Heated

What do you complain about the most?

I don’t really think of myself as a “complainer.”

I’m the type of gal to try to make the most of any situation. I say I “go with the flow” though my therapist might call it “conflict avoidant” haha. But I truly don’t have much to complain about in life.

However, one thing chaps my ass so much I’ll actually speak up about it:

If you say you’re going to do something, DO IT.

Nothing irritates me more than a flaky person. The old folks called it “sometimey.” You say one thing, then do another. Behaving this way is a guaranteed method to get my attention (and not in a positive way).

Perhaps I feel this way because I try really hard to keep my commitments. My mother DID NOT PLAY about keeping commitments! Anytime I wanted to sign up for a new activity or team, she would always say, “If you agree to this, you see it through the whole season/year/production/whatever. You don’t have to do it ever again after that, but people are depending on you. If you make this commitment, you keep it.”

So you can imagine how, after a lifetime of keeping commitments, it irks me when others don’t do the same. To me, my word is everything. So if you tell me you’ll do something, I will believe you until you show me otherwise. Therefore…

If you can no longer do a thing, SAY SOMETHING.

I know life happens. Sometimes things don’t go as planned. So if I can’t keep a commitment, I’ll let you know as far in advance as I can (and expect you to do the same). Don’t have people out here counting on you and then just leave them hanging—that is disrespectful and rude.

So be honest. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Keep the promises you do make. Let folks know if situations change.

Then maybe we’ll all have a bit less to complain about!

Tangled Up in Me

Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

Since I was a child, I’ve always had a lot of “stuff.” School papers, books, knickknacks, stuffed animals—if I received it, I kept it. To this day, my mother expresses amazement at the system of organized chaos I maintained. Yes, my room was a mess, but that mess was cataloged (and if you messed with my mess I would definitely notice).

As an adult, I’m still inclined to keep things but to a significantly smaller extent. These days I hang onto sentimental stuff: cards, photos, ticket stubs, items that are typically smaller and easier to store. I actually competed a project last month to reorganized all my mementos; they are now separated by phase of life, tucked away in labeled bins for easy reference in the future. (How very Virgo of me, spending my hard earned vacation time on home organization projects haha.)

Nowadays, the mental clutter requires more attention than the physical. I struggle so hard with letting memories go…especially when they hurt. The rejections, the embarrassments, the dismissals, the failures, the missed opportunities—all of them live rent-free in my brain and they love making their presence known.

I understand our brains do lots of wild stuff because of evolution; they are hard wired to protect us from danger and memory is part of that. But what I don’t understand is why I can’t purge some of this mental clutter. Why I hold onto it, pull it off the shelf, and examine it so often (even when I’d rather be thinking about pretty much anything else.)

It reminds me of a song:

I’m real good at forgiving

But my heart can’t forget

The ache before the mend

Kelly Clarkson, skip this part

I’m pretty good at moving on, but for some reason my brain just refuses to let go of all the hurt.

Maybe this is all for some higher purpose I haven’t realized yet. Or maybe it’s my depression and anxiety playing tricks on me (as they are known to do). Either way, I’d love to clear out some of these old hurts and make room for more positive thoughts.

I Hate U, I Love U

Today depression took my heart in its claws and squeezed so hard the tears couldn’t help but fall.

Today I live in my head, repeating a litany of past mistakes and failures. Embarrassments and disappointments.

Depression purrs, “I love this song,” and cranks the volume up. Belts the chorus like velvet wrapped in barbed wire:

“You’re boring and stupid,

So ugly and useless.

Deep down inside you know it’s true,

And everyone else knows it too.”

Today I think a little too much. Speak a little less often.

(don’tletthemsee)

Laugh a little too loud. Smile a little too hard.

(don’tletthemseehowmuchithurts)

Today is a day I just need to get through.

Tomorrow will be better.

Depression coos with a sly smile, “We’ll see.”

skip this part

Can I skip this part
When I fall to pieces
Back here at start
Need a time machine then

If I could escape all this hurt and this pain, oh, I would
What it’s gonna take to get me through this break is no good

Kelly Clarkson, ‘skip this part’

I know I’m guilty of pushing my feelings aside for convenience, self-preservation, and to protect other people’s feelings. Those so-called “bad” feelings—anger, disappointment, frustration—I’m the queen of holding that ish in. For some many reasons, I’ve convinced myself that these very natural feelings should be hidden away. Other people can feel that way, but not me. Can’t let people know when they hurt you—that’s weakness! Never show people you’re upset—don’t wanna be a buzzkill!

But even the “good” feelings are carefully sequestered; joy, passion, and enthusiasm are carefully meted. Phrases like “a crime of passion” always freaked me out because the emotion takes over. I never want to lose control of myself, even for “good” reason. Not only that, if I allow myself to fully experience those emotions then I’ll open myself up to disappointment. Don’t get too happy because you’ll feel that tumble and crash into sadness even more. Don’t get too excited because then it will hurt twice as much when someone (especially someone you love) lets you down.

But today and from now on, I allow myself to feel.

I am so sick of putting myself into a box because it’s easier than living outside of it. I am wasting one of the most beautiful human experiences—feeling and emotion—because I’m worried about how other people will react. I will always consider and respect the feelings of others, and I try to never shame anyone for feeling a way. So I’m going to apply that sentiment to myself from now on.

Do you allow yourself to feel? How do you express your feelings in a healthy, non-destructive way that still respects the feelings of others?

Think Twice

Today my affirmation was, “I will make good choices today.” Not easy choices. Or convenient ones. Good choices.

And it was HARD.

Lately I’ve come to admit that the way I moved through life in the past doesn’t serve me as much anymore. The perfectionism, the self doubt, the use of fear and criticism as motivators—they helped me survive. They were my rock and slingshot, meager tools for slaying giants but effective nonetheless. For a very long time, they felt like the only tools I had.

But now, I choose differently.

I choose to let go of what I can’t change. I choose to believe in myself. I choose to stop punishing for being human. I choose to treat my body with kindness. I choose to speak to myself gently and with encouragement.

I owe it to the version of myself who thought there was no other way.

Meaning of Life

What would you do if you lost all your possessions?

Before I share my perspective, I want to acknowledge how privileged I am to have never experienced losing all my possessions. I’ve never known life without clothes on my back, food in my belly, and a place to lay my head and store my belongings. My heart aches for anyone who has ever lost all they owned.

But when I stop to think about what it would be like to lose all my possessions, my mind whispers

free

I admit I am a bit of a pack rat and I hold onto many things that should have been donated or trashed long ago. Just yesterday, I went through my closets and came out with two large bags full of gently used clothes for donation, much of which hadn’t been worn in at least a year.

It sounds so liberating, getting rid of it all. No “I might need this” or “someday I’ll use that”—just starting over with nothing to hold me back. A clean slate.

But all means ALL, doesn’t it?

The wooden figure bought in Bali the day I knew my husband was “the one.”

The birthday cards from my mother through the years, with words of love in her perfect cursive.

The UK memorabilia my daddy collected.

The American flag that laid across his casket.

I would put on a brave face, for sure. But underneath the stoicism and the “things are just things” attitude I would be

devastated

Eventually, I would move on. Time would dull the pain of losing. I’d gather more things.

And hopefully, freedom would come with the understanding that possessions spark memories, and memories can last forever even without the physical token.

So I’ll value my possessions and treat them with care while I have them…

…because I know there may come a day when memories are all that’s left.

This Time

Oh. My. Goodness. …Am I actually getting my shit together?!?

Short answer: Yes. (FINALLY.)

I know it’s been awhile but I’ve decided to give this blogging thing a try. Again. For the umpteenth time. After OVER A YEAR of crickets on the blog.

It isn’t like I haven’t thought about it, though. I’ve often tried to drum up the inspiration, the energy to write. But it didn’t feel right until now.

You know, one of the reasons I’ve avoided writing here is because this blog chronicles some of the lowest points of my life. Reading the entries reminds me of how broken, how lost and afraid I was. The wounds may have healed a bit over time, but the memories of their infliction never faded.

My goal now is to rediscover my love of writing, explore all the things I’m learning about myself on my journey through therapy, and HEAL. (Not necessarily in that order.)

If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll help some of y’all who are healing too.

Life is full of twists and turns, a road ever winding with deep curves ahead. Some times we find ourselves at dead ends. Other times the path is leisurely, not a pothole or speed bump in sight. The only thing we know for sure is that there is no GPS and we can’t refill our tanks when our fuel finally runs out.

So let’s take this journey.

Let’s hop into the driver’s seat of our lives.

Spark the ignition of hope.

Check the rear view mirror to remember where we came from.

Turn toward the path of growth, peace, joy.

…and hit the gas.

She Will Be Loved

When I was a child, I learned not to make mistakes.

Now, perfectionism is a pretty complex concept. By no means am I saying i fully grasped it; my four-year-old brain didn’t quite understand what it was learning. All I knew was, “If I do things just right, grown-ups will be happy.”

Unfortunately, that’s a lesson I can’t quite shake.

I always thought perfectionism was a good thing, a motivator to make me bring my best self and do my best work. But perfectionism has a cost. If I make a mistake–if I don’t get it right on the first try every time–the criticism starts, and it doesn’t let up.

My therapist and I talked about inner-child work recently. (Apparently shit that happened to you as a kid can fuck you up as an adult–surprise, surprise.) Yesterday she asked me to find a picture of me as a child and imagine the picture was real, that I was talking to my four-year-old self. How would I respond to her if she told me she felt like she wasn’t good enough?

Would I reinforce her doubts, break her heart further?

Or would I wipe her tears, pull her into my arms, and tell her she’s spectacular–just as she is?

I’ve gone with the former for most of my life, mistakenly believing shame and criticism were effective motivators. Effective in the short term? Absolutely. But the long term damage isn’t worth it.

And four-year-old me deserves the support she didn’t feel she had.

Music of My Heart: Pt. 2

Another day, another influential album.  🙂

Second on the list is…

breakaway

Album:  Breakaway
Artist:  Kelly Clarkson
Released:  2004

Anybody else reallyyyyyyyy into American Idol back in the day?  I know I was a huge fan of the ORIGINAL series (I’ve got opinions on the recent revival of the show–that’s for another post) that brought us the legend known as Kelly Clarkson.

I must admit, I wasn’t even rooting for Kelly to win the inaugural season of AI.  I was a teenage girl back then, which meant I was squarely on #TeamJustinGuarini.  (What can I say?  He was cute, and I had raging teen girl hormones controlling my thoughts.)  But Kelly definitely deserved to win.  Homegurl can SANG.  I enjoyed her debut album (Thankful) that came out as a result of her winning the show.

But her sophomore album Breakaway…that album was special.  It was the soundtrack for my high school years, even though it didn’t come out until I was a senior.

For a long time, I didn’t know that the feelings of desolation I had were actually signs of depression.  Breakaway helped me get through the pain I experienced (especially breaking up with my first boyfriend).  One song in particular called “Hear Me” was my heartsong.  I felt like I was in a crowd, screaming for help, and no one noticed.

Hear me
I’m cryin’ out
I’m ready now
Turn my world upside down
Find me
I’m lost inside the crowd
It’s getting loud
I need you to see
I’m screaming for you to please
Hear me

(If you haven’t checked our Part 1 of this series, please do!)

Snowy Days

Winter in Wisconsin is in full swing, y’all. And ya girl is NOT FEELING IT.

Something Everything about the blistering cold, the gray skies, and the seemingly unending snowfall just makes me depressed. Being cooped up inside doesn’t help my anxiety either. The days are so short it feels like you never see the sun. The wind chill is so cold that it burns your skin. Now how much sense does that make–weather so cold it feels hot?!?

We got four inches of snow on Saturday, and another inch on Monday. More snow is predicted for tonight, and even more next week. My snow shovel and I have been best friends the past couple of days. #truestory I shoveled my driveway as my cardio warmup before my personal training session on Monday. There’s a silver lining to this cloud after all! 🙂

But, in all honestly, I know this rough patch won’t last. Where there is cold, eventually there will be warmth. Gray skies will be blue again. And summer will be here and make me forget all about these snowy days. Here is a snapshot from a hike at Devil’s Lake last summer–I cannot wait until I see green trees and feel the warm sun again!