Anxiety and Me

Well, friends, I had a completely different blog planned for this week, but as the saying goes “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Our family got thrown for a loop this week, nothing dangerous or inherently bad, just something unexpected that has made us have to reevaluate some things. As I discussed last week, I am not great with change, and it causes me anxiety, and this particular change has my anxiety through the roof. Thus, that is what I am driven to write about today: anxiety and its role in my life.

Anxiety and I have been linked for a long, long time. I don’t know when I first started experiencing it, but I’d estimate it started peaking around the time I was in middle school. In 8^th grade, I was a mess. I know those years are turbulent for almost everyone, but that period of time was when I remember just feeling as though nothing was in my control. I wasn’t officially diagnosed with anxiety until a very scary incident when I was a senior in high school. I’d been told I had asthma, and one day, as I was experiencing what I thought was an asthma attack, I went to bathroom and used my inhaler. Almost instantly, my heart was racing out of control, I was sweating, faint and extremely lightheaded. I honestly thought I was going to die, right there in my high school. I was walked up to the office, leaning heavily on my friend, and the school nurse was called. Needless to say, the whole experience was terrifying, and embarrassing to boot. My mother took me to the doctor, and soon I had a new diagnosis: depression and anxiety. No more inhaler, but instead an antidepressant and an anti-anxiety medication. Now, depression is a whole other beast, one in which I’ll cover later, but I will say that the two diseases, at least in my case, do tend to feed on one another. However, I tend to suffer more from anxiety than the depression, though I have battled both off and on since I was first diagnosed at 18 (though I feel it does indeed go back years farther, but that’s another story).

There have been times, like my senior year of high school, when my anxiety has been almost unbearable. There have been days where I’ve had panic attacks so bad that it seemed there would be no end to them. There’s truly not many things worse than a full on panic attack. I liken it to an elephant sitting square on your chest, squeezing the breath out of you, until you honestly can’t breathe. At least, that’s what your brain tells you. So you hyperventilate, trying to get the one thing that is evading you: air. For me at least, the pressure builds in my chest and throat and it physically hurts. My hands shake, I have trouble breathing. My heart races. The worst thing? These things come out of absolutely nowhere, and disarm you before you even know there’s a battle. They leave you shaken, exhausted, and scared. I wouldn’t wish such a thing on my worst enemy. Dealing with it knowing the tools of how to calm them is one thing. Dealing with them without those tools? Pure terror.

For me, anxiety is not just one thing. It’s not just panic attacks, or the equally stressful but less scary anxiety attacks (those come on slower, but share some of the same symptoms). I worry, obsessively about things that most people don’t even think twice about. If I ask someone to call me when they get home, and they don’t, my mind ALWAYS jumps to the worst possible scenario without fail. If there’s a test I have to take, I automatically assume I’m going to fail. If I am meeting someone for the first time, I automatically think they will hate me, or judge me, or think that I am stupid. I question every single thing that I do, a hundred times, wondering if it’s the right decision. I run every single conversation I have with people over and over, wondering if I said the wrong thing. It’s an endless loop, all the time.

And then there’s nighttime. I don’t sleep well. It takes me at least 45 minutes or longer every night to even get to sleep. My brain whirs, replying things from 16 years ago that most people would think are insignificant, which they are, but for me, they are cringeworthy moments flashing through my mind. I think up the best, the worst, and every other scenario in between about any and everything. For instance, Scoot has a field trip soon. Her first. My thoughts go something like this: Will she have fun? Will she behave? Will she be safe on the bus? How will her teachers keep track of all those children? What if the bus crashes? What if she gets hurt? What if she gets separated somehow from her class? What if someone takes her? What if? Once I force myself to move on, sternly reminding myself that she will be fine, have a great time, and everything will be okay, my traitorous mind then moves on to the next thing to obsess over. The cycle is never ending. Even when I do get to sleep, I may have dreams. Horribly vivid dreams, depicting those I love dying or getting hurt, while I stand helpless. Those images haunt me in my waking hours.

I keep saying my anxiety because everyone is different. Everyone that battles anxiety has a version that is all their own, and they will develop different skills to combat it. There is no single, cookie cutter cure for anxiety. It’s not as easy as “oh, don’t think like that” or “take a breath, it’s okay.” It’s literally doing battle with your own mind. I get very upset that people think you can simply snap out of being anxious, or when they assume that you only are anxious in social situations. Yes, I have some of that as well (I hate being thrust into situations where I don’t know anyone) but I’ve learned that things like that are going to happen. Anxiety is multifaceted, and it’s difficult to control, even at the best of times. At the worst, it is your very worst nightmare. It is your own mind telling you that all of your worst fears will come true, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It is your mind telling you that people don’t like you, that you don’t measure up, that all the bad things you’ve ever thought about yourself are true. If good things happen to you, you even feel unworthy, as though you don’t deserve them. All because your brain is telling you so. Think about that. The same force that is keeping you alive, telling your heart to beat, and your lungs to inflate, is telling you that you are not worthy.

I think that is what most people don’t understand about anxiety. It’s not just one thing, or social situations. There are a million different triggers, and those triggers are different for different people. Anxiety isn’t a switch that you can just turn off. It is a daily, sometimes minute by minute, battle to live your life without your mind telling you that things are going to go wrong, and get out of control. Times of stress can validate those voices in your mind, reiterating these negative thoughts, and make it even harder to stay ahead of your anxiety. While positive thinking and breathing techniques can help, and I am not knocking them, they don’t work for every person. They also don’t help in every situation. So simply suggesting someone that is struggling with anxiety to “cheer up” or “think happy thoughts” isn’t going to help. In fact, I’ve found that in my case, when I am truly struggling, those comments can make it even worse. I don’t want to think negatively. I don’t want to have these horrible thoughts in my head, but I can’t control them. All I can do is tell myself, sometimes over and over, that these thoughts and worries are unfounded, and go on about my day. In so many ways, I’m lucky. Though I have my moments where I have a very difficult time, my anxiety is mostly controlled. So many people don’t have that luxury, and every day is wrought with overwhelming feelings of fear and pressure and panic. Anxiety is a marathon, where the finish line is consistently moved farther and farther away, and you are always struggling to keep up.

The stigma attached to mental illness also bothers me. So many people see anxiety and depression as weakness, but that is simply bullshit, to put it bluntly. There is nothing harder in this world than doing daily battle with your mind to combat anxiety and depression. It takes so many tools, like positive affirmations, breathing techniques, and a great support system. It’s mental fortitude and an understanding doctor. It’s learning what works for you, and what doesn’t. Sometimes, it’s medication to help stabilize yourself and to cope with the nastier effects of anxiety. Living with anxiety is a tightrope act, and there is absolutely no shame in asking for help when you need it, or being on medication. If you are suffering through anxiety, instead of seeing yourself as weak, consider yourself a warrior, because you are. After all, the very force that keeps you alive is tricking you into thinking that you are in danger, or unworthy, or that you are inherently unlikeable. Having the strength to tell your mind “no”, and fight through that is not only impressive, it’s brave. Know that you aren’t alone, and that there are many, many people that will understand. Don’t feel as though you have to suffer alone. Remind yourself that you ARE worthy. You ARE important. You are NOT weak. You will find your way, no matter how hard it seems at times.

I hope this gives a bit of insight as to what goes on daily in my mind. I don’t claim to be any sort of expert on the subject (or anything else I write about, except maybe boybands!) but as someone that has dealt with anxiety for a long time, I do have intimate knowledge of what living with it is like. The next few weeks in our world are going to be fraught with stress, so I am fully expecting my issues with anxiety to amp up, but that’s okay. I have a wonderful family and friends that are going to help me through the worst of it. I’m going to do my darndest to keep on the same schedule of posting every week, but the next few weeks are going to be a challenge. Bear with me, friends. Now I’m going back to listening to The Greatest Showman soundtrack for the millionth time (today). Until next time!

Changes

Things are a-changing around my household, folks. Hubby and I made the leap, and decided to start looking for a home to call our own. It’s something we’ve been talking about for over a year, but now that it’s here, it’s more than a little scary. The decision to buy a home is huge, and it’s a terrifying commitment. I know it’s a smart decision, and the best one for our family, but that doesn’t make this journey any less daunting.

Want to know a secret? I don’t deal with change very well. Change can be scary. It rattles up your world, shakes things up, and nothing’s ever quite the same afterward. I have a habit of just keeping things as they are, even if I’m not completely satisfied. For me, the devil I know is easier to live with than the one I don’t. It’s a problem I’ve always struggled with. I wish I was more of a risk taker, but I’m simply not that person. It takes a lot to rattle me out of my safe little cage.

That being said, it’s not a quality about myself that I like. I know that my fear of change holds me back at times. I know that an unwillingness to make steps forward may save me from some awkwardness or failure, but it also keeps me from any successes I may have. It’s a pattern that I want to break, and one that I’m trying to work through. I recently read a book that said, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” The book, a self-help and motivational book called T is for Transformation by Shaun T, held many gems like that, and it spoke to me. I don’t want my daughter to learn my bad habits and shy away from change, or things that may be difficult. Of course, her personality is nothing like mine, and she doesn’t shy away from ANYTHING, so I really don’t worry too much about that, but I don’t want to be a bad example nonetheless. I want her to see me as someone that puts the wheels in motion. I want her to see me taking chances, and even doing things that frighten me. I want her to see that people can grow all throughout their lives. Most of all, I want her to know that progress can’t be made in life without change.

I like to think that I am taking baby steps in the right direction. I think that flying to Boston alone last year, something COMPLETELY out of my comfort zone, was one such step. Doing that showed me that I am capable of doing things that I thought I couldn’t do. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t absolutely scared out of my mind walking into that airport alone, going through security alone, and boarding that plane alone, but I did it. That step made me wonder what other changes I could make in my life. I started thinking about my writing, and how much I have always loved it, but how I was too scared to really put myself out there in any meaningful way. I started tinkering with the idea of writing a book, something that I am still working on, but something I would love to do. I am working up to it, I think, day by day, keystroke by keystroke. This blog, in fact, is one more change, one more step in that journey.

I understand that anxiety and fear play into my resistance to change. Yet, more and more, my comfort zone is becoming more confined, and I can’t allow that to happen. If life truly begins outside of my comfort zone, then I am not living. I’m existing, and that’s not good for anyone. Every decision is a chance. Every decision is a potential journey down roads unknown, but that doesn’t mean that it’s bad, or even truly frightening. I don’t want to let my worries over what “might” happen overshadow the progress that I could be making. After all, the first step in any journey, is realizing that it’s time, and then putting a foot forward. Even if you fall, even if you scrape a knee or an elbow, well, aren’t you already farther along than you were at first? Baby steps add up. One day, I hope that I will look back and see this moment in time as one that started me on a new path, one that was fruitful for not just me, but my family as well.

If you are interested in reading T is for Transformation, I highly recommend it. It is faintly based in fitness, however, I found it to be more of a motivational book for all aspects in life. I am including a link for it here, and hope that you’ll check it out, especially if you like Shaun T like I do!

As always, I hope you enjoyed this week's topic. Let me know in the comments what you would like to see in the future! Until next time!

A Flicker of Light in the Darkness

Ten years ago today, something momentous happened. For a whole generation of women, life was changed when New Kids on the Block reunited after 14 years. For all of us, it was the rejuvenation of a dream, one in which some of us didn’t even know we had. We had moved on, grown up, started our lives as adults, but kept this band locked in our hearts, hoping that maybe one day they’d reunite, but not expecting it. After all, lightning doesn’t strike twice, does it? In this case, it does, and it sparked a journey that has been incredible. Now, I know there is a contingent of people that will read this and say, “New Kids on the Block? Really? You wanna talk about that washed up boyband?” Yes. Yes, I do. The reason is simple. These five guys from Boston played a huge role in my life.

Surely that can’t be, you’ll tell me. They’re just a band. Just a group of guys trying to recapture their youth. Just. Not to me. To explain what these guys mean to me, we have to go back ten years. I have to tell you about the girl I was, and how NKOTB sparked new life within that girl, helping her to become the woman she was meant to be. Sometimes what you consider “just” something, dismissing them, can be the thing that helps change someone else’s life.

Ten years ago, I was miserable. I was in a marriage that was falling apart around me. I was a recent college graduate that couldn’t find a job in her field (I never did, but that’s neither here nor there). In so many ways, I felt lost. Down trodden. Beaten. There was darkness in my life that was threatening to overtake me, and it was all around. Even though my best friend lived with my ex husband and me, I still felt isolated in many ways. I carried around this weight all the time. Wondering when he was going to snap. Would he scream at me today? Would he tell me that I didn’t love him well enough? Would he explain to me, spittle flying, how I simply wasn’t trying hard enough? Would he look me in the face and tell me that he knew I wished he would die? These were the secrets I kept locked inside myself. I prayed no one in my life knew how bad it really was. I lived in shame of what was going on in my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a wonderful family that’s extremely supportive. However, I didn’t want them to know how bad things were. I didn’t want them to hear the things that I was told, or the fact that after so many years, I believed them. I’d lost everything that was strong and happy about myself, but I told everyone in my life that I was fine. Is there any more dangerous word in a person’s arsenal than fine? I don’t think there is. Fine is almost always a lie. I was not fine. I was lost, and sad, and had been telling myself and everyone around me that I was fine for so long that I’d forgotten what happiness and light and joy actually were. In other words, I was sleepwalking through my life, just hoping to make it through the days.

Cut to early October of 2008. My marriage, only a year old, is crumbling to dust. I’m working part time at Ross with my best friend. I’m fighting a growing sense of malaise around me, and I don’t know what to do...and then there’s announcement on the radio. New Kids on the Block are going to be in Charlotte on October 30^th. I looked at my best friend and I said, “We have to go. We may never get the chance again.” The tickets would be my birthday present from my husband…and the last gift he ever gave me. They were nosebleeds, in the 300 level, but I didn’t care. I was going. I just wanted a break from everything going on around me, and a girl’s trip with my best friend. I wanted to get away. I never expected how that one pivotal moment would make me feel.

October 30^th came. Peaches (just kidding, her name’s Melissa. She said I could only use her name if I called her Peaches first) and I piled in her truck, and our first stop was to Walmart. We bought The Block, NKOTB’s new release, and put it in the CD player. For 3 ½ hours we listened to every single NKOTB song we could. We sang. Excitement built. It was a lark, a quick little girl’s trip to relive a little piece of our childhood. We checked into our hotel, got lost, made it to the arena. We walked in, and surprise! We’d been bumped down a whole level! Still far away from the main stage, but closer! We made our way to our seats, taking in the electric feeling in the air. To this day, I still remember the way I felt when the lights went out before they came on. I can still feel that first heart stopping wave of pure excitement, the way the opening video tickled along my skin. That moment of knowing “Holy crap, this is real. I am about to see these guys I've loved since I was five.” I can picture with perfect clarity the flashes of light, and feel the scream that ripped from my throat when they appeared on the stage, heads bowed, hands folded, in a triangular formation. It’s a perfect, crystalline memory. Even today, when I watch old videos from that tour online, I still smile and feel my heart expand in my chest. The moment I heard Joe’s voice ring out over the crowd singing “If you came here by yourself tonight” I knew. This one night was the start of something magical.

I won’t bore you with every detail of that show. The details don’t matter so much as the feelings that memory carries. In that arena, with my best friend at my side, I came alive again. I laughed. I cried. I sighed. I LIVED. All at once, every worry that had been plaguing me melted away as I watched the men on the stage. I held on to Melissa, and we sang along, screamed along with the rest of the audience. We let the magic and exhilaration of sharing this moment roll through us. When I walked out of the arena that night, I was changed. Somehow, in the last few hours, I’d remembered what fun was. Something had awakened inside of me.

That night made me realize how I’d buried myself. I’d become so used to censoring my thoughts and my feelings, telling myself and everyone around me that I was fine, that I’d anesthetized myself to how bitterly unhappy I really was. A few weeks later, Melissa and I went on a trip to Southport, and while waiting in line for the ferry, we spilled out our hearts to one another about the situation I was in. We cried, and for the first time in a long time, I admitted how unhappy and scared and lonely I was. How I was worried about letting my family down if I divorced my husband. How if I didn’t, the verbal abuse I suffered would one day escalate. She echoed my every worry, telling me that she feared if I didn’t get out soon, that one day he’d hurt me. I couldn’t disagree.  Opening up to Melissa was another step, one that I am not sure I would have been able to take without the concert in Charlotte. It had blown open the doors, allowing everything that I’d held so tight within me to break free, destroying the chains of my own making.

Within two months of the NKOTB concert, my husband and I had separated. Melissa and I moved into a one bedroom apartment, where we supported ourselves through our jobs at Ross. Times were hard as hell, with lots of ramen and mac and cheese, but at the same time, it was one of the best, most freeing times of my life. I had my best friend. I was on my own for the first time in years, learning to love myself again. I created a soundtrack to my life, filled with NKOTB, Hanson, Ne-Yo, and Jesse McCartney. To this day, those songs are the go-to’s for me when I’m having a bad day. They remind me of traffic jams, singing and dancing in the car with my best friend, or day trips to Southport. I started writing again, filling scraps of paper with scribbles as I worked the dressing room at Ross, writing stories at night after work. I met a great group of friends, enjoying myself in a way I never had before. It was the beginning of a new life.

In 2011, I married again, to my wonderful hubby. Our daughter was born in 2012. My life was settled, and happy. Still, being a stay at home mom hasn’t always been easy. In fact, there’s a whole blog to be written about that, but that’s for another day. I’ve struggled to find my place in this new life, and it’s been difficult, but through it all, I’ve had NKOTB. My happy place. Though my hubby doesn’t understand it, they are just an integral part of my life. I can be having the worst day, with tears and arguments or just sadness, and I can put on their music and feel better. I can watch a concert on youtube and laugh the pain away. Best of all, though, my love for NKOTB has introduced me to an incredible group of women that I consider some of my best friends. These women have supported me on some of the darkest days of my life. They are a gift in my life, and I never, ever would have met them without loving NKOTB. Funny how life works,  isn’t it?

It is because of these friends, and this band, that last year I had two of the most incredible experiences of my life. In July, I traveled alone to Boston to meet these friends in person, and to see NKOTB at Fenway, which is basically Mecca for a New Kids fan. Through this trip, I grew to love these friends even more. I made memories that will last a lifetime. I hugged these women, who had talked me through the deaths of my grandmother and my cousin, who had listen to me rant about the bad days, that had virtually held my hand through the hard times and laughed with me in the good times, and felt absolutely blessed. I stood in the pouring rain inside Fenway, heart filled to bursting, beside one of these friends as we shared a once in a lifetime experience. I walked my feet off through Salem, admiring the beauty and laughing until my sides hurt. And when I went home, tears filled my eyes for leaving them.  Three short months later, however, we were all reunited in New Orleans when we boarded the Carnival Triumph on the NKOTB cruise. I’ve already documented that journey a bit, but suffice to say that it was a trip I’ll forever treasure.

You see, at the heart of it, my love for New Kids on the Block is so deeply seated within me because of the experiences and the people that I have discovered through them. Without that one night in Charlotte, would I have had the courage to let go of a bad marriage when I did, or would I have stayed? I don’t know. I like to think that I would have let go eventually, that the strength was there within me, but I don’t know. I do know that without NKOTB I wouldn’t have met some of the coolest damn people on the planet. These women are a part of the fabric of my life now, and I can’t imagine my life without them. It is because of five men from Boston and an international group of friends that I have traveled to places I never saw myself going, and doing so alone even though it scared the hell out of me. I have found happiness, learned to treasure every moment, and discovered how to stand up and say what it is I need in life. NKOTB is my escape, my happy place, the source of bonding with friends. Most of all, they are a symbol of rebirth for me. For that alone, I will always be a Blockhead.

Donnie Wahlberg always tells BH’s not to thank him or NKOTB for getting them through a bad situation, because they did it themselves. While that’s true, I have to thank these guys, because while I did the heavy lifting, they were the key. They were that first spark, the eye opener, the thing that made me say, “this is how happy really feels.” Now, I know that Donnie, Danny, Jon, Jordan, and Joe will probably never, ever see this blog, and that’s okay. Yet, I have to say it anyway. Guys, thank you so much for reuniting. Thank you for the laughter, the love, the light in the darkness. Thank you for this INCREDIBLE journey, and I can only hope that it continues for a long, long time. Most of all, thank you for giving me the gift of realizing true happiness, and opening my mind and heart to a world of new possibilities.

Finally, I know some of you reading this will never understand why this band is so important to me. That’s okay. The truth of it is, though, we ALL have that one thing that just makes us happy. Whether it’s an artist, or a band, or a TV show, we all have something that just lifts us up and brings us joy. Whatever your thing is, I’m glad you have it. I would never begrudge anyone their joy. My hope is that you’ll remember that while someone’s favorite thing may not be what you’d choose, it is still theirs to love. Everyone has different struggles, different heartbreaks, and different things that make them happy. If it lights up your eyes, and brings a lift to your heart, treasure it, no matter what the world thinks. Life is far too short to not love what you love and find pleasure in it. Who knows? Maybe that thing you love so much will open up new worlds within you, just as NKOTB has done for me!

Living With Grief

I’ve had grief on my mind lately. The last couple of years, my family and I have become well versed in grief, suffering hard losses that have forever changed the landscape of our family. These losses have left irreparable holes, ones in which we are just barely beginning to weave new fabric around. Still, even as we mend, the scars will always remain. You cannot truly fix what has been shattered. Pieces will always be missing. All you can do is try to put things back as best you can, and glue the fissures and hope it holds. There are the days that you know are going to be hard—the holidays, birthdays, each and every first without the person you love---and you dread those, because you know it’s going to hurt. Yet, you expect it. You grow familiar with the ache of tears in your chest and in your throat, the sheen of moisture that obstructs your vision. It’s expected. What’s harder are those days you don’t expect, where you’re blindsided.

Grief is an insidious beast. You can be going along about your day, feeling fine and then out of the blue, there it is. It could be triggered by anything—a song, a smell, just the random trick of memory, and you’re right back in the thick of it. That’s the worst thing about grief...it’s not something you EVER get over. It’s always there, lurking in the background, forever coloring how you see the world. That doesn’t mean that you’re always sad, or that grief is always negative, either. It’s bittersweet. It’s like the scene in Inside Out, where Sadness touches the memories, tinging them blue. Those memories aren’t automatically absolutely sad, or unhappy. Instead, the perception is now changed. You may smile even as your heart aches, and that’s okay. In fact, that’s a good thing. Shouldn’t you smile when you think of the ones you love? Of course you should! Losing someone doesn’t mean that they are gone from your heart. On the contrary, the person is that much more special. You don’t get new moments with that person, so you have to preserve those precious times that you shared.

Still, grief is a struggle. Missing someone never gets any easier. Losing my grandmother in January of 2016, and then my cousin a year later was a double blow that I’m not sure I’ll ever fully recover from. In fact, I know I won’t. It’s impossible to, because they are no longer here. I can’t call them. I can’t see them in person. My daughter will only remember them from pictures, and the stories I tell her. I think of them every single day. Pictures are still tough for me, especially with my cousin. To look at his picture still physically hurts me. Sixteen is simply too young to lose your life, and it’s hard to think of the man he would have become. I still remember rocking him to sleep as a baby, singing to him. I lost a lot of that connection with him when I moved away to college, and I never quite got it back, and every day I carry that regret with me. I should have called him more. I should have told him I loved him more often. Now, that opportunity is forever gone. We always think we’ll have time...until we don’t. That sweet boy would have turned 18 on April 1, and I miss him so much. The light he brought into the world was so bright. On those days when the sadness or regret is too much, I talk to him. I tell him all the things that I never got to say while he was here. It helps some, but I’d give anything for one moment in time to get to say them to his face. I know he’d just smile that huge, trademark smile, and give me a hug, probably make a joke, because that’s who he was. See, guys, grief in motion right here. I’m smiling even as I cry, because I can so clearly picture it all. Bittersweet.

You know what I think the worst moments of grief are? Those moments when you forget, for that brief second, that your loved one is gone. Not that long ago, I was in the car with my husband and Scoot, just having a conversation and I said, “I need to go see my grandma and tell her…” I trailed off, shocked that the words had come from my mouth, and my husband looked at me as I shook my head, heart turning in my chest. Even now, two years later, I slip. I forget briefly that I can’t go see her. She isn’t there. That split second of forgetting costs deeply, because when reality comes back, it hits hard. The mind is a tricky beast, and sometimes, it plays awful tricks. Yet, all I could do from that moment was take a deep breath, let the hurt wash through me, and keep going. You see, I think grief is different not just from person to person, you grieve in different ways over different losses. For my cousin, that grief is still sharp and shocking a lot of the time. His death was such an overwhelming shock that it colors the grief I feel. With my grandmother, the edges have softened some, but then I’ve had longer to walk the path. It’s not easier, by any means, but I had more time to adjust to losing her, even before she was gone, and I think that made a difference. There’s more acceptance. Still, either way, it’s a weight that I carry within me, and sometimes it’s overwhelming.

Even though it’s tough, and I struggle from time to time, I can’t be upset that grief affects me. Grief is simply proof that you loved someone deeply, and that they impacted your life. There is no shame in that, at all, and you shouldn’t feel any. Instead, I would argue that you should embrace it. I don’t mean dwell in it, and set up shop there. That’s not healthy either. Instead, you should accept those moments of sadness, where the tears flow. Accept them. Take that moment, and acknowledge your pain, because you know what? It’s proof that you loved that person you’ve lost. It’s proof that that person mattered to you, and matters still. Even if that moment happens every day for a while, that’s okay. There’s no timeline to feeling pain over loss. Anyone that tells you otherwise is a liar.  You are free to feel and grieve however works for you, because guess what? It’s YOUR loss. It’s YOUR pain, and YOUR journey. Hiding from it doesn’t make it easier. In fact, honestly, nothing makes grief easier. It’s not something you get through, or over, or any of those other platitudes. Instead it’s something you work with, and grow from.

You’re always going to miss those you’ve lost. Always. Missing them, hurting over it, that doesn’t make you weak. If anything, the power to grieve and show the love we felt through tears and memories, and smiles, that is the greatest strength we as humans possess. It makes me angry when someone says, “Jill should be over this by now. It’s been a year.” Why? Why should Jill be over it? Jill has lost someone. Jill will always have to face each day without the person she loved. Her life is irrevocably changed, and you don’t “get over” that. No, you just keep living. You adapt. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t still a giant, aching, sometimes festering hole in Jill’s heart, or that that hole will ever, ever mend completely. It won’t. If you cut your arm badly enough, doesn’t it scar?  It’s the same way with your heart, so why some people expect you to go on living as though you don’t have that scar, I don’t know. Wear your scars proudly. Cry your tears proudly. Know that grief doesn’t have to be destructive, that it can also be healing. Everyone’s process is different, as special and unique as they are. You don’t ever have to conform to what anyone thinks your grief journey should be because, after all, no one else is you. They didn’t love your loved one in the same way that you did. In the end, there’s not much any of us can do about the grief we feel. We can’t make it go away, or take some magic pill to lessen it. Even if I could, I don’t think I would, because I think that would cheapen all that I feel and all that my loved ones have meant to me. 

There is beauty in sorrow. The sharpest edges of the pain after a loss do wear away, but there are always going to be jagged spots that never smooth. I’ve heard grief described as an ocean, and I think that’s apt. Like the ocean, it’s mysterious, sometimes dark and turbulent. There’s always more going on under the surface than one can see. There hare hidden depths, and surprising beauty. It is breathtaking, and strong, but somehow, sometimes, elegant and even playful. The waves of grief carve you in new, different ways, and you will become someone different after a loss. Your coastline will change, but that doesn’t mean it will be any less, or any worse. Instead, it will simply be different. All we can do is learn to walk this new coastline, appreciating if not the reason for the changes, then our ability to adapt to them. 

Spider bites and Reading Lists

Hello, and welcome back, friends! This week, I’m keeping it pretty light. The last couple of weeks have been crazy for me, health wise. Earlier this month, I was bitten by what I think was a spider, and that bite got infected. I developed cellulitis, and was placed on a strong round of antibiotics. Just when I start feeling better, and about a week into that treatment, I realized I was allergic to my antibiotic. I’m now three days into a six-day course of prednisone, so honestly, I’m sleep deprived, cranky, and my brain isn’t clicking as sharply as it could. That being said, I didn’t want to let a week go by without posting, so this week, I’m going to share with you five of my favorite books. It’s a fairly eclectic list, but I hope that you enjoy learning about a few of my favorite books, and why I love them so much! These are all stand-alone books, none from a series, because that’s a whole other kettle of fish. So, without further ado, let’s get into it!

Edit: I have included links to each book from Amazon. As a new blogger, and a stay at home mom, this is a way for me to support my family. If you are interested in any of these books, please click the links provided!

1. Poisonwood Bible --- Barbara Kingsolver

I read this book the first time when I was in college. I was sold from the very first lines of the book:

“Imagine a ruin so strange that it must never have happened. First, picture the forest. I want you to be its conscience, the eyes in the trees. The trees are columns of slick, brindled bark like muscular animals overgrown beyond all reason. Every space is filled with life: delicate, poisonous frogs war-painted like skeletons, clutched in copulation, secreting their precious eggs onto dripping leaves. Vines strangling their own kin in the everlasting wrestle for sunlight. The breathing of monkeys. A glide of snake belly on branch. A single-file army of ants biting a mammoth tree into uniform grains and hauling it down to the dark for their ravenous queen. And, in reply, a choir of seedlings arching their necks out of rotted stumps, sucking life out of death. The forest eats itself and lives forever.”

In these few lines, Kingsolver uses language to make this scene not only visual, but so real it feels as though you are physically in this space. You can hear that glide of the snake belly, the hum of insects, the incessant drip of water. Even though you haven’t yet encountered a human, you have met a main character already, and that is the Congo. So, what exactly is Poisonwood Bible about? Well, it’s the story of the Price family, and their mission trip to the Congo. The trip is ill advised, as the Congo is in the middle of political upheaval, but the patriarch of the Price family, Nathan, is spurned on to attempt to save the natives of the small village where the family is taken. It is the story of not only wider political factors, but the family’s own splintering dynamic. Orleanna Price, the matriarch of the family, is forced into a situation where she must do all she can to hold her family of four daughters together. Told from the perspective of the Price women (Orleanna, Rachel, Leah, Ada, and Ruth May), a full picture of a new way of life amid the colorful backdrop of the Belgian Congo is revealed. Along the way, there is heartbreaking struggle and loss, told from the vastly different voices of the Price women. Told over the span of decades, it is a strong narrative of how one event in life can set out spirals throughout the rest of one’s existence.

Don’t let the title fool you, it’s not simply a book about religion, but it does deal with religion in some sense. More, though, it is about family, the ties that bind and the vicious cycle of abuse, mental, physical and emotional. It’s about the scars left behind by tragedy as well, and it’s imminently relatable, especially when told by the voices of such different women. The entire book is incredibly visceral, and I felt it in the marrow of my bones. The book covers a range of human emotion, using elegant turn of phrase and beautiful language to capture you in the narrative. I have read this book numerous times, and every time I do, I discover something new. It’s truly a novel that keeps giving, with a depth and emotion that I’ve hardly seen matched.



2. Anne of Green Gables—L.M. Montgomery

This book is a classic for a reason. It’s one of the very first books that I remember reading and falling in love with. I identified with Anne with an E, a girl that escaped into stories, struggling to find herself in a place where she didn’t quite fit in. What I loved about the book was how bright Anne’s spirit was throughout the narrative. No matter what happened to her, she found strength and joy, never allowing a dismal, abusive past deter her from looking from the bright side of life. Anne found beauty in everything, and she was a kind, generous, passionate girl that grew into a strong woman.  At its core, it’s a story of perseverance. Anne, a young orphan, is adopted into the home of Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, an older brother and sister that live in Prince Edward Island, on a farm called, you guessed it, Green Gables. Hesitant at first, they grow to love the young with the indomitable spirit that has come to live with them.

If you’ve never had the opportunity to read this book, I’d highly recommend it. The language is beautiful, and LM Montgomery made me fall in love with Prince Edward Island. The way she describes the land makes the reader see it and feel it, and there is magic in that. I love watching Anne grow and prosper under Marilla and Mathew’s love, though they were very different in how they showed affection. Marilla is the structure and moral compass, sometimes a little harsh, but always for the right reasons. Matthew, shy and quiet, is the heart. He teaches Anne lessons about love and acceptance, showing never wavering approval of his Anne.

 I have read this book so many times since childhood, but the amazing thing is that even as an adult, this book holds up. It’s from a completely different era, but young children and adults alike can learn so much from Anne, and her approach to life. For instance, in this quote from the novel, you can see so clearly the arc of Anne’s character from a young 11 year old girl to a young lady grown and gone to college, quite a feat for a girl of her consequence in that era. ““There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting.”  I absolutely love this quote, because haven’t we all felt that there is more to us than just what the world sees? There are worlds in all of us, many untapped, and it was defining for me as a child to read that being a complex person is not only okay, it’s normal.




3. Where The Red Fern Grows—Wilson Rawls

Yet another childhood classic that ingrained in me the love of a good story. This book WILL crush your hurt, I warn you. If you’ve never read it, it’s the story of Billy Coleman, and his beloved dogs, Old Dan and Little Ann. More than just a sweet story about dogs, it’s a story about sacrifice and love. The reason this book resonates so strongly still is that message of what it means to work for what you want, and cherish it when you get it. It’s about a boy’s love for his dogs, yes, but it’s also about hard lessons of growing up, and losing pieces integral to yourself. It’s about how life has harsh, sometimes strange turns, but how they can also grow to be blessings as well. The language isn’t flowery, and the book is quite simple, but this is one of those books that thrives on simplicity.

Sometimes a quiet narrative is best, and Rawls delivers his best here. One of the first passages that I remember grabbing in the book was “It's strange indeed how memories can lie dormant in a man's mind for so many years. Yet those memories can be awakened and brought forth fresh and new, just by something you've seen, or something you've heard, or the sight of an old familiar face.” Told in a straightforward way, there is no need for bells and whistles to describe Billy’s love and devotion for his dogs, or how strongly they impacted his life. This was the first book that I read as a child that showed me that not all stories have happy endings, and that there could be not only sorrow, but hope in loss.



4. Carolina Moon—Nora Roberts

Yes, a Nora Roberts book. I admit it, I love her work. I think I’ve read almost every one of her books, and I’ve enjoyed them all immensely, but this particular novel is one of my favorites. It tells the story of Tory, a young woman that is haunted by the death of her childhood best friend, Hope Lavell. It’s set in South Carolina, and I do love a good book featuring the South. Tory has to overcome insecurities and inner demons, learning to harness her power of seeing visions in order to finally solve the mystery of who killed Hope. Why do I love this book? Strong female characters, a good romance, and a driven plot line that kept me invested in the book until the very last page.

“Like Hope, I felt the fear. Fresh hot gushes of it. When she ran, I ran, my breath sobbing out so that my chest hurt from it. I saw her fall under the weight of whatever leaped out at her. A shadow, a shape I couldn’t see clearly, though I could see her.
She called for me, Screamed for me.
Then I saw nothing but black. When I woke, the sun was up, and I was on the floor. And Hope was gone.”

In this short excerpt from the novel, you already feel terror, sadness, and hopelessness. I love the duality that Roberts uses here, with Hope, both the girl and the idea, dying. For Tory, they are one in the same. Tory’s whole life changes when she loses her Hope, and that is a theme that persists throughout the novel as she tries to find Hope again. That’s the main thing I love about this novel. I love the setting, the primitive, sweaty, mosquito buzzed feel of the south bouncing off the page. The imagery is fantastic, pulling you into the story, and then you are further anchored there by characters like Tory, and Faith, Hope’s identical twin sister. It covers a spectrum of emotions and is the perfect backdrop for the danger lurking just beneath the surface. Of all the Nora Robert’s books I own, I think I’ve read this one the most, to the point I need a new copy because the one I have is falling apart.



5. Small, Great Things--Jodi Picoult.

“Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.” By and large, this book can be summed up with this one quote. This is a fairly new release, but it hit me in the gut like a truck. It’s such a timely book, discussing the sticky ins and outs of racism in American culture. It’s the story of Ruth Jefferson, a labor/delivery nurse in a Connecticut hospital, and an interaction with a Neo Nazi couple and their child. A split second hesitation on Ruth’s part sets the path for a life changing struggle that will have Ruth facing a myriad of changes. The book is complex, filled with complicated ideas on race from the point of view of Ruth, an African American nurse, as well as the father of the infant that changes the course of the entire book. Lessons are learned, changes are made, but the narrative itself is heartbreaking.

The book left me unsettled, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, a book must come along and rattle your safe little world, and that’s exactly what happened with this one. It made me look into myself and question the way I myself see the world, and that’s rare these days in a novel. Picoult is a hit or miss author for me, but in this one she truly knocks it out of the park. It’s not the easiest book to read, but it isn’t supposed to be. It’s brutal, and honest, and at best, challenging, but sometimes, that is exactly what the best books are. Of all the books on this list, this is the only one I’ve read just once, but I would definitely read it again. It truly is a great, thought provoking read.



That’s all for this week. I hope you enjoyed learning a little about some of my favorite books. For me, books really are like old friends that I continue to revisit again and again. If you have any ideas or suggestions for what you’d like to see in the future, or any sort of comment, even a hello, to share, I’d love to hear it! Until next time, friends!

Moments

We each have moments in our lives that we want to remember forever. Big ones, small ones, the firsts in life, the lasts, these moments are the ones that make us who we are as individuals.  Whether it’s the first time you see your favorite band live, or a random Saturday morning conversation, these moments matter. Yet, more and more, we are seeing and experiencing these moments through our electronic devices. Think about it: these days when you go to a concert, what do you see? No longer are there lighters waving in the air, or glow sticks, but cell phones. People hold up tablets to film shows (and can we talk about how RUDE it is to hold up a huge screen and block people’s view of the show?) and bounce along with a beat. And yes, I’m just as guilty of whipping out my phone to record something for posterity, but I’ve also come to realize the sacred moments without the devices as well. Indeed, some of my most treasured moments have happened when there was no smartphone in my hand.

Listen, I am all for capturing special memories. You want to look back and have that image forever, right? I get it. What I have trouble with, however, is our seemingly incessant need to have EVERY moment recorded in pictures or on social media. Not every thought that passes through your brain should be shared. Not every moment has to be recorded. If you are constantly living your life through the filter of a phone screen, let me tell you, you aren’t living it. It’s passing you by as you try in vain to capture it. Instead, put that phone away. Watch the concert with your own eyes. Soak it in. That Saturday conversation with a friend? Be IN it. Absorb yourself in the conversation wholly. Take in that laughter, let it feed your soul in a way that it can’t do if you’re absorbed in whatever is happening on Facebook or Twitter.

Think of it like this: if you are in the middle of your dream coming true, do you want a smartphone blocking you from actually experiencing it? Of course not! You want to live in it! This idea that if there isn’t a picture, it didn’t happen is ridiculous. Moments can happen so quickly, without warning, and in order to truly soak them in, you have to be fully present. Remember when I said there was going to be some boyband content here? Here we go. Last year, I was fortunate enough to be able to go on the New Kids on the Block cruise. It had been a dream of mine for several years, and after long talks with my hubby, I was finally able to go. I shared the experience with my best friend, and a group of friends that I’ve been so lucky to meet over the years. While the entire experience was one that I’ll never forget, and amazing in so many ways, I’ll focus on one particular moment. On the cruise, you get a photo opportunity with the band. It is your one guaranteed chance to meet and interact with the group. Now, I am a lifelong Joey McIntyre girl. He was my first crush, ever since I was five or six. That is a LIFETIME of adoration, so the thought of meeting him face to face? Literally a dream come true for me.

The way these photo groups works is simple. There are two main groups, A and B, and each group has their pictures on a different day, so the lines aren’t so long and fans and band have time to relax between sessions. I was in Group A. There are 10 people per photo group and I was able to share this with a group of my very best friends. Many of them were past cruisers, so they walked me through, giving me advice. One thing I remembered clearly: “Don’t freeze. Talk to them.” I went into it thinking about what I would say, how I would say it, knowing that I would have only seconds with each group member. That all changed the moment I stepped into that long, long, winding line with my friends. We talked and laughed, and as the line inched closer and closer to the room the band was in, I felt my nerves kick up. My stomach jittered, and I could feel my friends looking at me and smiling seeing it happen for me for the first time. I clearly remember turning the corner and seeing them through the glass, feeling my heart stutter a bit. There they were. Suddenly, it was real.

Somehow, after that initial shock of seeing them, most of my nerves faded away. I don’t know why, and I wouldn’t dare try to explain it. Once I reached the door, personal belongings were taken and placed on a long table. No cell phones, no cameras, nothing but yourself is allowed on that stage with the band. You are forced to live in that moment, to come to terms with your nerves and your excitement and the reality that what you’ve dreamed of since you were a little girl is about to happen. Before I knew it, we were one group away from the stage and reality truly slapped me in the face. It. Was. Happening. Security reached a hand out, helping me up the short few steps, and there’s Danny Wood. I smiled at him, said hello, and hugged him. So far so good. Donnie Wahlberg was next in line, smiling so brightly. I hugged him, and then smiled up at him bravely and said, “I’m a cruise virgin.” Blockheads, as supporters of NKOTB are called, know that Donnie has a sort of alter ego called “DDub”, and DDub has his own way of speaking. Well, as soon as I spoke, the DDub came out. “Not anymore,” he practically purred back at me, and I gasped, hand rising to my throat. Yes, people, I swooned. He only smirked and rubbed my arm until my dumb legs remembered to move on to the next man in line, Jordan Knight.

My interaction with Jordan was brief, but I remember his smile, his careful hug. Sadly, my brain was still pretty fried from my Donnie interaction, but I still managed to chat with him until I reached Joe. And there he was, my lifelong crush. This was the moment I’d waited forever for. I smiled, said hello. He said, “Hi, how are you?” I hugged him, and said, “I’m f*cking awesome. This is my first cruise and it’s amazing.” He chuckled a little, and we turned, smiling for the camera, his fingers brushing over my shoulder. Two quick clicks from the camera and he turned back to me, smiling, dipping his head and looking me over. “I like your dress,” he told me, and with one last stuttered thank you I stumbled off, weak kneed and shaky. I had one big bone crushing hug from Jon Knight, stopped at the table and grabbed my things, and out the door I went to my friends. They gathered around me, chattering excitedly as I laid my head on a stair rail, needing a moment to steady myself. What else can you do when a dream literally comes true?

I later asked my friend who was beside me if it all happened the way I thought it did, and she assured me it did. It’s all so clear in my mind, every second of that brief interaction, from the words, to the sound of his voice, even the feel of his jacket. That memory is one that can never be taken away from me, or tarnished. Yes, there is a photo of it, but even better, because I was so in that moment, so engaged, it’s not something I’ll ever, ever be able to forget.

This is of course an extreme example of living in the moment, and I’m aware of that. However, it illustrates the point that sometimes, living is truly done in the moment. You have to experience the emotions of your life, from the highest highs to the lowest lows. Revel in your happiness, soak it in. When you’re sad, soak that in too. It’s okay to let yourself have a few moments of sadness, and even cry. Life, in all its many, varied facets, is meant to be experienced with a whole heart and soul, and not just fit into a tweet or Facebook status. And yes, take your pictures and enjoy those too. Just don’t let your life become about selfies and recording every second of your life. After all, if you’re depending on that phone to live your life for you, one day you’re going to look back and realize that your version of reality has been distorted by the fact you’re seeing it through a screen.

So the next time you’re having a “moment” big or small, put the phone away. Turn off that computer. Just treasure it. Feel the energy surrounding you, or the breeze kissing your cheeks, or the lick of heat from a bonfire, and absorb it. One day, these precious memories will be the stories you pass to your kids, and your grandkids. Make them count.

Treat Yourself

We’ve all seen the memes, the gifs, the pictures, telling us to “treat yo self.” And while it has become something of a fad here lately, I believe that taking care of yourself is imperative to a good life. It’s as the saying goes, “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” The problem is, most of us, especially the moms among us, do. We go and we go and we go, giving so much of ourselves that we begin to lose the very essence of who we are. Now, this isn’t to say that JUST moms, or JUST women go through this, because it’s simply not true. We ALL have times where we’ve given too much of ourselves, and it leaves us empty, cranky and wondering who the hell we are, and what we are doing with our lives. The truth is, we are living in a culture that tells us every day that we have to be perfect. We have to strive for the big house, the fancy car, to be the perfect parents, to have a big bank account, and to be all of these things. We’re bombarded with it every single day, and it wears us down.

Look, I get it. life gets busy. We have responsibilities that we have to tend to, whether we want to or not. Dinner has to be cooked, the kids have to be fed and bathed, and homework has to be done. Work doesn’t always get left at the office, and personal relationships need attention as well. Problems begin when we let these everyday stresses build up, until life has become nothing but a carbon copy of the day before, on an endless treadmill of routine. It’s colorless, lifeless, and soul sucking. It’s sad, isn’t it, in our quest for “perfect” that we let life speed by, never even taking the time to fully enjoy it? That’s why self-care is so imperative. We allow ourselves to become so overwhelmed that it makes us unhappy, and desensitized to it. Think about. You work. You do your job. You take care of the kids (or pets or parents or all of the above) and at the end of the night when you’re lying in bed, you’re already thinking of all the things you have to do tomorrow. All of these things weigh on your mind, your soul, your heart. After a while, all of that builds up, and causes more stress, sadness, and maybe even depression. You can only go so long caring for others without taking the time to care for yourself as well.

It seems like kismet, then, that yesterday as I was beginning this post, a particular song came on my Spotify list. It’s called Save Me, by Ed Sheeran, and for the first time I really stopped and listened to the lyrics.  It’s a song about giving all you have to those around you until you’re absolutely empty, and finally realizing that at some point you have to stop and learn how to save yourself. The chorus goes as follows:

Life can get you down so I just numb the way it feels
I drown it with a drink and out-of-date prescription pills
And all the ones that love me they just left me on the shelf
No farewell
So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself

Now, I’m not sure how licensing and all that goes, so before I go any further, know that I don’t own any of the rights to that song, or Mr. Sheeran, and I haven’t been paid to promote his songs. I’m just a fan, and happened to connect with this song. Isn’t amazing how sometimes the universe sends you something right when you need to hear it? I know how it feels to get bogged down in the needs of others, and just the toll of every day life. It’s an empty, lonely feeling, and it leaves you thinking that who you used to be is gone. That isn’t true. It’s a sign that it’s time for you to start listening to yourself and taking the time to say “I have to see me. I have to give myself some of the same attention I give to everyone else.”

No one wants to feel as though their needs and wants aren’t as important as those around you, but it happens. It is up to each of us to have the inner strength to say “I need a moment.” That moment can be anything. It can be painting your nails, or taking a hot bubble bath with a good book and a glass of wine. It can be fishing on a quiet lake. It can even be something more extravagant, like a girl’s (or guy’s) weekend. It’s about listening to your soul, and knowing what is going to charge your batteries. Only you can know when you need that break, so don’t be afraid to take it. You ARE worth it. It’s perfectly fine to put yourself first at times. Life is so short, and things can happen in the blink of an eye. Take the moments you need to fuel your heart and happiness. You’re not a bad parent if you tell your spouse he or she has the kids for the evening, and go out with friends. You’re not a bad son or daughter if you take a break from caring from a parent to go to the movies, or get a meal at your favorite restaurant. You’re not a bad spouse if you tell your significant other that you just need some “you’ time. If anything, taking care of yourself is going to make you a better parent/child/spouse.

Doing things that make you truly happy, refilling that cup of yours is going to give you strength. It’s going to bolster you on those days when you feel like crying or rocking in the corner. Most of all, it will give you the power to say “I am important, and I do deserve to be happy.” Own your happiness. Own your moments. They are yours alone, and no one can take them from you.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this week’s topic. Let me know in the comments what your go to is to fill your cup, or to self-care. I’d also love to hear what you’d like to see here, or what topics interest you. Like I’ve said before, we’re all in this together. Until next time, friends!