back and replay it, try to figure out exactly at which point I went wrong, was it how I said it or was it that I didn’t say it? Was it that I didn’t love hard enough, or too much? Was it the tone in which I said it or the manner in which I did it that sent off the wrong message? Or, was it that I did all of them, I just did the wrong ones with the wrong person? Maybe it was that I should’ve loved her more and him less, I should’ve said more to her instead of giving into the argument with him. 

You know what I’m learning to say to that – it’s all fucking bullshiiiiiiiiiiiit!! Every word of it. The truth is, it doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do, how I said it, or if I said it, how I looked, how I felt, what I thought – the point is – this is where I am now. There is no such thing as a ‘filter’, a ‘crop’ or an ‘edit’ button on life and there’s certainly no such thing as rewind! I’m sick of beating myself up for it, I’m sick of reliving it, I’m sick of wanting it to look and be different, I’m sick of the emotions that arise when I do relive it, I’m sick of the energy and time I put into things that will never make the outcome any different then what they are.

There are many days that I hate that this is my life and my story, because I feel like it could’ve and should’ve been different. But, what if, we could hit the rewind button and we did it according to the ‘textbook’ way and it still ended? Maybe with a different ending, but the same result nonetheless? What if she had been killed in a car accident instead of overdosing? What if he was honest and asked for a separation instead of lying and cheating? What if I would’ve just listened to my gut every time? Would it have made it a little less painful in some ways? Perhaps. But would it have changed the end result? Less then likely. Because sometimes it shakes out a certain way because it has too, because maybe that’s the only way that we’ll wake up and see things in a different light. Or, maybe that’s the only way we’ll finally walk away for good and know that going back is no longer an option. Maybe I put up with it for so long and just kept signing myself up for one more round in the ring after the other until I finally had to have the door slammed in my face so I’d get it…like for real! Maybe I wanted control of something I never had control of to begin with, maybe I wanted to fix something that wasn’t meant to be fixed, maybe I was being told and shown that I needed to be done trying to make something out of nothing. Maybe I have been far more lost and broken because of all of it. Maybe…hopefully…I’ll come out stronger and farther ahead because of it.

Whatever the case may be, however it plays it, peace out to the rear view mirror. Adios to the replays. And a good square kick in the ass to the self hate, blame and shame I’ve allowed myself to feel and endure since those ‘gashes’. What’s done is done, if I don’t want to relive it then I need to make sure I heal from it and move forward, leaving the shattered pieces where they may have fallen. I can’t keep trying to put things together that were meant to stay broken, I can’t keep trying to fix people and things that aren’t meant to be fixed, nor do I want to be. A majority of it will remain shattered and tainted, and that’s ok, it’s part of my story and what makes it mine. I don’t want it to own me, to hold me captive, or to be my only story. I want to be able to look ahead with appreciation and enthusiasm, I want the rest of the story to consist of more then that shitty, smeared and broken, ugly and torn past. And the only one that’s sitting in the drivers seat is me. I’ve spent the better part of 8 years with the loaded gun in one hand and the keys in the other. Am I going to pull the trigger over and over or am I going to break the chains that bind me and set myself free?

Continue reading Apples to oranges

*If this resonates with you, please share on social media to help others in their journey!**

Gluttony and Starvation

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hillroad

Let’s just go back and unravel a few things that related to the last entry. Due to the response I got on it, it clearly hit home to many.

I named this gluttony and starvation because on so many levels that was my life – overindulging while starving myself simultaneously. Seems a bit insane, right? If I wasn’t drowning myself in booze and partying I was starving myself from food, if I was overeating I was withdrawing from my social life (damn scale and jeans that keep shrinking ;). It seemed there really wasn’t a time I wasn’t doing one and/or the other, and certainly no balance between the 2!

I’m willing to bet there are few that can’t apply this to their life as well . Whether it’s short or long term, we’ve all been in those shitty funks! It’s those plumets rock bottom that get devoured by the guilt and shame. The thoughts and feelings of being so abnormal because you can’t be the person you once were. Then the expectation related to those thoughts and feelings, both by yourself and others around you. On a totally unconscious level we bury them as deep as we can, whether it be booze, nose candy, smoking, sex, working out or food.  Then there’s the other end of the spectrum, starving and depriving ourselves, from food, healthy relationships, fun, from a job we might actually like or are passionate about. It wasn’t just physical either,  to say I was emotionally unbalanced was an understatement! But, then again, emotions are triggered by mental thoughts. If I wasn’t overly judgemental I was excessively sad or angry. If I wasn’t sad I was on a high that followed a terrible crash.

I always thought that I didn’t deserve it, that I was less then it, that until I could change my demeanor, weight, looks or attitude, I didn’t deserve all, or any goodness in my life. “It” is referring to whatever it was outside of me that I wanted.

I always justified how I didn’t deserve it or wasn’t good enough for ‘it’ or ‘them’. And, there were plenty of things outside of me that reiterated that as well. I mean has anyone looked at a magazine cover – and then tried to look in the mirror?! Pffff, kudos to all of you who can accept every single aspect of yourself! I mean, really – KUDOS! (Please tell me your secret!) Can you can love every piece of the extra 10 pounds you carry? The cellulite, the wrinkles, the stretch marks? Can you appreciate yourself inside out, good with the bad and your journey – without having a laundering list of things you had to sacrifice to get it? I couldn’t and it’s still a HUGE daily struggle for me!

I was always in competition when in it came to relationships too, whether it be with the bottle or other women, fearful of which would ‘win’ next. So after awhile I subconsciously began to like that game because it’s what I knew. So again, I starved myself from freedom, from relationships where I didn’t have to feel I needed to compete or fight or be controlled and over indulged in what I had become to know. I stayed on account of obligation, whether it be a social event we had coming up, or a trip or the way others guilted me into it, I always stayed far longer then I should’ve. And when a decent relationship actually did surface, I had no idea what to do with it! I didn’t know how to get along, how to not feel insecure, how not to be jealous or untrusting. It was a foreign language to me.

On a gut level, I always knew what was right. Always. There are few times I can’t recall exactly having those thoughts and feelings and talking myself right back into the vicious cycle! I’ve always had killer intuition, but not necessarily one that I’ve acted upon. Instead, I hated myself more! I hated myself for that slice of pizza, that piece of cake, one drink that followed the next. Then there’s the guilt that follows the choice that follows the result. The number on the scale because I ate it, the hangover because I drank it, the embarrasement because I said or did it, the guilt for not allowing the good to stay in my life. Just keep it coming! But hey, misery needs company too, right?!
And just like with all lies in life, I really started to believe all of it, down to the core.

So, for all of you that can relate to at least some aspect of this – you aren’t alone – not even a little bit. And I’m far from beyond it! I’m still learning how to work through it, how to remove myself from the places, people and things I don’t like about my life that I feel are adding to my already heavy baggage. And it isn’t all outside of me, alot of it is taking control of my own thoughts, acknowledging these things have been brewing and trying to peel away what seems like an unending amount of layers!

For all who contacted me on the last entry, thank you. It’s helpful to have feedback, and as happy as I was for it, I’m sorry so many can relate to these valleys. But, I guess talking and being open is the first step to awareness, and to healing. Funny how clearing the white elephant in the room makes that baggage seem alot lighter, eh?! 🙂

Continue reading Rear view mirror

*If this resonates with you please share on social media to help others in their journey!**

4th stage, 4th letter – D.

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It’s funny that the mental picture many get in their heads when hearing ‘psychiatric or mental issues’ is a padded room. Because I swore I was standing in one for years, there were days that room sounded far better then being in my own head.

This stage was, and to some degree still is, a huge part of my life. It’s the forbidden word, the one that we as society tries to avoid at all costs. Who can blame them, the highlight reels of the outside world are far more exciting then a topic such as this! 

So, depression, mental illness, psychiatric issues, a nut job, a lunatic – I don’t care what you want to refer to it as – it’s real. And it’s real in alot of other ways then that padded room. 

Josie was diagnosed at the age of 11. My parents never hid the fact that this was a concern. Not only was she treated by medication, but my parents made sure she had also had a therapist to talk through things. Depression is a word that I was very aware of growing up, but nothing I could personally relate too. It honestly never made sense to me. My mentality on the whole subject was ‘pick yourself up by your bootstraps, get over it and just be happy already!’ Then one day, I found myself standing on the opposite side of a fence I never understood, nor cared to ever understand. Once I was there – I instantaneously understood the physical and mental heaviness that so heavily bogged her down, both physically and mentally.

I remember standing in the kitchen while Nathan told me ‘you’re here, but you aren’t here, we need you here mentally just as much as physically.’ I remember thinking, yeah, no shit, I wish that was an option, but it’s something I can’t conceptualize at this point. From a physical standpoint, I had gained 40 pounds within a year – food became my safe haven. Aside from that, getting out of bed was SO much work, and being active was no longer in my vocabulary. I didn’t want to have to see a soul, including myself. I’ve never known mascara stained cheeks to be a trend, and that’s all that would happen if and when I did leave the house. The few times we would go out, I would find myself just standing there looking around thinking, I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t deserve to laugh or have fun. I’d find myself watching others doing just that and think ‘I wish I could do that and it come so naturally again.” No matter how many times I tried, like really tried to laugh or be fully engaged in a conversation, I couldn’t be genuinely engaged, every part of my mental body was a million miles away. The laugh wasn’t genuine, the conversation was surface, probably for both parties, because I’m sure others were unsure of what to say or how to say it. The only thing I could think about was her, how my life would never be the same, how I hated the person I was before this, especially my selfish ways, and yet how I so badly, to some degree, wanted to remember and be my old self again. It was a time of total and complete darkness.

By May of 2008 after suicidal thoughts, that I really don’t think would’ve been that hard to follow through on – I was admitted into the Generose outpatient program. It was the only option I had next to inpatient treatment. I was taken off of work for 6 weeks in hopes of regaining some sanity. That’s when my adventure with medications started, which only added to the weight gain and excessive sleeping at first, but at least when I was awake, I was a little more coherent. I believe most medications are a temporary bridge, there is only so much they are going to do, but the root of the problem often lies far deeper then that. I was directed to a Godsend of a Psychologist, Don Williams, who drastically impacted and seriously saved my life. He gave me insight on everything from suicide, to depression to parenting, to coping, while reiterating I wasn’t as crazy as I felt! (Always a nice reassurance, even if he was lying 😉 I began to look forward to our sessions, even if they were nothing but chronic breakdowns to start. They were my weekly ‘pick me up’ to get me through the next week, it was like a small load would be lifted from me each time I left.  After awhile the intense crying became a little less, but the topic was still repetitive. I remember telling him over and over, ‘I don’t know why I think these terrible things! I hate it, I know it isn’t right and I just want it to stop! It’s MY head, MY thoughts – I should be able to control them, I’M in charge of them! And, as always, his feedback was perfect. He would ask, ‘can a cancer patient make their tumor stop growing?’ Of course I looked at him like WTF does this have to do with anything!? He said ‘that’s the problem with society, everyone thinks it’s that easy, you just flip a switch and you can magically think differently. But this is a disease, just like cancer or heart disease. It’s the same as looking at that cancer patient and saying ‘it’s your body, make the tumor stop!’ It doesn’t work that way. I remember being awed, just like that, things made more sense. Isn’t it funny what we believe on account of what’s drilled into us? I was feeling so guilty for not being able to better control my mindset, but I was sick. Funny how things are viewed so differently isn’t it?

Don was my sounding board for years, he walked me through, step by step how to just survive by putting one foot in front of the other. That’s all it was for a long time, pure survival mode. It was like going back to the basics of teaching a child to eat, sleep and bathe on their own. I had to learn how important it was to shower and take 10 minute walks to try and clear my head, time to decompress, but not too much! I needed to start putting things back on my calendar, even if they didn’t sound the least bit enjoyable. Start wearing makeup and doing something with my hair before work. Things that used to come so easy to me, I was now having to be told to do. They worked – for awhile. But then I’d cycle back around again, needing another medication or dosage change. Fuck, when was I ever going to be normal again?! Better yet, was I even normal before? Did I even like the “me” before all of this? I had done such a good job hating that person, but I equally this one as well. Why can’t I just laugh, why is having fun so hard? Why can’t I be excited about things again? Why can’t I enjoy everything I have? Ready, set, walk…one .foot.in.front.of.the.other. They say slow and steady wins the race, and slow it was!

Continue reading Gluttony and Starvation

**If this resonates with you, please share on social media to help others in their journey!**