Category Archives: life

December 21, 2023 · 5:49 PM

Merry Right Now

When the kids were little, we made the weeks leading up to Christmas a very big deal. We had an adorable advent activity calendar (hand-sewn by yours truly), and had a different activity planned for every day of December. We baked and crafted and made ornaments and went to the zoo and to parties and to gift-exchanges. We sent cards, we volunteered, we visited Santa. We were busy , and it was tiring and chaotic and lovely. It’s 2023 now, the baby of the family is 15, and life is … different.

And it’s okay.

It’s four days until Christmas, it’s one in the afternoon, and I’m sitting in my pajamas. The house is a mess and there’s about 6 loads of clean unfolded laundry piled in the laundry room. Shopping is done – mostly – but we haven’t wrapped a single thing. There’s a long list of supplies to buy before I start baking. I stopped sending Christmas cards years ago, and the only real traditions we’ve hung onto don’t take place until Christmas Eve.

And it’s okay.

I am turning 50 (!) in twenty days. It has made what is already an introspective time of year ramp up by a factor of ten. Instead of reviewing the past year (which, if I’m being honest, was not the best year of my life), I am reviewing the past decade. It has also allowed me to take a big step back, put things into perspective, and look at the holidays in a way I haven’t done before. I am calm. And I’m almost never calm, especially four days before Christmas.

All of the extraneous “stuff” – presents and lights and cookies and Christmas carols and holiday parties – is all just noise. Pleasant noise at times, to be sure, but still noise. And don’t get me wrong! I love Christmas. I do. I’ll spend it at home with my extended family, and we’ll eat, and exchange gifts, and drink Jingle Juice, and play games into the evening. There’s a lot of privilege involved in being able to say that, and I’m aware of it. For so many, too many, the holidays are unbearably hard.

No matter where you stand, whether you go all in or you just hold on and try to make it through to New Years, I see you. There is so much pressure around the holidays, and it’s okay to handle it in whatever way is best for you. It’s okay to take the pressure off. It’s okay to breathe. It’s okay to be gentle with yourself, and with the people around you. It’s okay to spend the holidays in unconventional ways. It’s okay to ignore the holidays completely.

And honestly? Holidays and birthdays and special occasions are nice and everything, but all we’re really guaranteed is right now. I know it sounds trite, but it’s true. One of the lessons I have learned over and over and OVER in the past 50 years is that true happiness is felt when you’re in the present moment, not living in the past or looking forward to the future.

So I won’t wish you a Merry Christmas. God willing, Christmas is four whole days away. What I WILL do is wish you a sincere and heartfelt Merry Right Now. No matter who you are, or what your life looks like, or what you do or do not celebrate. I hope today is gentle for you. I hope something made you smile. Mostly I hope that you know that just because you exist: you matter and you’re important. I’m glad you’re here.

Much love,

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Filed under Christmas, life

April 24, 2023 · 2:29 PM

5 Reasons I’d Rather Talk To My Kids Over Just About Anyone Else

Sometimes when I head to bed at night, Tegan (15 at the time of this writing) will follow me. We’ll sit on my bed and chat into the late hours… about life, boys, and our hopes for the future. It is often my favorite part of the day. I love my kids of course, but I also genuinely like them, and so enjoy spending time with them. Making time to talk to my kids – to just eschew all distractions, give them all of my attention, and just LISTEN – is something I consider one of the most important parts of being a parent. Selfishly, it’s also one of the most gratifying. My kids are my favorite people on the planet, and these are just a few reasons why.

They’re smart – I don’t mean book smart (though they’re that too!). I mean life smart. When I was a teenager, I didn’t know which way was up. I had no earthly clue who I was, no idea what I stood for, no sense of self at all. But my kids know who they are. They know how the world works, and they know their place in it. I am blown away at how thoughtful and sophisticated their thought process is. Yes, they have growing up to do (don’t we all?) but today’s young people are far smarter and more mature than most adults like to give them credit for. They have a lot to offer … to us, to each other, to the world at large. We just need to be willing to listen.

They’re kind – One of Tegan’s favorite things to say is “That’s not kind.” Sometimes it’s said in a joking way, and sometimes she’s dead serious. If any of us says anything unkind about someone else, she’s the first one to call us out on it. And I’m so glad she does! Tegan reminds me, again and again, about the importance of kindness, and about treating people the way we’d like to be treated. I don’t know where she got her heart from, but it is giant. And it is inspiring. She wants the world to be treated kindly, generously, and with grace, and it’s a lesson I take from her daily. All four of my kids instinctively know how to be kind, how to be gentle, and how to navigate life and relationships in an honest, thoughtful, and caring way. I want to be like them when I grow up.

They’re funny – One of the fun things about having multiple kids is just how different they are, sense of humor included. The oldest is all about the straight up puns and dad jokes. All dad jokes, all day. The 22 year old is very much the opposite, and relies on sarcasm and dead pan delivery. 19 year old is like a comedian: amused by life’s absurdities. And the 15 year old, the baby, is one of those people for whom funny is just a personality trait. She’s funny without trying. All four of them make me laugh, and as it happens, laughing is one of my very favorite things to do.

They’re surprising – One of the coolest things about young people is that they are still learning and growing. We’re still learning and growing throughout our lives of course, but there is just something about getting to witness the leaps and bounds growth in knowledge and maturity that comes with youth. My kids are constantly surprising me… with what they know, with how they think, with what they choose to share. I love it when Everett is in a chatty mood when I pick him up from school, because it means I get to hear about what he learned in class, or what he’s writing his next paper about, or what cool thing his friend told him. I love to hear their opinions and I love to hear their “whys.” I love it when they catch me off guard, and when they make me look at something in a way I’ve never done before.

They’re unique – When I said I didn’t know who I was when I was a teenager, I wasn’t kidding. I tried to be the “good” kid, do what was expected, please the people around me, think/feel/act the way I was supposed to, giving no thought or consideration to my own wants or needs. I feel like I didn’t even begin to scratch that “Who am I?” question until I was in my twenties forties. My kids though… dang. They know who they are. Yes, they’re still figuring things out like everyone else, but they are not afraid to be who they are, and I so admire that. I feel so lucky that I get a front row seat: to their quirks, their personalities, their likes, their dislikes, those weird little idiosyncrasies that make us who we are. Idiosyncrasies that are not just accepted, but CELEBRATED.

It doesn’t matter which kid is in front of me, or what the topic of conversation might be. School. Work. Friends. Politics. Pop culture. Food. Video games. Movies. Music. Dreams. Nightmares. Pet peeves. I am here for it.

I am here for all of it.

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March 31, 2023 · 12:08 PM

Life Is Fragile. Go Easy.

Life is fragile. Go easy.

Earlier this month, I posted those words on Facebook. I didn’t provide context at the time, but my uncle had just died. He had been undergoing cancer treatment for awhile, but he had recently moved from Arizona across the country to be with his daughter and grandchildren. They only had a matter of weeks together before the end of his life, and it was sudden and devastating. He was the second uncle I lost in as many months, and the double loss hit me hard.

Yes, March was a hard month.

Earlier this week there was yet another school shooting, this time in Tennessee. At this moment, 6 families are dealing with fact that their loved ones are never coming home, more victims of the ongoing surge of gun violence.

Yesterday, one of my kids had a close friend – someone they’ve been friends with half their life – abruptly end the friendship in a fantasically and unnecessarily cruel and mean-spirited way. It’s not so much the ending of the friendship (Friendships sometimes end. It’s an unfortunate but true reality) but the way it was handled that was just so mean.

I have a lot of feelings right now. Y’all, my soul is tired. But the prevailing thing I keep thinking is this: The world is burning right now, and this is how we treat each other? Everything feels very difficult right now, very heavy, very sad. And it’s always so strange to me how so many different thoughts and feelings and experiences can exist at the same time. The world is burning, and I’m still smack in the middle of the spring semester for school. The world is burning, and Everett is excitedly preparing to leave for Ireland in just a couple months. The world is burning, and Tegan is getting ready to record her audition videos for her National competition. The world is burning, and we’re looking forward to going to a concert by one of her favorite artists next week. Cancer, and evil, and the betrayal of false friends all exist. So do hope, and joy, and excitement. And we never know where someone is lying on the spectrum. We never know what someone else is going through.

Life is hard. And the only way I know how to deal with that is with more kindness. More softness. More grace. More listening. I get….. weary, for lack of a better word, at the state of the world at large. Especially on social media. Dear Lord, the comment sections! People can be so, so unkind. Sometimes it’s strangers (in which case, the delete and block buttons are handy), and sometimes, like this week, it’s close to home. I’ve said it already, and I’ll say it again: My soul is tired.

Please. Please, be kind. It costs nothing.

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September 7, 2018 · 6:19 PM

An Honest Day’s Work

In case you missed it:

Last week, a shopper at a Trader Joes in New Jersey recognized the cashier.  It was actor Geoffrey Owens, who played Elvin Tibideaux on The Cosby Show back in the ’80s.  She snapped some photos, sent them to a tabloid, and a media firestorm erupted.

Thankfully, the vast majority of people came to Owen’s defense.  Here was a successful actor and family man, who through either choice, circumstance, or a little of both, was paying the bills by working at Trader Joes.  I use the past tense because the undue attention caused him to have to quit his job (although, to their credit, Trader Joes told him to consider it a leave of absence and to come back whenever he’d like), and a national conversation about “job shaming” came to the surface.

All honest work has dignity and worth.  Let me just start there.  It bothers me on a deep level, for example, every time someone makes an off-the-cuff remark about someone only being qualified to “flip burgers.”

Flipping burgers has dignity and worth.  Flipping burgers puts clothes on people’s backs, and food on their tables.  So does running a cash register, bagging groceries, and stocking shelves.

A few years ago someone asked me a series of semi-hostile questions about unschooling, culminating in wondering if unschoolers could go to college or if they could “just work in a trade.”

(Yes, unschoolers can go to college if they so choose, which is another topic altogether.)

But JUST a trade?  When did we become such vocational snobs?  We need people working in trades!  We need plumbers and mechanics and electricians just as much as we need doctors and lawyers and engineers.  Who gets to decide that one is worth more than the other?  Who gets to decide that one is worthy of more respect?  Of more dignity?

The fact is, we’re surrounded by hard workers on a daily basis, many of whom continually get taken for granted.  In the past couple weeks alone, we’ve utilized a car rental company, an auto shop (fender bender, anyone?), a pool repair man, waitstaff, various cashiers, a doctor, a pharmacy tech, customer service, and a whole host of staff members at a hotel.  The common thread?  People earning an honest living.  People working hard to put food on the table.  People working hard to support themselves, their loved ones, their children.  Some are working these jobs as a pit stop on their way to something else, some are working these jobs to support themselves while they pursue a less financially stable craft, some are working these jobs as long-term careers, and some are working these jobs simply because they enjoy them.  All are okay.  All are honorable.

Including, but not limited to, Geoffrey Owens working at Trader Joes.

As an interesting post-script to the story, all the publicity surrounding Owens prompted  producer Tyler Perry to offer him an acting job (which he accepted) on the seventh season of The Have and The Have Nots.   So one lady’s moment of poor judgement ended up leading him to a new opportunity, one that I truly hope he will enjoy and be enriched by.

But if that wasn’t the way the story had gone?  If he’d continued to work at Trader Joes, along with or instead of acting?

I’d at least hope he’s buoyed by the hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of people who heard about the story, and took a stand.  Hardworking people from every demographic out there.  People who won’t tolerate a fellow human being disrespected.  People who know the value of hard work, and know that not one of us is better than the other.

People who speak up at injustice, who stand on a wall at say, “Not today.  Not on my watch.”

To Mr Owens, I see you and I wish you well… no matter where your next job ends up taking you.

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Filed under hot topics, life, rant

August 23, 2018 · 9:07 AM

Reality Check

There’s a new list (read: harsh edict) floating around Facebook, and it’s being touted as a “must-read” for every teacher and parent, particularly those of teenagers.  While I’ll concede right up front that some of these are true, the entire list is steeped in negativity.  It is cold and uncaring, and sounds as though it were written in anger.  Honestly, lists like this kind of baffle me.  I assume the goal is supposed to be to change one’s behavior…. but if life is really as terrible as this describes, what exactly would be the incentive to do so?

Here is the original list, along with my response:

1. You WILL NOT be rewarded for bad behavior.

You shouldn’t do anything, good or bad, for extrinsic rewards.  Rather, I want you to do things because they align with your own sense of right or wrong, good or bad.  While you may not be rewarded for certain decisions, you are a human and you are allowed to make mistakes.  You will still be loved and accepted, unconditionally.

2. Being told “No” is a part of life.  GET OVER IT.

Being told “no” is unfortunately a lesson that life will teach us all at some point or another.  Life does this all on its own, so I will never manufacture a “no” for the sole purpose of driving the point home.   Don’t ever let life’s “no’s” define you, either.  Because you know what?  Life will tell you “yes” sometimes too.

3. You are free to make your choice, you ARE NOT free of the consequences. 

This is another one that life will in fact teach us on its own.  Consequences for our actions are one of life’s big teachers, to be sure.  Our job isn’t to be threatened by them, but to trust them, and to empower ourselves to learn from them.

4. Life IS NOT fair.

(This seems as good a time as any to point out that excessive use of caps and underlines doesn’t exactly command respect.  Instead it conveys anger and insecurity)

Yes, sometimes life really doesn’t feel fair.  And when that happens, it’s a time to be mad if you need to (you’re allowed to be mad!), regroup and move on.  And when life isn’t fair for one of your friends or loved ones?  Be their soft spot to land on, and their constant port in the ever changing world.

5. You are not the boss.

Not the boss of who?  Yourself?  Damn skippy you’re the boss!!  Personal autonomy is one of the most important gifts we have in this life.  You make your decisions.  You forge your path.  You choose what kind of person you will be.   No matter what a day may be, it begins and ends with you being your own boss.

6. The world does not revolve around you.

The world doesn’t revolve around any of us.  Or rather, the world revolves around all of us, working together…. which is never going to happen if we’re constantly shaming and demoralizing each other with angry “reality checks.”

7. Respect is EARNED, it is NOT just given.  

I actually think it’s the opposite.  I think respect should be the default.  Respect should be given freely and without condition.  People will show us if they don’t deserve it.

8. The world owes you NOTHING.  Work for it.

Hard work is wonderful.  So is being kind, to yourself and to others.  So is acting with integrity, and decency, and self-respect.  Who does or does not owe you anything is irrelevant.

9. Fits and tantrums will get you NOTHING. Stop wasting your time.

This made me chuckle a little bit in its irony.  The entire tone of this original list is that of a tantrum.  And I agree, in this particular case, that it gets you nothing.

10. You put yourself here.  YOU need to fix YOU.  

Not a one of us put ourselves here.  Let’s just start there.  To be blunt about it, we’re here because two people procreated.  It’s our choice what we do with out lives to be sure, but it’s not our choice to be here.  The onus on us is to live our best lives and be our best selves, not be so shouldered with so much guilt and unnecessary responsibility that we don’t even want to bother.

11.  Shut your mouth, open your ears.

Here’s the thing.  Even if I’d agreed with the entire list, you’d have lost me with this one.  It’s unkind and unnecessary.  We don’t influence behavior, win friends, or gain respect by telling people to “shut their mouths.”  And on the contrary, lots of forward progress has been made in this country, and in this world, precisely because people did not shut their mouths.

Life has some harsh lessons sometimes, this much is true.  But the answer is never, ever more harshness.

 

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Filed under gentle parenting, hot topics, life, lists, parenting

July 26, 2018 · 9:11 AM

Moving And The Bipolar Brain

I am dashing this post off quickly, the deal I made with myself that I could only write as long as my coffee lasts. Today is our last official day in this house. We closed on our sale yesterday, and we close on the new house today. When Mike gets home from work, we’ll bring over our first load of stuff (and get our first look at the house as its new owners!), and we’ve rented the U-Haul for tomorrow.

This has been a wild ride. Yesterday, after I finally got to the point in packing where it felt like we were almost done, was the first day I let myself get a little bit excited. Daunted – do you have any idea how much stuff a family can accumulated over twelve years?! – but excited. As I wrote in my last post, MOVING IS STRESSFUL. And it occurred to me yesterday, as I was bawling to a friend about how overwhelmed I was, that my bipolar does not help.

So listen, I don’t want to be, “Oh, it’s HARDER for me than most people!” But, well, I really think it’s harder for me than for most people. For a myriad of reasons, really, but for two big reasons in particular.

1) Lack of predictable routine.  One of my biggest triggers (perhaps tied for first place with people who are condescending) is when my schedule is all out of whack.  Even happy occasions, like the vacation we took a couple of weeks ago, are HUGELY stressful.  It’s not that every day needs to be exactly the same, but more like I need to know in advance  what the day is going to entail so that I can adjust.  I need to take my morning meds at this time, my evening meds at this time, I need to go to bed at the right hour, I need to have enough time alone.  When sleep is short, like it has been lately, I start to unravel.  Throw in unknowns that come with packing and showings and contractors and appraisals and inspections and dates that are up in the air, and I struggle not to fall apart.  And I get that it would be stressful to a lot of people (indeed, stressful to MOST people), but perhaps not to the level of, “OH MY GOD I NEED TO SEE MY DOCTOR. MY MEDS NEED ADJUSTING. I CAN’T HANDLE THIS.  NO, IT’S NOT YOUR MEDS, IT’S JUST STRESS.  YOU’RE OKAY. YOU’RE OKAY. YOU’RE OKAY.” Ad infinitum, day after day. It has taken a LOT of positive self-talk to get through, as well as so, so much reassurance from my trusted people that tell me, “It’ll be okay.  YOU will be okay.”

2) The emotions.  And yes, I wrote about this in my last post too, but it can’t be overstated.  My emotions are RAW.  I mean, bipolar is a mood disorder… my emotions are usually raw.  But right now?  They’re like exposed nerves, excruciatingly painful to even the slightest touch.  All the packing and sorting and emotional letting go has been devastating to my equilibrium, laying bare everything I’ve carefully kept hidden.  I’m an open wound.  (And, again, I’m usually an open wound), but at the moment that open wound is gaping.  And boy howdy is that sucker bleeding. I’m on a hair trigger, angry one minute, consumed with grief the next, getting my feelings hurt at the slightest provocation, paranoid about every last spoken word, gesture, and relationship (the latter of which probably has more to do with the BPD than bipolar, which is… a post for another day)  But suffice it to say, the emotions have been intense.  Preparing to leave this house has been intense.  Buying a new one has been intense.

And don’t get me wrong.  I love the new the house.  I’m excited to move into it and start making it home.  But in the meantime… I’m struggling.  I will be okay!  But I’m struggling.

I am thankful for (in no particular order)

  • Pharmaceuticals
  • Having an amazing realtor who made it all as smooth as possible
  • Having friends who’ve let me boo-hoo all over them when it got to be too much
  • Calming tools I’ve learned in therapy, to get myself out of my head, back into reality, and back into the present.  (And in the present there are no problems to solve)
  • A family who really does try to get it

We are so close!  So, so close.

My coffee mug is almost empty, there are clean clothes to be folded, and last minute odds and ends to be packed.  I can do it.  I can do tomorrow too, complete with all its craziness.

And when all is said and done, it’ll just be another little blip.  Another tiny notch in the totem pole that says, “Here was this thing.  It was hard, but I did it.”

P.S.  My blog just recently got a spot in this Top Ten Parenting Blogs About Bipolar list. (Which is pretty cool, and the reason I was inspired to write about bipolar today).  Check out the rest of the list!  And if you want to support my work, Patreon is a great way to do that.  You can pledge as little as $1, and help feed my prolific coffee habit to keep me writing.

See you from the NEW HOUSE soon!!

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Filed under bipolar, life, mental health

July 3, 2018 · 11:36 AM

packing. moving. healing.

A start

So if you follow me on any of my social media accounts (handy-dandy buttons are right over there on your right if you don’t), or if you know me in 3D life, you know we’re in the middle of moving.

Moving. Is. Exhausting. The kind of exhausting that you feel in every pore of your body.

But I’ll get back to that.

This move is one that’s been a long time coming.  For those who don’t want the story, and want the quick little primer:  We bought this house in 2006 as an investment.  It was never meant to be a long term home, or really a home at all.  We were going to completely remodel it (which we did), live in it temporarily (temporarily is such a relative term!), and then flip it.  But… because this is life, and because we’re us, this is when the market completely tanked, home values dropped into the toilet, and we went upside down in our mortgage almost overnight.   Now, in 2018, we’re finally able to sell.  Our little short term investment lasted us 12 years.

Now, I’m convinced that there’s never actually a good time to move.  It’s a massively huge, stressful undertaking, no matter when you do it.  But doing it right now??  While it was a good time when it came to the real estate market, it was decidedly NOT a good time otherwise.  We’re in the final stages of planning our conference, which has had far more than its normal share of hiccups; I just finished another semester of school last week; I’m dealing with the changes and side effects that come with adjusting 27 medications (Not really 27.  But it might as well be)  Oh. And.  We’re leaving on an 11 day road trip TOMORROW, less than one month before we close… just because Mike happened to have a work thing, and we happened to think it’d be a good idea to tag along and see the sights.  All the stress, all the emotions, all the fatigue, wrapped in a neatly labeled banker’s box and tied with a bow.

And let me just say right here, before I go any further?  There is a reason that moving consistently shows up on top five lists of most stressful life events.  Right up there with losing a job, getting a divorce, and even having a death in the family.  It’s no joke.

Because here’s the thing.  Packing up a house you’ve lived in for 12 years is really, really hard.  It’s hard in the sense that it’s physically demanding, gross, sweaty, dusty work (which I realize does not reflect well on our house-keeping skills), but even more than that, it’s emotionally hard.  It’s mentally hard.  It’s like…. it’s like therapy, on speed, in Disneyland, on the fourth of July.  It hurts down to the center of your bones.  It’s conflicting work too, because at the same time that you’re having to tell yourself that it’s all just unnecessary “stuff” – and let it be known that we threw out dozens, DOZENS, of bags of old junk – you’re also brutally reminded that it’s not just stuff.  It’s memories.  It’s nostalgia.  It’s happiness.  It’s sadness.  It’s regret.  It’s touching these little pieces of your past that brings you back to the time at the place with the person with a visceral energy that’s so real it almost makes it hard to breathe.   Over.  And over.  And over again.  It hurts.  Moving hurts.

It’s about healing.  And it’s about finally letting go.  It’s about forcing yourself to finally let it go.

It’s painful.  The gifts from the people you’re no longer friends with.  The photos of the relatives that are no longer on this earth.

It’s puzzling.  WHY do I still have this coupon for Honey Bunches of Oats from 2007?

It’s exhausting.  It’s bittersweet.  The tiny shoes.  The baby blankets.  The little hats.  The photos. The early drawings.  The handmade Mothers’ Day cards.

It hurts.

Every single thing you lay your hands on, whether it gets lovingly packed, passed on to someone else, or is destined for the land fill… it’s all part of your story.  Every single bit of it.  For better or worse it all went into the elaborate tapestry that is today.  It all had meaning, no matter how vague, no matter how obscure.  Yes, it’s just stuff.  But it’s stuff with a history.   A rich one.  One that you must revisit, bit by bit by bit.

We had a big box that was tucked away in one of our lower kitchen cabinets.   It was affectionately referred to as… well, “the box”.  Whenever we had unexpected company coming, or otherwise had to pick up in a hurry, any sort of paperwork, mail, etc, got tossed in the box.  I don’t know how long it was there, but it was long enough to be falling apart.  One whole side had fallen away under the weight of its contents, the entire thing was sagging, and it had somehow expanded to include the space inside the box, as well as all the area surrounding it.

A couple of weeks ago, we dumped the box out on the table and started sorting.  We came across a Christmas card, and in it was a picture of one of the boys’ friends from what seems like a lifetime ago.  I’m not sure of the exact date, but it was at least 9 or 10 years old.  It’s a bittersweet picture, because we have not been friends with that family since probably very shortly after the photo was taken.   I don’t know what happened.  It was one of those weird life things in which we never found closure.  We were friends – good friends even – and then one day they left Paxton’s birthday party without saying goodbye, and never spoke to us again.  They just stopped being our friends.  I wondered for a long time what had happened at that party;  I wondered for a long time what could have been so egregious that she couldn’t answer an email, that we couldn’t have talked it out.  But I still don’t know.

And fast forward to today, and here’s this smiling face of a little boy who is now very likely in college.

We pinned it up on my bulletin board, because we thought it would be funny, and because we wanted to see how long it would take Mike to notice it.  It’s not unusual for us to pin pictures up there, though usually they’re the random headshots of people from political advertisements or real estate fliers.  (Is that weird?)  It amuses us, in any case.  This picture though… while not painful exactly, it made me… uncomfortable.  It made me think of the past.  Not just of them, but of every lost friendship I’d ever had ever.

And I’m so glad we put it up there.

I’ve walked by that photo every day for weeks now, and it’s come to stand for something important.  It stands for healing.  It stands for letting go.  It stands as a reminder that I can make it through the icky parts of life.  It stands as a reminder that I can do hard things.  It stands for one chapter ending, and another chapter (a good one!  an exciting one!) beginning.   A chapter that – no matter how very stressful it is to get there – I’m very much looking forward to.

New beginnings.  It stands for new beginnings.

And for a handful of really big reasons, and about a hundred and twenty seven little ones, I really need a new beginning.

When I finally get rid of that picture… that picture of the boy that was once lovingly sent in a Christmas card… When I get rid of that picture?  I’ll finally be ready.

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Filed under about me, life, memories, Uncategorized

June 20, 2018 · 10:02 AM

What If You’re Wrong About Depression?

Depression is a mind game. If you stop thinking about it then it will eventually go away.

I read that on Instagram this morning, but I see the same comment in various iterations on a daily basis.

Just think positively!

Look at all you have to be thankful for!

Step out of the darkness and into the light!

Well meaning, to be sure, but it’s not as simple as that.  It’s just not.

And we could debate all day about the causes and treatments of depression, and whether or not it’s even a real thing.  It’s a chemical imbalance.  No, it’s all in your head (side note, I saw a cute meme that retorted with something along the lines of, “Well where do you expect it to be, in my kidney?”)  It’s all just a state of mind.  It can be fixed with diet.  You just need more sunshine.  You just need drugs.  Drugs make it worse.  You need therapy.  Psychiatry is just a bunch of pseudo-science quackery.  Just stop thinking about it.

Etc

Etc

Etc

But the thing is, for the purposes of my point here, none of the above really matters.  It doesn’t.  Because just pretend for a second, just for a second, that you’re wrong, and that the person in question truly CAN’T just positively think their way out of depression.  Do you know what comments like yours do to a person with depression?  They minimize them.  They invalidate them.  They make them feel – when they are already at their most desperately lowest point – that they’re doing something wrong.  They make them feel worthless, and they make them even less likely to seek help.

At best, comments like these are annoyances… thinly veiled insults wrapped in a pretty bow of concern.

But at their worst?  They can be the very last thread on someone’s already rapidly fraying rope.   This is going to sound harsh, but your comment could literally mean the difference between a person’s choosing to tread water another day, or letting the rope slip through their fingers.

I think that of all the ways we hurt each other as human beings (and boy howdy, are we good at hurting one another), one of the worst is simply when we don’t see each other.  When we don’t listen.  When we tell each other, through actions and inactions both that we don’t matter.  That our feelings and experiences are not valid.  Are not real.

IT HURTS TO BE MINIMIZED.

In fact, at this moment in time, I can think of few things that hurt more.  I’ve always known that I was more sensitive to this feeling than most people, and I only recently learned why.  In a lovely twist of irony (because what is life if not a giant example of irony?) deciding to open up about this painful facet of my life earned me nothing more than more flippant dismissal.  “Pfft. Oh, that.  We all feel like that.  That’s just being a human.”  So now?  Once again, I feel unsafe sharing.

IT HURTS TO BE MINIMIZED.

Be kind.

If you’re wrong about this (and hell, even if you’re right), you need to know your words matter.  Your words hurt, not help.  Because even IF you’re right?  Even if the depressed person CAN just think they’re way to happiness?  At that moment, that moment that they’re choosing to invite you in… they’re not okay.  What they feel is real.  They need your friendship, they need your love, they need your support.  What they do not need is for you to tell them that they’re wrong to feel what they feel, that they’re wrong to not have pulled themselves up by the bootstraps and fixed it already.

If someone had (fill in the blank with a physical illness – cancer, diabetes, meningitis, asthma) would you tell them it would go away if they would just hurry up and stop thinking about it already?  I’m guessing you probably wouldn’t.  You know that illnesses, from the common cold to leukemia, are complex.  That they’re unique and multi-faceted and require different approaches for each individual person.  You realize this.  You respect this.

It’s 2018.  Can we please start giving mental illnesses the same consideration?

I have written a lot about mental health, especially over the past two years, but this issue is one of the most important, and one of the most personal.  Ironically (see above comment about irony), I’m doing well at the moment.  I’m in balance.  Which is… unexpected, given everything that I have going on right now.  I feel good.  But when that changes – and it will change, because that’s the beautiful cyclical nature of mental illness – please don’t tell me I just need to stop thinking about it.  Please don’t minimize me.  Please don’t tell me what I’m feeling isn’t real.

As anyone with depression can tell you, it’s real.  If nothing else, it starts and ends with being REAL.

P.S.  I just posted an update over on Patreon if you want to know what’s going on in my 3D life at the moment.  🙂  It is set to public, so you don’t need to be a Patron to read it.

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Filed under bipolar, depression, kindness, life, mania, mental health, rant

June 5, 2018 · 6:25 PM

After The Wiping Days Are Over

Too many years ago

“I’m all done!”

It came from inside one of the bathroom stalls…. a sweet, tiny, sing-song voice that made my uterus hurt just to hear it.

It wasn’t one of mine.  We’re many many years removed from requiring any bathroom help.  But as I stood there, taking my time as the warm water washed the soap off my hands, I couldn’t help but smile.  The mom of the owner of the little voice was momentarily distracted with a sibling, so after a beat the voice rang out again, this time with a little more urgency.

“I’m all dooo-ne!”

For a minute, I just hung there, suspended somewhere between my nostalgia and the truth.  Hadn’t my kids just been that tiny?  The truth is, at 21, nearly 18, 14, and 10, my kids are far beyond any descriptions of tiny.  A full half of them are no longer technically kids at all.  Two are taller than me, one’s on his way, and my “baby” just turned double-digits 4 months ago.

It’s perhaps one of the biggest parenting cliches.  “It goes so fast.  Enjoy every minute!”

Except, it’s true.  It’s really really true.  And the nostalgia that hit me in the bathroom, the unlikeliest of places, nearly took my breath away.  It really does go that fast.  

And it’s so dang filled with beauty.  And pain.  And memories of times that you sometimes wish you could freeze, and sometimes wish you could skip over.  Parenting is like life, but…. condensed.  Until the good times and beautiful times and times that bring you to your knees come rushing back to your consciousness one day in the bathroom of your daughter’s theater.

It goes so fast. 

And don’t get me wrong.  Having older kids is its own kind of wonderful.  There are a host of new things to look forward to,  and exciting things to enjoy to be sure.  But my kids…. my sweet, funny, intelligent, fierce kids just don’t need me in the same way that they used to.  And that’s really its own kind of bittersweet mourning.

So today I’m thinking of that mom.  The mom of the sweet little bathroom singer who needed help wiping.  Are you stressed?  Had you been running around crazy all morning worrying about lack of sleep and diaper bags and sippy cups and getting everyone into their car seats? Mom to mom, I get it.  I do.  It’s tiring!  Some days, it’s downright, to your very bones, exhausting.

And my humble advice, summed up to the very best of my ability:  Soak in those good days, breathe on the shitty ones, and know – really truly, deeply know – that it really does go by in the blink of an eye.

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May 26, 2018 · 8:39 AM

Faking It

So, the other day I was complaining to a friend about my statistics class.  The class hadn’t even started yet now that I think about it, but I’d read the syllabus and the individual modules and learning objectives and I was…. overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed before I’d even started.  (This is my second go-around with Statistics, by the by.  I’d taken it a hundred years ago in my first foray at college, and I ended up taking it pass/fail so it wouldn’t bring down my GPA.)

Anyway.

I complained to my friend, and she said:  “You can do it!”

Me:  “I’m not so sure.”

Friend:  “Fake it till you make it?”

Me:  ::Sigh::  “Sometimes it feels like that’s my whole life.”

Just last week, a mom I’d recently met through Tegan’s play was chatting with me while we washed our hands at the bathroom sink.  “You have four kids?  How do you do it?  You’re so calm!”

I don’t even remember what I said in response, but what I did not say was the truth:  That whatever calmness she saw was through the aid of pharmaceuticals and faking, in equal measure.

Like many depressed people I know, I’ve gotten really good at “smiling depression.”  Smiling on the outside, crying on the inside.  Putting on a (if I do say so myself), reasonable or even impressive display of happy.  Of friendly.  Of normal.  I smiled a lot last week.  I also went to sleep crying at least two or three nights, and woke up crying just as many.

I write so much about gentle parenting.  I dismantle all the common mainstream ways of doing things, and I wax poetic about how we can do things better.  I don’t write about the fact that as of late my patience and emotional reserve have been so shot that it is taking all of my energy not to snap at my kids just for … talking, or for making any sort of noise, or for being in my space.  I don’t write about the fact that I’m currently so completely flummoxed about an issue I’m having with one of my children that I’m immobilized.  That I haven’t the slightest CLUE how to handle it.

I’m good at faking.

Some days are hard.

Some days are really, really hard.

I am, as I write, and as I stand before you, the proverbial man behind the curtain.  Pay no attention to him.  Listen to my booming, confident voice!  Listen to my authority!  Listen to my wisdom!

And know, that sometimes, I am faking it.  That I am broken.  That I am scared.  That I, like so many of the rest of us, struggle with not knowing what the hell I’m doing on any given day of the week.  That sometimes, I feel like an impostor in my own life.

I’m good at faking.

My one consolation is in knowing that all of us, at one time or another, at least a little, have faked it.  Faked the happy, the confidence, the friendliness, the conversation.  Faked the fact that we were completely capable of interacting like a normal person when we really just wanted to be home, in bed, with the covers pulled over our head.  Just like my friend suggested, we fake it until we make it.

Today I have things to do.  I have people to see.  I have to put on pants.  I have to have conversations.  I have to be okay. I have to smile and make the right faces and say the right things. And I’ll do it!

And I’ll be faking it.

Because between you and me, right now, in this moment?  I’m tired.  Deep, deep in my bones exhausted.  Mentally, physically, emotionally spent.  At the present time, I am not okay.

But you know what?  Sometimes being not okay is okay too. Sometimes the answer lies not in faking it, but in raw, brutal honesty.  Right now, I’m not okay.

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Filed under about me, anxiety, bipolar, depression, life, mental health