Connecting the Dots

Lamb Colloage Final

If I told you that every experience is molding you for something bigger, something more, would you believe me? As you age, you have the luxury of looking back over your experiences, the old adage about “hindsight”. You can connect the dots backward and see how one thing flows into another. You can see the interconnection of all things as time unravels the answers to the questions you thought you’d never get. Kevin Lamb’s story so beautifully illustrates how life’s experiences really do happen for a reason. The things God puts in front of us, are molding us for something bigger, oftentimes, to connect with others.

Getting started, tell us about your parents.

I came from parents that stood at opposite ends of the spectrum. My father, a doctor, was an introvert, and workaholic, with an intense passion for medicine and money. My mother came from a strong family background, the product of a farming family where everyone contributed in some way to the family.  After they divorced, my mother was working several jobs to provide for her family. She never let us see the difficulty in providing for her boys (myself and my two brothers), as we always had everything we needed and wanted. I learned how to sacrifice and really work from her example, how to survive and overcome difficult situations when the world seems stacked against you.

The divorce was hard on all of us.  My brothers and I moved to Minnesota from Colorado so we could have some male role models in my mom’s brothers.  I was eleven years old, and left my grade school friends in the middle of the school year. I was uncomfortable in the new community, like an outsider with kids who had all grown up together.  And I wasn’t sure what to think of my parents divorce, but I knew things would never be the same. At the time it was hard to see that my parents just loved us, and they were doing their best for us. As a kid, it’s hard to realize the importance and value of having a relationship with your parents. 

Over the years my relationship with each of my parents has grown, but it’s taken time, patience and understanding. My mom sacrificed so much for her family, first for my dad while he finished medical school and residency, then for us as she tried to be both mom and dad for her boys. After my brothers and I grew up and left home, she struggled with depression and alcoholism. Your kids give you such a sense of purpose, especially as a single parent. Her role as a mother was such an ingrained part of who she was that she struggled to find purpose outside of that identity. Between depression and alcohol, it’s been a really tough road…for everyone. And both are the reality for many households and families. It impacts everyone, and in different ways. She has worked relentlessly trying to get and stay sober, while also managing her depression, but the disease of alcoholism is strong, causing her to stumble at times in her recovery. This has impacted not only my siblings and me, but also our children. However, the admirable part is how she gets back up and tries again, fighting for her life and her relationships with her kids and grand kids. She is the strongest person I know.

What was your biggest struggle growing up?

 Although it may be hard for many to believe now, socialization and finding myself outside of being an athlete were my biggest struggles. It took me a long time to come out of my shell and to take social risks, to have fun without worrying that others were judging me.  With the divorce and move to a new state, I just really wasn’t sure of who I was outside the realm of athletic competition. I was shy and quiet, trying only to blend in when I wasn’t competing – totally different for who I am as a teacher and coach.

What is the greatest contrast from your upbringing to the way you parent your kids?

My biggest challenge is not constantly pushing my kids to be better and just accept them for doing their best. My frustration tends to come out in anger, and it’s hard to not take things personally. I have to take a step back and separate myself. To truly love our kids unconditionally can be one of our greatest challenges – to just accept them completely as they are, with all of their flaws, without trying to make them better all the time. 

When I was growing up, there was always room for improvement and there was always feedback to go along with it. To just accept that our kids are doing their best too, and they’ll figure it out in their own time, is something we all need to remind ourselves.

I try really hard to be emotionally, mentally and physically present for my kids. My mom had to work so hard to make ends meet, and my dad was really not a part of our lives. But, that’s driven me to do it differently, to be aware and present to what is going on as much as I can, both with my kids, as well as for other kids.

My wife, Stephanie, is my grounding element in everything I do, including co-parenting. She is the stability and consistency that not only I need, but our family and household needs. She loves me unconditionally, and that in and of itself ripples to our sons. I didn’t grow up in a home with parents who demonstrated that, and I am so grateful that we are able to give that to our boys, to show them what a functioning, solid and stable relationship looks like. 

Why did you choose the profession of being an English teacher? 

I was fortunate enough to not only be naturally gifted at sports but academics as well. I was able to float through with good grades without having to put in much effort, which later came to haunt me during my college years. It wasn’t until college that I was able to expand and grow, but with growth came the pain of learning how to put the work in academically. This was also my first introduction to getting to know myself outside of sports. My roommates were extremely smart, and it helped me to increase my effort and performance in my studies. I had to learn how to study and do my daily work, something I wasn’t accustomed to in high school. English came easy to me, and it’s something that everyone needs in their daily lives. They need to be able to effectively communicate, comprehend and read, and I knew that I could break this down into something that students may find easier to understand.

What is your biggest failure, that was also your greatest teacher?

Motivating through fear is rarely helpful, and focusing on the growth more than pointing out failures is much more effective. This can be hard to do in the day to day routines, but it’s easy to see how detrimental it is to a person either thriving or struggling. We can all be more supportive of each other. Encouragement and positivity go so far, and make constructive criticism so much easier to hear.

What is the lesson that took you the longest to learn?

True, faithful acceptance of God and myself. To truly believe that who I am is good enough for God, my wife, children, students, and community. Even though some have seen me at my worst, I am still worthy of the goodness and blessings in my life, despite my shortcomings. I am continually working towards acceptance of self, and recognizing we all have our good and bad days.  We don’t have to be at our best all the time in order to give our best effort. 

The other thing that has become more prevalent in the past couple of years is how to let go and grieve. I have found my purpose (aside from my family), through my students and athletes. Both my wife, Stephanie and I say that our strength comes from serving others. But with that has come the realization that I’ve deflected some of my own grief. I’ve come to understand the importance of putting on your own oxygen mask first, before supporting others. If you can’t breathe, you’re not being truly helpful to those you’re trying to support. I’m trying to be better about allowing myself that space and opportunity to feel the necessary emotions I need to as well, so that I can heal and perform at a high level.

Can you think of a time you were untrue to yourself?

A lot of adolescence is figuring out what being true to yourself means and what isn’t. You’re growing and finding yourself, influenced by others and not always sure how to think or act in a way that you know you should. I remember specifically treating a high school girlfriend really poorly. I was manipulative and downright mean to her. I didn’t like myself or the way I was acting when I was with her and realized that wasn’t who I wanted to be. 

What were major crossroads in your life?

I was in college, still an athlete, but coming to the realization that this wasn’t going to be the rest of my life. That is a tough bridge many athletes cross at some point. I had spent a lot of years on a field or wrestling mat, pushing myself to improve with a sense of tunnel-vision, only to realize it was only one portion of my life. It was time to take those lessons and apply them to the rest of my life. 

During this transition I felt such a loss of identity, it felt overwhelming and disheartening to think of myself outside of identifying as an athlete. When I realized I wanted to become a teacher and really have an opportunity to help kids, the adult me became more important than ball or being the athlete. I had a renewed sense of purpose. It was a big transitional period and one that led me down this path.

Have you struggled with mental illness?

I’m genetically predisposed to mental illness and personally struggle with depression. Looking back, I would say a vivid memory was my second year of college. I was coaching 9th-grade football and one of the students committed suicide, shortly after, my grandpa passed and my oldest brother moved out of state. I don’t think I got off the couch for at least 2 weeks. But it wasn’t until about a year ago that I got on medication for depression. Things didn’t get better after a time, and they weren’t “bad” for any particular reason. Things just started becoming increasingly grey and gloomy for an extended period. I couldn’t find happiness in things that I used to love, such as my family, hunting, fishing, or sports. 

Since being on medication, my overall outlook has improved. Little things don’t affect me as much, and I have more control over my emotions. I wake up almost every day with a positive outlook on what I will do and the impact I can make on the people around me. I am less irritable and much easier to be around (I hope), less demanding and more accepting of performance below my expectations. I still push my athletes and students to improve and hold them to high standards for performance, but it isn’t as big of an obstacle when I feel people are not reaching their potential. 

Why did you choose to be a coach?

Aside from the fact that I’ve always been a huge competitor, both coaches and teachers were instrumental father figures that served as primary role models for me. My mother’s family was great at letting us come along to hunt and fish, but I didn’t feel the same connection as when I was on the field or with teammates. I felt most comfortable and secure, connected and present being an athlete, because this was my family, outside of my relatives. 

My primary focus with coaching has been to create a safe environment where boys can be open, honest and vulnerable with each other. My overall goal in this position is an intentional, positive impact. It’s more than just football, a win or a loss, and it’s more than learning about yourself or how to improve, it’s learning about life as a whole. Whether learned in practice or in a game, the lessons on the field can be applied to life as well. I want them to see that and connect the dots so they can apply it down the road. 

We started this season with a short losing streak, and we have had our share of struggles the past few seasons: players out with injuries, and various struggles as a team.  It’s hard not to get stuck in that rut, myself included. I kept thinking if we could just get a win for a little boost in morale, it would really help! But we have to remember there’s always a lesson. There’s a large majority of outside circumstances in our lives, that we can’t control. You will give it your best, and sometimes, you’ll still come up short. Our job is to figure out how to be better, not bitter.  Growth doesn’t happen in times of comfort, and each obstacle can be seen as an opportunity to learn, improve, grow. As difficult as it is sometimes, it is important to see problems in a positive light because they ultimately help us more than success does in the long run.

The true test of character is when you’re in a slump. In life, you’re not always going to get the job, the girl/guy, the house or the raise. You will lose people close to you, you will have bad things happen, but you have to keep moving forward and learn from the last interview, relationship or financial struggle. What could have been done differently? What is there to be learned? And when you’re out of the slump, it becomes clear what was needed or why you needed it at that time, and how it helped you grow.

**We can all learn from others’ stories! Feel free to share if this resonates with you!**

**If you’re interested in scheduling a complimentary call with Amanda about Life Coaching sessions, visit www.crisisaverted.org **

Just Today

Brighton Collage 4-2019

My mom had me at the age of 50, she thought she was going through menopause and went to the doctor, only to find out she was pregnant…with number 6 of the bunch. She cried the whole way home, and then I came along!

Welcome to the life of Bryan Brighton, a PEM High School English teacher, husband, and father of 3. Little did I know in the 10th grade, that this man, would be one of the primary reasons behind my love to write. It was not hard to enjoy his class and his enthusiasm for it. From jumping on desks to explain that there is in fact, no difference between 1 exclamation mark and 5 (who knew?), to reading “To Kill a Mockingbird”, there was a comedic seriousness when entering his room. A second descendant from England immigrants, and a man with great stories and insight, I hope you enjoy!

What was your biggest struggle in High School?

My dad passed away at the age of 59 from a heart attack. I was 13 years old. After that, I had this overwhelming fear of abandonment. I never wanted to be left behind or miss out. If my friends were meeting at 7 pm, I would show up at 6:30 just to make sure they didn’t leave without me. And it wasn’t just with particular people, it was with anyone. Being left behind wasn’t an option.

What has been the biggest life changing event for you? In what ways has it changed the way you live your life?

Going to the doctor at my lowest point, forever changed my life, as well as the ways in which I was thinking and living. After my mom passed, my depression intensified. Alot. Walking into that office came with it this instantaneous moment of release and relief. I just sat and cried, and talked. It literally saved my life. By making this decision, it opened up an entire new conversation surrounding mental health about our family history that I was unaware of.

It was amazing what surfaced once the dialogue began. I reached out to my siblings and just told them what was going on, and suggested that if they had any of these symptoms, they were worth getting checked out. Through talking, we realized there were similarities amongst us that we’ve shared and it’s also created dialogue with our children.

Another life changer, was after getting a medication change. I had maxed out on my current med, and needed to up my dose, which consisted of bringing in another medication, Wellbutrin. This was the first time in my life that the thought process of ‘if I don’t wake up tomorrow, it will be ok’, stopped. For as long as I can remember, I had this thought process daily. When at my lowest, it worsened. Even while on Celexa, I would still have these thoughts. I didn’t even realize how content I was thinking this, or that it wasn’t normal to think.

What was depression for you?

You’ll hear people say ‘those were the dark years’, but you never really understand what they mean. Until you look back at old pictures and see yourself, as if there’s this invisible weight you were carrying, and you think, oh, yep, now I get it. Those were my ‘dark years.’

Depression for me, was total and complete exhaustion, while also not sleeping at night. I’ve always struggled with not sleeping, another thing I just thought was normal. When overly tired, depression rages on my internal monologue. It will ramp up and escalate quickly. What may begin as ‘don’t forget to buy bread’, can quickly become repetitive, followed by screaming in my head, drowning out other thoughts.

My career was always the divider though. Whether in the Marines or teaching, when I entered that zone of structure, I was in my element. I knew what was coming, how to perform and was still able to be my goofy self. No one in that environment would have guessed I was struggling. But once I hit my front door, the only thing I wanted was my bed. It is exhausting to be so exhausted. My family didn’t get the best of me, instead, they got too tired, cranky me, and that wasn’t fair.

Depression for me, was flirting with the idea of yanking the steering wheel just enough to the left as a semi was approaching in oncoming traffic to end it all, more often than I care to admit.

What’s the biggest lie you’ve been told?

Before I got married, everyone always told me to enjoy being single while I could, because once you get married, it’s going to be hard work. Everyone said it takes so much to make the relationship work and stay together. I’ve been married for 25 years, and it’s the easiest thing I’ve done, and it’s been anything but work. Of course, there are things we don’t agree on, and we have to talk through it, but I don’t know that we’ve ever yelled at each other, or even hit a point of such intensity.

People will tell you ‘never quit, never give up’. And that is true in certain things. I do believe that if you start a season, project or make a commitment, you should finish it. But I also believe there are certain points in life, where you have to be okay with letting something, or someone, go.

The career tests are liars. They will tell you, if you take this test, we’ll be able to tell you what you’ll be when you grow up. I was supposed to be a Forest Ranger. So…yeah….gotta go with a lie on that one.

What comes to mind when you think about the most difficult choice, or thing you’ve had to do in your life?

Hanging in there when the only reason not to is disappointing others. Prior to getting help there were so many deep holes and so many easy ways out. You’re so tired …. all the time and just getting up every morning is like …ugghhhh. When you have little kids, a spouse, Moms and all these people that you couldn’t bear the thought of putting through the sadness, the questions, the years and lifetimes of wondering ‘what if you just keep on keeping on’? You always remember, I just have to do it today.

Feel free to share, if this story resonates with you!

Despite where we’re at in life, we can all use additional support. Let’s connect! For a complimentary phone call, visit http://www.crisisaverted.org to schedule!

Inside Out – E.D. with Mallory

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 “Why can’t you just eat?” “Why don’t you quit eating?” “Why would anyone want to vomit after every meal? Gross!” “Why can’t you control the thoughts in your head?” “Why can’t you just be happy?” “Why can’t you just calm down?” “Did you see how much weight she’s gained – Ew!” “Put some meat on those bones” “If you were hotter – I’d date you” “God I’m so huge” “I hate my body” “I wish I looked like her” “Why did I have to get my mom’s hips?” “Is it so much to ask to be Beyonce?”

Welcome to the 21st century – where a majority of today’s focus rests on physical appearance. Too fat, too skinny, thighs are too big, ass could be bigger, take some from the gut, put it in the breasts, oh and the extra could be nicely added to the lips, I mean we hate to waste any, God only knows there’s plenty to spare! Welcome to the thought process of a majority of today’s population! If we don’t say them, I can guarantee we think them far more then anyone cares to admit! Whether about others or ourselves, the fact that this much thought goes into one aspect of the millions of things that make up a person – is a problem.

These are the ugly little seeds that are constantly being planted in not only our heads, but our kids’ heads on a daily basis. We stand in a check out line at the grocery store to thumb through the latest magazine with the latest named sexy actress, they watch commercials with half naked men and women, they hear adults talk about how much weight they’ve gained or how they shouldn’t be eating anymore, we hear men laugh and joke about sexist remarks or the ass on the waitress, or the lyrics to songs that reinforce what a “10” should look like.  Adults and children alike are constantly being reminded of the importance we’ve placed on body image – what seems harmless is often more harmful then we believe. We are setting precedence of what is the “norm”, leaving people to think that the only way to ‘fit in’, to be accepted or to be worthy of love – is to mirror these size 2 women, or ripped men. The fact is, that constant conversation, in any manner, around body image, good or bad – is the overall problem. You add these subconscious thoughts to a child who already struggles with things such as depression, anxiety, bi-polar, OCD or just plain fitting in, and you’ve set them up for a psychological disaster that could easily put them into place where control is no longer theirs.

This is a 2 part series on eating disorders, this entry showing what the inside looking out looked like from Mallory’s viewpoint. Angie will tell us what it was like from the outside looking in, watching her daughter endure, and eventually losing her life from Anorexia. This is another issue few care to familiarize themselves with because we often feel it’s nothing we need to worry about with our children. However, I think you, like I was, may be more surprised then you think about the stigma, signs and symptoms that can be associated with these diseases.

My name is Mallory Schad and I am in recovery from an eating disorder. My hope in sharing my story is that I can help shatter the stigma wrapped around mental illnesses. Yes, eating disorders are a mental illness, it’s not something you choose. I believe I was born with this disease. I believe I will always battle this disease, but most of all, I believe I can conquer this disease. Here is my story.

What was your “official diagnosis” and what does that mean via text book – more importantly – what did that mean to you? Has this been something that has always plagued you?

For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with body image. I was a “tomboy” growing up. I wasn’t your typical “girly girl” – I liked hanging with the boys, and dressing like one. My mom was supportive of my taste and always took me shopping in the boy’s department. She never tried to change me, nor told me I needed to look a certain way. So, for the most part, I dressed like a boy. That’s what I liked. Often times in public, I was mistaken as a boy. I felt ashamed of what I looked like, due to others’ reactions and perceptions of me. It was confusing. I was just being me. What is wrong with being me?

It was 7th grade where I finally gained some freedom from outside remarks regarding my gender. I was becoming more interested in make-up and grew my hair long. Funny how people stop ridiculing when you seem to appear “normal” or fit a mold that makes them comfortable. Aside from the harassment I endured from outsiders concerning my gender, there was another factor that I believe played a role in my developing disorder. As a 7th grader, I was a young athlete participating in sports at a higher level. Because of this, I became close with peers and fellow athletes that were older then me on a daily basis. I looked up to them and I felt like they had taken this shy little 7th grader under their wings. I was thankful for them. Exposure goes with the territory of hanging with students older than you. The topics I discussed with my friends in school, were very different from those that I overheard after school during practice. Topics discussed were natural for young girls their age, but for a 12 year old, it was very eye-opening. These girls were going through puberty and experiencing their bodies changing and developing. Naturally, I then became aware of my own body. I remember hearing others talk negatively about the size of their bodies. Comments were made about “being fat” or “having big legs”, etc. I remember a teammate crying at Cross Country practice, telling the coach she “had more weight to carry”, therefore had a harder time keeping up. I knew the weight had nothing to do with her performance. She was not overweight.

I stepped on the scale as a 12 year old and glared at the number I saw staring back at me – 89 pounds. You can’t let yourself get above 89 pounds. I remember feeling scared for having that thought go through my mind. I didn’t know where it came from, so I brushed it aside. I started becoming more aware of my changing body. I was gaining muscle as an athlete and noticed my thighs getting bigger. They touched when I walked. How come the other girl’s thighs don’t touch when they walk? How come my thighs are so HUGE??? “I HATE my thighs”. Fast forward to 9th grade. It was the beginning of Cross Country season. Apparently, I had grown over the summer people felt it was necessary to comment on other people’s bodies, as if it was worthy of discussion. I’ll never forget having 3 people in one day comment on my weight gain. “You look bigger out there running – Strong! Other people had noticed it too. That one stuck with me. I didn’t hear the “strong”, I heard the “bigger”. I went home after practice and paced in the garage. I was filled with rage. “Why was my body anybody else’s concern? I was pissed. I only wished I stayed pissed and didn’t turn that rage inward on myself.

I remained aware of my body through high school. As I entered 11th grade I started developing some disorder behaviors. I purged for the first time when I was 15. It wasn’t then that I fully engaged in this disordered behavior, but I definitely played around with it. During college, I experienced the inevitable “freshman 15”. I was 23 when I started binging and purging. This cycle went on for about 5 months, I’d lose weight and people would notice. They commented. I continued in my cycle of destruction. I saw a psychiatrist because I knew my behavior was unhealthy, but inevitably stopped going. I didn’t think I needed the help. I somewhat snapped out of that cycle of destruction for the time being, only for it to return.

When at your lowest, what did your mental, physical and emotional state consist of? If you could give us a briefing on what went on in your world on an average day, as well inside your head – what would that look like for you.

At the age of 24 I moved to Bemidji, MN for a change of pace. This became the best and worst time of my life simultaneously. In the fall of 2012 I decided I needed to step up my game to get in shape for my cousin’s upcoming destination wedding that February. What started as going to the gym, quickly became being obsessed with the numbers on the exercise machines. Every day I worked out – having to run longer, while increasing resistance and burning more calories. Something HAD to be more intense than the day before.

I was diagnosed with Orthorexia. For those of you wondering, the ‘text book’ version of Orthorexia is an “unhealthy obsession” with otherwise healthy eating, a term which literally means “fixation on righteous eating.”Along with this came the same mindset around food. Everything had to be strictly “the best”. When the various work out regimens weren’t enough, I decided I wanted to get back into running. I ran every day. It was my outlet, or so I thought. Every time I ran, I had to beat the pace from the day before, always having to push myself harder. This sort of mind set is what sent me into a downward spiral. It was “all or nothing” for me. There was no grey. Black and white thinking was my new norm. 

At my lowest weight, I was not living a life for myself anymore. I was living for the disease. There was zero space in my mind for anything other than disordered thoughts. I was consumed. My dietary intake became very rigid. I developed numerous food rules which included constant restrictions, followed by punishing behaviors. Anything else I ate outside of my obsessively strict and rigid guidelines, was done because I was in the company of others, because I felt I needed to hide my odd eating habits. This was my “FIT IS THE NEW SKINNY”. This was my “I’M GETTING HEALTHY” bullshit the media feeds you to believe. But nope, this was something else. This was the diet industries damaging message it sends to the public. Eat this, not that. Do this, to look like this. Looking like this, will make you happy. Wanting to look a certain way, became an unattainable nightmare.

 I was also diagnosed with body dysmorphia. Perhaps for some people they can work out and maintain a rigid diet and truly be healthy and happy. For someone fighting a mental illness, it became insanity.

I became so obsessed with counting calories that I started purging to restrict my caloric intake. I would eat small portions of food, believing them to be large, and then purge afterward. Often times after eating, I would feel such intense guilt and anxiety. Purging became my escape from the anxiety. Sometimes during the day I would go in a cycle of eating and purging for hours. I slept a lot to keep my mind from thinking about food. I wanted to eat all this delicious food that everyone else was having around me, but I couldn’t allow it. It was simply off limits. 

I also developed behaviors called “body checking”. I would measure my wrists and certain parts of my body. I would put certain articles of clothing on to make sure they were still lose, or that they were becoming more lose. I would look for protruding bones in my body, running my hands over them obsessively to make sure I could still feel them. I would take “progress pictures” and compare what I looked like previously to past pictures. I was so fixated on gaining muscle. I couldn’t pass a mirror without looking in it. But the thing was, my mind was playing tricks on me. Of course those bones aren’t protruding anymore and the pants are growing tighter and you look huge in those pictures.” Back to the gym, and you better go to bed hungry”.  The anxiety around that was paralyzing. This cycle was on repeat and this was what day in and day out consisted of for 2 years.

In the end, I did lose the weight. I did gain muscle. Physically, on the outside, I looked “fit”. I received compliments regarding my appearance, which only fueled the fire inside to keep the cycle going. What I wasn’t noticing at the time, was that it was never enough. I could lift a certain amount of weight, run a certain distance at a certain pace, but nothing was ever good enough. There was always room for improvement. This was my high, but also my imprisonment, my punishment. I often times got down on myself for not being a better student in college and partying too much in my early 20’s. I felt like I was turning my life around by achieving this “healthy lifestyle” and that I was making better choices for myself.  I wasn’t healthy though. I was exhausted all the time. My memory was shot. I would blackout often, felt weak and suffered with chest pain due to tears in my esophagus from purging.

Mentally, I felt at complete war with myself. I was not living my life at all. I was living for the disease. I was on a high from “controlling” my dietary intake and working out, but at the same time was severely depressed and didn’t know it.  

What were the general feelings that arose around food in general?

Immense fear. My underlying anxiety just overflowed to food, instead of having anxiety without consumption, I had it with the consumption. If I was consuming something I deemed “safe” I felt empowered. If I was out to eat, or eating something with family or friends that was not my choosing, I felt immense fear and anxiety. I wondered how it was prepared, and what ingredients were involved, which led to panic. I was not shy about sneaking off to purge the food either.

There was also sadness and guilt. I knew what I was doing was unhealthy, but I couldn’t stop because it made me feel so good. When I was eating inside my comfort zone it felt like a high. Everything was a judgement on myself, I obtained self-satisfaction by controlling my urges to eat what was doomed to be “bad for me”.

Grocery shopping took hours. Food was strange for me. Think of it as a drug that you only need a bit of. How do you start or stop when you feel so out of touch with the reality of it? When it controls you?  How do you develop a healthy relationship with it? Food is sort of like drugs in a sense, but also very different – because you need it to survive.

At what point were you aware this had become something beyond your control that needed professional help?

After being told by a doctor I was clinically malnourished, I started seeing a counselor, but she didn’t specialize in in eating disorders. In fact, noone in my area did! In all honesty I figured since I was there, I’d just get some good life counseling and tips to get myself back on track with school since it had taken the back burner to my rigid exercise routine. Besides, I never said I had an eating disorder, I just had “tendencies”.

After about a month, the counselor asked me if I’d consider inpatient. I thought she was crazy – no way! Eventually, she said she couldn’t help me, as she didn’t want to see me walk through the door again continually wasting away.  She quoted me previously saying “I’d give anything to have a healthy relationship with food” and made the analogy that – walking into a grocery store is like shopping for drugs for someone with a drug addiction. It’s insane. She told me it was time to seriously think about treatment. And I did. I called the Emily Program in the Twin Cities on a Friday and was admitted the following Monday.

                    How many times did you attempt help and was it actually helpful?                           If so, what parts did you feel were most detrimental in your journey to healing?

I attempted to seek help a few times, but was never committed. I would lie to counselors and tell them I was better. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t get help until I was completely submersed in my disease.  Eating disorders are really good at telling you that you don’t need help, or that you’re “not sick enough”. Master manipulators they are. It’s tough, because there is so much emphasis surrounding healthy eating and exercise, that it can be hard to tell when you have crossed the line into unhealthy habits.

How long have you been “free” so-to-speak from this disease and who are you since this journey as you continue to heal?

The decision to choose treatment over the comfort of the disorder was the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make. I knew my world would be flipped upside down. I knew it would be hard. I did 4 months of intensive outpatient. 4 days a week I would spend the day at the Emily Program. Re-feeding, dietary classes, group therapy, individual therapy and yoga. I’m not going to lie, the process was painful, but also very liberating learning to disconnect and free myself from it.

My mental state was at an all-time low. I struggled with suicidal ideation, major depressive disorder and anxiety. My body was in immense pain for a few months from the changes it was enduring. Week by week though, I learned about the disease and how to cope. I had no choice but to choose recovery after having my eyes opened to the dangerous lifestyle I had been living.

I’d say it was about 3 months after completing treatment that I became comfortable talking about the disease. I was still very uneasy and untrusting of my body right after treatment. It took some time to take the skills I had learned in treatment and put them to use on my own. I slowly became comfortable with the process and became more open to discussing it.

Today, I want to speak more freely and openly about the disease. I want people to be aware of it and to understand it. It’s so very misunderstood and there can be so many varying layers to it. I want people to know they are not alone, and most importantly that they are not abnormal for having the thoughts/behaviors they do. I want people to know there is help out there and that it’s possible to be freed from this deadly and agonizing disease.

Do you feel this still controls a large part of you, or something you’ve been able to slowly distance yourself from?

I have my good days, bad days, and everything in between. For the most part, my days are good, but there are days I still struggle with my current size and weight. There are times I wish I was smaller, or more fit. But then I remember what I felt like when I was those things. I wasn’t happy. I was sick. I was slowing wasting away in all aspects. Every day takes work. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t have to stop myself at some point and revert my thinking. It’s been 2.5 years since treatment.

I still struggle. I’m not where I used to be, but I know it’s going to take time. I’ve come a long way and I feel hopeful that it will only get better. It took a lot of work to get to where I am now.

What do you feel is the biggest driving force behind eating disorders? 

It can be very different for everyone, but often times I think it’s a fight for control mixed with societal beauty standards. But more times then not, eating disorders tend to mask other issues. I know for me, when I was in the depths of the disorder, it wasn’t beauty driven. It was about control, obsession and perfectionism. I had underlying issues that I needed to deal with and focusing on “getting healthy” felt like I was bettering myself.  I was masking.

I think the younger generations are very susceptible to developing eating disorders. There is a lot of pressure to fit in and look a certain way. I also believe that eating disorders do not discriminate. Any person at any age can fall victim to the disease.

How has this changed the course of your life? Is this a topic of conversation you feel deserves more time and light?

I’m not really sure how it’s changed the course of my life. I want to reach out to others and make myself available. My goal is to be a mentor to those struggling and to spread awareness and education. I want to help others along their path as I continue to learn, grow and heal myself.

Eating disorders take more lives than any other mental illness. That’s a staggering statistic, so yes, this disease absolutely deserves more time and light.

If you could speak to this age group- or any girls/women/men either at that turning point in their life-or already suffering, trying to hold on- what would you say?

I would tell them there is more to life than what they are desperately holding on to. That I know how terrifying it is to let go of the comfort the eating disorder provides, but that nothing compares to the freedom that treatment and recovery provide.

Help is out there. Trust in others. Trust in the process. Find a support system and reach out to people. Treatment and recovery is a real ugly bitch. It rips you wide open. You have to take a good look at yourself and question what you want for yourself in this life. I’d tell them it’s tough, but it’s so worth it. Most of all, it might not be your hardest battle in life. Choosing to fight preps you for the rest of whatever life throws at you. You learn about yourself, and you learn how to truly enjoy life.

I would tell them that we are all individuals and that we all have struggles. To look within and figure out what it is that is causing pain – really dig into it. Often times, eating disorders are masking a bigger problem.

*If you or anyone you know may struggle with a possible eating disorder, please know there is resources and help! Please contact any of the following

NEDA (National Eating Disorders Association) https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-help-support

The Emily Program at https://www.emilyprogram.com/locations/minnesota

Foundations such as these are vital in our communities to help others struggling with Eating Disorders. Just as we help fund many other research facilities, these programs are equally important and often don’t the attention they deserve, due to lack of awareness. Please consider donating to The Emily Program Foundation at https://app.etapestry.com/onlineforms/TheEmilyProgramFoundation/donate.html

**Please share this important story and topic on social media, for you never know who could benefit!**

Santa Monica

Santa Monica Blog entry Nov 16.jpg

“Her mind’s made up
The girl is gone
And now I’m forced to see
I think I’m on my way
Oh, it hurts to live today
Oh and she says “Don’t you wish you were dead like me?”

And I remember the day when you left for Santa Monica
You left me to remain with all your excuses for everything
And I remember the time when you left for Santa Monica
And I remember the day you told me it’s over”

This was the last song I listened too exactly 9 years to the day with you. Although those lyrics mean something different since then, the feeling that arises when hearing them is still there. I had just put Gabby – 2 1/2 and sick at the time – to bed, waiting for Nathan to get home, you and I were chatting about wedding stuff. I had mentioned perhaps  meeting with Sarah to do wedding invites, I knew you wanted to do them, but she’s great at this stuff and thought maybe you could learn some things from her?! I remember feeling half guilty, half defensive by the look on your face that said “of course I wouldn’t do it good enough or the way you wanted”. It was that look, followed by a weak “sure”. I remember talking about all of these wedding things as you half ignored me, never looking at me – always facing the computer. I often wonder how you didn’t turn around and tell me to shut the fuck up – you didn’t care – because you weren’t going to there. I often wonder how you didn’t say many things to me – instead, always playing the part, keeping your mouth shut, trying to pretend to be happy for me – even though I knew you were pissed about the whole thing. Once I realized you were less then impressed with this choice of topic I said “oh Jos – you gotta listen to this song – you’re gonna love it – Santa Monica by Theory of a Deadman! I asked you what you thought and got a monotone “yeah – I like it.”

I’ve replayed in my head a million times us standing outside smoking – while freezing our asses off – we got laughing about I don’t  even know what. I vividly remember thinking – but never actually saying “you look so good, you’ve lost weight – you seem happy Jos!” Maybe I just wanted to enjoy that contagious laugh a little longer, so I didn’t say it – just like you didn’t say anything to me, so we carried on. When we came back in the house I told you I was sorry, you could finish what you needed too, but I needed to go to bed. I needed sleep – pffff – fuck – let’s be real – I always needed sleep! You acted bummed, with a brief hesitation – I took note of it, but was defensive and proceeded to bed. As I laid there – I remember feeling bad, but more so as if something seemed off – but too tired to bother inquiring. Instead, I heard you shut down the computer and walk across the kitchen floor for what would be the last time. I heard the door close and I fell asleep. And that was it. That was the last time I would see your face, the last time I would hear your laugh, the last time I would smoke a Marlboro with you, the last time I would have a discussion with you – it was the last of so many things that would taint me for so long.

For months and months afterwards, I would talk to you on my way into work as if you were in the passenger seat beside me. I would try and alter the reality of it – as crazy as that sounds – I just always felt like I needed those one-way conversations – that were far from conversations because I couldn’t quit crying long enough to actually finish a sentence. To this day whenever I feel you, I feel you on my right side – steady, solid, always quiet and always on my right.

At some point in all of our lives we have a massive shifting point, it shows up in many different ways, but it shakes us to the core. For those that don’t know what this feels like, you will in time, for it’s inevitable in the human experience. It isn’t a week long ordeal either – it’s a forever long ordeal. For as much as this blog has done for me, in regards to healing at a much more rapid rate on many levels – the replay of that night – the feelings that arise with that song – the longing to hear that laugh or see that smile will forever be imprinted when this week arises – year after year – despite the time in between.

How can something feel like yesterday and eternity all at once? There are times I feel as though I’ve lost the details as time has passed. There are parts of me that are thankful for that, for it doesn’t consume me like before – proving I’ve been able to let go and move forward, but there are also days – like today – when I wish I could remember every detail of your face, of your words, of your every breath. Here’s to 9 years – 9 down – plenty to go – but still looking forward to the day I see that face again.

OUT of the darkness, means bringing LIGHT to it.

blog-otd-walk-collageIf there’s one thing I hope this blog does for all who stumble across it is, to offer a sense of hope. To bring light to conversations, emotions, thoughts and struggles that so many of us face on a daily basis, but are often too fearful to bring up at the supper table. This is many people’s real life, whether it’s disease, finances, addiction, divorce, or death – these topics are too many people’s traumas and tragedies. While some have been able to triumph over these road blocks, there are still many stuck, unable to see outside of their current circumstances. These are conversations, that until we start having them – aren’t going to go away. Every change must first begin with awareness. I am hoping that this will shed some light and awareness on many different topics and emotions that I think more people will be able to resonate with, at some point in their life, then not. My hope is that this is the beginning of many more conversations to come within your life, ones with rawness, vulnerability, empathy and compassion. May this be the planting of new seeds of awareness, as well as hope in each persons life that comes across this, may you know you aren’t alone in your struggles and that the light always follows the darkness, so please – hold on.

I had the to opportunity to speak at our community walk this weekend, Out of the Darkness. This walk is to promote awareness and education, as well as support to the conversation of mental illness and suicide. This is something that no matter what – is just a heavy event, it’s really hard for it not to be, as these are heavy topics that come with heavy feelings and emotions surrounded by them. I really wanted this years talk to be different then I had done in years’ past, I wanted it to be general but specific, acknowledging all who were there and their stories, honoring whatever current stage they were in on their journey – but also bringing forth a lighter note  as well.

This is something that I want to include as an entry because for most of us standing at this event, we already knew all too well what standing on the other side of this hell feels like, carrying the guilt of not seeing the signs or being more proactive, the heart wrenching fact that they felt so isolated, empty and sad to be able to continue on is something we know all too well and it’s something that brings us to tears every time we think of what they endured and what it took for them to follow through. But the point isn’t just for those of us that now fit under the category of ‘suicide survivor’, it’s something that people need to be aware BEFORE they hit that point. It’s something that needs to be talked about MORE in homes around the supper table, no matter how uncomfortable that can be. The words “suicide” and “depression” need to be used more often, so that they roll off the tongue as easily as “pizza” and “sunshine”.

I’d like to share my story, to hopefully shine some light on this subject, as well as promote more light on such a dark and heavy subject. And I hope you’re willing to share this, to bring forth light to others as well – for you never who many stumble across it that may be in need of it.

” I, like most of you here, am a survivor of suicide after losing my sister Josie to a losing battle of clinical depression in 2007. It wasn’t until after that day that I was forced to feel the depths of the valleys in which she, and many others have walked. Through those years of darkness and fog I endured the sobering truth of what standing on this side of not only mental illness feels like, but what carrying the heaviest burden of all feels like – guilt.

We all stand here in different parts of our journey, ranging from months to years, with different stories. From veterans unable to co-exist in a world that had become foreign to them upon returning from the damage that couldn’t be undone, to those who had side effects to medications that forced them in the opposite direction of the intent of that medication, to an impulsive decision with what may have seemed like the only last piece to the puzzle, to just being sick and tired of attempting to fight what seemed like a losing battle through the darkness.

The details that go along with our loved one’s story, the aftermath for all of us standing here, is one we wouldn’t wish upon anyone. The reverberation that suicide generates, despite your stage in the grieving process, is all too familiar. To feel as if there were no other way out aside from this, to be so enveloped and suffocated in a deep and dark place is something that no individual should ever have to endure.

There isn’t a prerequisite needed in order to fall under this hush hush category, as we have seen that money nor fame can buy happiness or make you invisible from this crippling disease. From famous people such as Kurt Cobain and Robin Williams, to the ever growing numbers, especially in teens, due to the pressures of the world around them, to adults due to financial, work, home and relationship stressors and lack of facilities and treatment options. Simply being unable to talk about it in public, even in our own homes because we have made it taboo and an uncomfortable topic, and some just honestly not knowing how to respond. It almost always comes back to the feeling of being isolated and alone.

A large contributing factor for this being the third leading cause of death is the sheer lack of hope in so many. The feeling that others can’t relate, or that you’re the only one enduring these thought processes. We are in a time where electronics have silenced us even more, tearing us away from human connection and compassion. We have entered into an era where the world around us seems to get crazier by the day, full of noise and static, opinions, debate and fog – it can be hard to find that light of hope to focus on.

It took me a long time to see beyond those first years of darkness, to gain a different perspective, but I honestly believe that it is up to those of us that have endured the pain of losing someone to this terrible cause of death because we are needed to be the beacon of light through the darkness.

When we begin to break down these barriers of fear and hopelessness, allowing light to stream in through the concrete walls that have barricaded us from each other, we can begin to see that healing can be possible. Perhaps it is then that our loved ones stories can begin to affect and shift the masses in a new way, letting others know that this isn’t the end, that they are supported and loved and that we’re here to help, educate and facilitate. Perhaps it is then that we can help them see through a new lens, one that brightens instead of dims, educates instead of criticizes and one that comforts instead of torments. Although this event is held with heavy hearts as a reminder to those who have taken their own lives, I hope today can also be about remembering to carry on their story, that despite our age, from young to old alike, reminding ourselves that we all have the ability to reach out in ways big and small to help others, to bring awareness to a conversation that has been silenced for far too long and to bring light to others around us, in whatever manner possible. May today be about more than just a reminder of the guilt and sadness that many carry inside, but may it be about reigniting hope and a light into a world that needs it more now than ever. “

**If this resonates with you, please feel free to share on social media in the hopes of helping any who may stumble across it.”

Rock Bottom

Blog- rock bottom chrome

Have you ever been there – that dark and deserted place, where only one person resides? It’s as if it’s covered with mirrors and despite which direction you turn, the only one you see is yourself – because you’re the only lucky SOB that gets to occupy it. First name Rock, last name Bottom – turns out she’s one deep ass hole! It doesn’t matter how you snowballed your way there, whether by choice, mistake or an outside circumstance that pushed you, the point is – you’re there. Many people have occupied this space, sometimes you’re aware of it, sometimes you’re not. the odd thing for me was, I didn’t see anyone there while I was on my trip! Perhaps because I was lucky enough to hit it at Mock 90 and had crashed and burned without even realizing it.

It’s like the morning after a tequila bender, waking up foggy, wondering where you are and who’s laying next to you and fuzzy on the details as to how they got there. Pfff – don’t act like you’ve never been there 😉

 It’s as if I was standing there seeing stars – not even realizing I was actually there. As I look up, I see all the amazing people in my life rooting for me – some cheering, some praying, some blowing kisses, some giving pep talks – but all there, patiently waiting for me to find my way out. And as I look up I want so badly to be where they are – but it seemed as if it was thousands of miles out of reach. Although I saw the light that they were standing in, the darkness that surrounded me didn’t come close to that speck. It was so fucking black – and even more scary – wandering around, stumbling over every thing possible, just to have made an exact circle right back where I started.

I dabbled in multiple medications, from cholesterol meds to antidepressants, narcotics to amphetamines – some worked great while others propelled me into insanity even faster! I loved vodka (ok, fine… I still do)  but I loved it to the point of oblivion every single night I didn’t have my daughter. I smoked more cigarettes in my 15 years of smoking then most do in 30, if it were cocaine, I would’ve been out of control. Give me an escape and I’d get lost in it – bury myself in it. I can’t imagine, if piled up and set in front of me the amount of cigarette butts, booze and medication bottles that would surround me! They served me, and they served me well for quite awhile. They were as close as I was going to come to a “fix” while in survival mode. And despite the people on the sidelines still cheering for me, I couldn’t clear my mind to see outside of the current circumstance I was in. There was an emptiness, a hollow hole that rested inside of me while I tangoed in the depths of rock bottom – one that could only be filled with temporary forms of satisfaction – anything and everything that sat outside of myself. Grasping – always grasping – for the next night out, the next guy, the next set of meds, the next cigarette – hoping eventually one of them was going to fill the void – fix meeee! Whether I was in a relationship or not, trashed or sober, feening for my next drag or inhaling a nice long one of a Marlboro – it was still there, perhaps to a less degree because I was preoccupied, but it hadn’t left – and it wouldn’t leave until I faced it.

To be honest, I had no idea what in the hell I was supposed to be facing! Perhaps I needed to modify my mannerisms, learn to be less insecure, maybe if I quit drinking, met “Mr. Right”, (which let’s be real, he could’ve been standing next to me the entire time and I wouldn’t have known), quit smoking, exercised more, had a flatter stomach, more toned arms, learned to be softer and less rough around the edges, learned how to do more ‘right’ things and less ‘wrong’ things  – maybe then, I would inch away from the bottom. Well, turns out I tried them all – and to a degree, it did inch away from me – but there was still this “dead space” within me that all these things couldn’t fill.

How many medications does one need to numb the sadness, hate and emptiness? How many bottles or nights out? How many cigarettes? How many men? How much masking? How much faking? How much does it take before you stop to reevaluate – just to realize the only thing still standing between me and that mirror, is – well…… you! It was me – all along – the one I was running from, blaming and hating, using the temporary forms of satisfaction, swearing the next thing was going to ‘fix’ me, ‘fix’ him, ‘fix’ them, ‘fix’ that, ‘fix’ it – and here I was. Right where I had always been – standing in a room full of mirrors, screaming for help – just to realize the only one that was capable of it was me. That was a bitch of a realization, one that – to be honest – I had little to no interest in ever facing!

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The Aftermath

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In my head, the aftermath looked like a scene from a natural disaster. The people and place gets rocked by the chaos of the disaster, just to be left standing in the middle of what feels like a chaotic wilderness of nothing.

There are few things from that day and the days to follow that I can’t remember verbatim. From the time I got the email as I was shutting down my computer at work asking ‘have you heard from Jos today?’ To the phone calls made within that half hour waiting for my bus to go home, to me knowing that the next call coming through was going to bad. I knew it before I knew it, shit, I had already played it out in my head, I was getting off the bus to meet my mom at the hospital, because I assumed she was going to call back saying there was a message on the answering machine that she had been in an accident. The bus was pulling out as she called back and it’s as if the conversation played out in my head minutes prior, except she called frantic that she wasn’t breathing. I ran off the bus, planning to meet them, just to find out it wasn’t needed.

I was the last one to get there that night by the time I got a ride back. When I got there all of my family and then some were there, including her, as they hadn’t come to get her yet. I remember feeling a sigh of relief when my mom said she didn’t want me to go in because she didn’t want me to see her like that. And then there was the guilt the next day for not seeing her, for not laying with her, for not getting in more kisses and hugs when I had the chance. For being selfish, like I always was, for relying on someone to tell me what to do, for being afraid of what I’d see, afraid of it being real.

My dad was in Montana on his first mule hunting trip so we had to wait until he could get home. I can’t imagine what that day must’ve felt like for him, feeling a million miles away, unable to get a flight out sooner, walking around aimlessly feeling even more hopeless then we did actually being there, surrounded by everyone. I remember walking to the car to meet with the funeral home and saying to my fiance, “Is this really happening? We’re going to make funeral arrangements? Is this our life, is this for real?” And him responding, “yes, I’m so sorry”.

The funeral was on a Sunday, it was November – colder then hell, raining and sleeting. The family had visitation prior and I just wanted to hog her! There just wasn’t enough time to fit in every single I love you, I’m sorry, kiss and hug for all the times I chose not too. We were told due to the amount of people lined up, we needed to begin earlier and I remember being pissed. Pissed because I didn’t care who was standing in the freezing rain, this was all we had left with her, tomorrow she would gone forever, we needed this time – we deserved this time! The next 6+ hours consisted of hugging and talking to about 1100 people, one of the largest wakes they had hosted to date. It was overwhelming to see the amount of people that came through, from old to young alike. But I couldn’t help but think, do you see this Josie?! Did you have any idea how many people your choice has affected? I wish you knew, why did it have to be this way in order for you to see it? Those hours consisted of going through the motions, being introduced to people, hugging, and saying thank you for coming, but oddly enough, not all that much crying. As I would look out beyond the people’s shoulders that were standing in front of me, seeing no end in site to the line, there would be certain random faces that would just trigger a melt down. But all in all, as we stood on the other side, we held our shit together pretty well!

The funeral was worse for me, once again we weren’t able to get additional time with her like we’d planned due to the number of people packed in the church. And once again, I was pissed because I didn’t give a shit – this was it – this was the last time of any physical contact with her, even if it was in this form. As I bent over to kiss her and hold her hand and try and squeeze in the last of apologies and I love yous, I managed to lose a contact through the tears. This was less then ideal being that I was doing the eulogy! The closing of the casket was about enough to make all of us hit our knees as we knew this was it. The remainder of the service I concentrated on trying to hold it together so I could make it through the eulogy, I knew if one tear fell while I was up there, it’d be game over and I wouldn’t be able to finish it. I did – I delivered and I felt I owed her that. As we exited they played Eagles Wings, one of my favorite hymns and that’s when I lost it, following the casket out to the hearse, but it was worse watching them lower her in the ground. I remember being told the services are more for everyone else to come and mourn the loss and pay respects to the family, then it is for the family. It isn’t until after that, do you get a glimpse of what our new reality is about to look like. We learned how much truth was behind that statement.

Fortunate is an understatement of what were when it came to family, friends and community support. I mean, besides the fact that the wake alone consisted of 1100 people, the amount of people that remembered long after that was still so impressive. People were stopping by a few months after, always calling and asking what they do or how they could help – the response was so humbling in so many ways. Looking back, it’s overwhelming to think how fortunate we were and are! The simple gestures of hand written cards with poems and nice letters, not even just then, but for birthdays and anniversaries to follow – that people remembered! Things that are so hard to appreciate at the time, but that speak volumes in so many ways, that we often forget as the time passes. Not many can say that and I feel fortunate that we can.

But despite the tremendous support surrounding us, there was still this calm after the storm – when the world around you starts going back to their hustle and bustle and you’re forced to have to sit with it and really swallow and digest it. It was in the quiet that it really started to settle, the pain began settling both physically and mentally and the sobering truth spoke volumes. It was learning how to recalibrate our days of going back to work and into society with this….heaviness. To know eyes are on you, not knowing what to say, and if they did say anything, it didn’t matter anyways, because nothing took away the pain. Nothing even put a dent in it. It was hard to appreciate those that expressed their condolences because I was so numb, that and it was the fear of breaking down. It was such a toss up at first, one day it’s as if I was offended if someone didn’t say anything and then other days I’d pray they wouldn’t because I wouldn’t be able to contain the tears! To attempt to focus on the task sitting in front of me was next to impossible because the only thing I could think about was her. Where I went wrong, how I didn’t see it, how the rest of the world gets to pick up and move forward and how I have no clue what or where in the hell to go from here. Who am I? What is my life? Is this real or am I still in a nightmare? When will I wake up? There were no amount of words or actions that were going to change the outcome or bring me any type of peace. It was nice and it was humbling, don’t get me wrong, but at the time, I couldn’t appreciate it.

The destruction that came afterwards, the kind that settled in with the stillness and quiet – this new ‘norm’ – this new ‘reality’ – this new what the fuuuuuuuck?! It’s as if you’re looking at your life through an outside lens saying “what’s happening, where are you, did the plot in the story change – get out of this!” ha And to think, on so many levels – it was only just the beginning.

Continue reading Missing Piece

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

Detour with V

Blog - wake up V entryFor all of you who are feeling stuck, shit outta luck, sick and tired of being sick of tired, unsure of why you’re at a stand still in life, in a war with yourself in your head, staring at the other side of the road but completely unsure as to how to get over there – I encourage you to read further.
I’ve been at a stand still with the blog – 11 entries started, none completed! ha For any that follow or have asked how I’ve learned to heal or move forward, although I will be talking about more in detail about that as the entries move forward, I’d like to share this part with you.

My name is Amanda. I will describe myself as pre-Vanessa, and post-Vanessa.

Prior to starting this more intense part of my journey on my ‘path to purpose’, I would have best described myself as a single mother, who endured a very intense amount of hurt in a short amount of time about 8 years ago. Although I never doubted the fact that I was meant to do more in this life, I was stuck in a dark place of mental, physical and emotional pain.  I held an insane amount of anger and sadness within me – more than I ever realized.

I became ‘stuck’ in this repetitive pattern of self-hatred and self-destructive behavior, relying on outside crutches to temporarily ‘fix’ me. I was always standing at point A staring at a foggy version of point C, but was never able to bridge them together. I just continued in what seemed like a never-ending game of cat and mouse.

That’s when I met Vanessa – she was my bridge, she was the start of a clearer vision to a brighter future.

Less then a year after having the pleasure of crossing paths with Vanessa and completing the Wake Up Package – I would say I have more than ‘woken up’ in so many more aspects of my life, more than I could’ve realized! As a person, my world and I have changed from the inside out.

Have you ever wondered how you can be so sure of something and yet never know why?

Have you ever noticed how the dots in life can be perfectly connected when you look backwards?

That was me with Vanessa–I had no idea who she was, but from a very generic, brief description from a friend of a friend, I somehow knew that she would be able to help me. Without thinking twice, I connected with her and the rest is history. Words cannot explain but I would call it something beyond a ‘soul connection’.

I was at a career crossroads, debating on changing careers. Debating on incurring more school debt and reducing the status of my full time job to do so. For whatever reason, I knew she was the intervention and guide I needed right then and there while I was on the brink of making this decision. However, I had no idea of the extent that she would be able to help in every area of my life, not just my career. I was oblivious to the depth in which I needed the help and the how very badly fogged my lens on life was!

THE NAME ‘THE WAKE UP PACKAGE’ COULDN’T HAVE A BETTER TITLE–BECAUSE THERE’S NO DENYING THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT DID, AND WILL DO FOR YOU AS WELL!

I began to realize the perception I lived in, the chains that bound me to problems I thought I could never move beyond. Somehow those constant stop and yield signs began to dissipate once and for all. The cruise control was off, and I was finally awake while driving, enjoying the scenery as I passed by.

Now, I would be lying if I said this process was pain free or there was a direct flight! There were times when it was a very painful process; times when I was forced to rip the bandage off, forced to realize that in one hand, I held both the bullet to the gun and the keys to the shackles of my own life all at once. But the liberation that comes with it, I can’t quite explain. The weight that was lifted from me after completing this process. It’s something that I have never felt before. The best part is, after you complete the package, you’re ‘done’ per se, but on so many levels, you’ve only just begun.

You want to keep learning in the school of life and Vanessa is ALWAYS there as a constant resource for those ‘pick me up’ sessions to get you through as you need it. She’s not just a life stylist, she’s a phenomenal traffic director, because as she’s trying to help you clear those ‘road closed’ signs, she’s a resource to so many other healing modalities and people.

The amount of connections that I made just through her in a short amount of time was unreal! I honestly can’t thank her enough, for not only helping me to finally free myself, but to help my family as well. To help us to see what the ‘flipping of a lens’ can do. The services that Vanessa offers are truly priceless: these are things that you won’t learn from a textbook, from a therapist or on the job training–and the best part is–they can be used in EVERY aspect of your life for the REST of your life.

Thank you for showing me what liberation from myself feels like.  It feels so good to finally be able to stand on the other side of the road and see how far I’ve come in a short amount time! Originally that was a road I couldn’t even see across. Thank You for the life-long connections and lessons you’ve taught me along the way. To know you are only a phone call, Skype session or a short drive away from wherever in the world I happen to be is such a comforting feeling.

THANK YOU VANESSA FOR HELPING ME CATCH MY BREATH, FOR REDIRECTING ME ONTO A PATH THAT’S BETTER THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED–AND TO KNOW IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!  

Amanda Ellinghuysen

This is the testimonial I wrote for Vanessa and feel she deserves an entry of her own 🙂 And hey, it’s tax season people! Money to burn, money to burn! And this year – put it towards something that’ll get you farther then the same old mundane shit – live a little – live for yourself, be OK with taking a step in a new and right direction and quit allowing fear and excuses to keep you stuck. Unravel yourself – I PROMISE – you won’t be sorry! 🙂

http://www.vanessafeils.com  http://www.vanessafeils.com/client-love/

Apples to oranges

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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

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

Gluttony and Starvation

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!**