The Brilliance of Resilience

One of the support groups that I belong to allows for people to just kind of post free-form comments  that are highlight moderated by the people that have volunteered to keep the group a safe space. I appreciate that there is freedoms to express (and some people do...too often and with reckless abandon...let's be honest), but to be safe with each other and not cast the shadow of judgement. I mean...cast all you want, I guess. We all do. But don't go castin' it in this space. Someone wrote today, "This isn't a political discussion, but do you feel like this election is triggering you?" I thought that that was a very interesting thing to think about. That aside from the political beliefs that you hold, the candidates, the coverage, the ads, the rhetoric...is it triggering? Only women responded about being sexual abuse survivors, or having domineering and abusive fathers with narcissistic behavioral patterns. They responded with how they cope and how they feel.

Anybody that tells me that August does nothing but completely fucking blow...is a goddamned liar. It's hot, it's sweaty and there are no holidays. Alright, it's birthstone is Peridot, and that's pretty cool. I'll give you that...but that's it. The last six weeks have been hell. I feel terrible. I feel like I look terrible and I am struggling to understand the trajectory of my life. Although I have strategically and tirelessly worked to make my financial situation better, and I have created a plan to freedom, the pivotal and redemptive moment where I bust through the tape and cross the finish line is a long way off. Like, for real. I thought, for sure, that I would find solace in Labor Day: the unofficial end to summer, the end of August and the beginning of all things orange, yellow, brown and pumpkin spice. But, the burden of August has become the burden of September, too. Every week in therapy I have expressed that I am sad, I am crying, I am irrationa

I don't have any kids and I don't plan on having any. It just wasn't something that ever happened, and now, in my life, I am not at a point where I see myself giving up my freedom and independence to raise a child. It's cool that some people love it. And sometimes, kids are cool and I am glad that they exist. But, it's not for me. Or my five-year plan out of monetary imprisonment. One thing that I noticed is that having children makes things really complicated, and can put you in a position where when things go south with someone, the relationship inevitably solders you to a person that you would otherwise abandon for the rest of eternity. It solders you and your family that feel love for that child. And there are amazing people that truly say "bygones," and they co-parent with a zest for a good life for that kid. And then...there are the rest of us. My mother kept pressing me to contact my ex-husband for a day where she could see my ex-husband's d

I own 1/10th of the clothing that I used to, easily. I have a good friend that I glean minimalism/Kon Mari advice from, as well as a keen sense of how overwhelmed I felt when I owned a billion pieces of clothing that I sort-of liked. Aside from that, I also have lost a lot of sizes in the last seven months, so buying and rebuying seems absolutely insane. When I consciously decide not to continue the cycle, I consciously rewire my brain to give myself permission for better behavior. Whether you subscribe to Joe Dispenza's science or not, breaking the cycle of bad behavior is beneficial in ways that cannot really even be measured, because you are re-wiring your brain for more/better/different. The screenshot from Facebook makes me feel ashamed. And honestly, that was AFTER a purge. And it was almost two years ago: before weight loss, before separation, before admitting that I had an addiction and needed to approach food with recovery language...before change. Sometimes, eve

I did 2348909384 things this weekend. Notable highlights on the resume of the last three days: -Seeing a strolling accordion player and company wander through the streets of Irwin, PA. -Watching an elderly woman in a rhinestone denim baseball hat walk up to the accordion player, and dance around when they played. -Eating the best cabbage roll ever made by the hands of women from a church in Rankin, PA. -Walking through a few antique and vintage shops pawing all of the wares and thinking about the people that owned them, what their houses might have looked like, what they felt when they owned these things, and what they're doing now.  -Standing in Unity Cemetery and seeing Fred Rogers' final resting place...under a pine tree with a beautiful view of the valley and rolling hills. -Buying a fifty-cent plaque with, "Desiderata," written in yellow letters. From 1952. -Happening upon the dedication of a statue of Fred Rogers in a park in Latrobe, PA. And

In the last few months, I have been faced with multiple instances where the archetype of rising above your circumstances and creating a great life despite your challenges has been presented and championed as the archetype that we should all emulate when the whole world seems against you. That, in fact, anything less than complete victory in the face of undaunted adversity is considered to be a complete failure of a lazy and incompetent soul. It's dramatic language, but so is the story of the underdog. I wrote previously about that appointment with my nice doctor and how he asked me about why and how I do the things that I do. I think that I am so genuinely shocked that someone besides my therapist would be interested in what goes in my head and life that I latched onto that and probably said way more than I anticipated. It's as if he was the old and wise senior and I was the stunted and repressed freshman that completely lost my mind that someone so "cool," would wa

I wanted to write more about losing weight. I started another post about seeing the doctor and what happened that day, but I found that the thoughts were confusing and overwhelming at the time. They overwhelm me now, but in a more structured way, I think. I got a call from the Bariatric surgery center that I started going to in December. They said they hadn't seen me at the weigh-ins/meetings in a few months and wanted to know if I was still considering surgery. I should back up. In order to be considered for Bariatric surgery by most insurance companies, you must complete six months of a "lifestyle," program that allows you to start to put better habits into motion and hit the ground running after the actual surgery is complete while losing weight pre-surgery to provide less risk for the procedure. It's a rigorous process that includes lots of testing, psych evals, etc. I have a lot of opinions about the lack of psychological testing for Bariatric surgery, but anot

When people find out about the things that have happened in my past or the struggles that I have had with mental illness, I often hear that I am a strong person. These are compliments. Sort of. When those around me believe I am strong, I think, there is a subconscious level of permission that they give themselves to not worry about my emotional state when they do and say things. That if I outwardly emoted all that was within, they would feel compelled to be kinder, more sensitive people that thought through the words and actions that they chose when it involved me. Or, they would avoid me all together because my emotions would make them uncomfortable. This is the ultimate paradox that is only amplified when you are in an abusive situation or scenarios that cause consistent emotional pain.  I had a situation at work a few weeks ago where I was bullied after bringing a comment to light that I felt was inappropriate or something of note. My character was called out for bringing it

One of the best worst parts about The Simpsons is their clip shows. While they poke fun at the way that they just throw together half a plot with a bunch of their best stuff, we all know that it's the proverbial bye week of Sunday night animation. I haven't committed to watching an episode of The Simpsons for a few years, so if I caught a clip show, I would be hard pressed to understand the references. The good news about The Simpsons is that they are pretty good at being funny in context and out of context. I hope that my life is like that because it's been three weeks since I've written anything and I've got some feels to catch up with my zero followers. I've been trying to shy away from Facebook. I deleted the app, but I still check the mobile site a bit, but with decreased functionality. I make a few posts here and there, but not with the sass and voraciousness that I used to...for a few reasons. First, the "On this day," function seriously messe

This is Monday of the fourth week of the headache. If I write a memoir, this chapter will be entitled something Gothy like, "The Headfog Swallow." This almost incessant pain has thrown me into a completely different kind of desperation thinking that maybe, somehow, the tumor that has gone unnoticed by medical science has blossomed into a physical manifestation, rather than just an emotional one, and finally, the lifetime of unidentifiable weirdness that I've felt will be explained through an actual growth that has pressed on the part of my brain that triggers completely irrational depression and anxiety. If it is, at least I'll get to see what it is like to be bald. I don't think that I have the head for it, personally. I was talking with my therapist about kids and about my being a kid. I often do this, because children mystify me. I was talking about being five years old and not actually being five years old. About always being hyper-aware of everything around

I have a very dear friend that is going through some shit. Yes, we all go through shit, and we all handle it in different ways, but his shit is serious. He's doing better than I would in his situation, and I think that one of the keys to his success (even if he would never call what he does successful) is to be very open about pride, shame, narcissism, sadness...the whole gamut of emotions that you feel when you're dealing with SHIT. He manifests this into lists that are posted via Facebook a couple of times a week. I've bought into gratitude lists for a while now and try to make them as often as possible. I once downloaded an app that would allow you to record three things that you were grateful for by day and then would save them for review. It saved paper, but much like my tangible journals...and this blog, regular entries weren't exactly easy. So, taking a page in the "Book of E!" I am trying my hand at shame and gratitude. Shame (I had to start this and

Facebook as a way of making you feel things that you aren't ready to feel. Whether it's jealousy for someone's new job or complete pity at the idiocy of that random classmate you sort-of knew in high school and they "friended" you and you're wondering why. It's so weird to feel this close to people that you barely even know at all. Facebook also has the, "On This Day," function that will allow you to see things that you've posted in years past. Today, I found a piece of writing that I had done seven years ago. First, I was completely floored at how good it was. That seems totally ridiculous to say, but I am really getting to the point in my life where I am totally stoked with how good I am at some things. It is totally beyond most people's paradigm to feel that way, and it always seems like the people that have embraced this mindset have a really minuscule amount of talent to be so excited about (Hello Kayne West!), but I have to say, b

I am pretty unabashedly a Red Dwarf fan. I know, NERD. ALERT. In a particularly great episode, the post pod finally catches up with Red Dwarf, three million years late, and Rimmer, Lister and The Cat are excited to see what's inside. Rimmer gets a letter from his mother telling him that his father is dead. Later, Rimmer waxes poetic on the idea that everyone that they've ever known is dead, but receiving the letter makes it feel like it happened just then. He goes on to talk about what an utter bastard his father was in so many ways, but how he sought his approval...anyway. I think that almost everyone can relate to having a complicated relationship with their parents, even if their parents are not actively in their lives. I don't think about my biological father a lot. It doesn't really serve me to do so, and it has become increasingly clear to me as I age that there are plenty of people that have children that have zero business doing so. It also has become even c

I am in the middle of trying to finish up the business end of my marriage. Switching accounts that are in my name, dealing with the joint bank account, etc. That stuff that I avoided for a year. My ex-husband and I were texting with what we had accomplished in splitting these things and he said, "I am really sorry for all of this." I know he is sorry. I appreciate that he is sorry. I do not forgive him. For some reason, I thought that it was a good idea to make a hair appointment for 7pm on a Tuesday. I went to the restaurant up the block from the salon and ate a salad that comprised mostly of kale. I hate kale. I didn't read the description, and when the massive mound of garnish came out to me, I recoiled in horror on the inside, and then suited up to take the punishment for not paying attention and making a poor decision. I ate the whole damn salad and mustered up enough courage to feel good about the health benefits of this green. Still though, I'm not eating k

I was in the middle of writing a post about the Foo Fighters when I found out that Andy had died last week. Andy's son posted a brief message on Facebook and everyone that has posted about Andy since  then understands exactly what happened. When someone dies in a way that isn't easy to understand, a lot of words aren't going to clarify and the platitudes aren't going to heal. Andy was troubled and treating, but sometimes it is just not enough. Andy left that grown son as well as three school-aged children and their lives are irrevocably changed in a way that none of us will anticipate: whether it is peace in knowing that their mother is not suffering or the agony of knowing that their existence was not enough for Andy to keep fighting...or perhaps both. Andy and I knew each other through email only, but we shared stories about our lives. We shared music and what we did that day, and the struggle that she had just to exist came through in her words. Sometimes, I compar

I've broken the thirty pound mark for weight loss since my reboot of my cognizance of the fact that I need to do something about myself. When I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office this past Autumn, I was the heaviest I had ever been. Like, the number that I never thought would be on the scale. Like, the pivotal number that I yell at people on television about when they're six-hundred pounds in a pre-gastric bypass video and they're crying about being enabled and helpless as someone bathes them. When I read the scale, I was literally shocked. I knew I had gained weight in the last year, and I knew that I had soothed with food after a pretty shit year, but that number is literally burned into my brain as the place where I knew that if I didn't do something that I would be six-hundred pounds crying about my helplessness and my enablers. So, November 2 was the pivotal moment that I got it together and started really thinking about how I wanted to spend the next

I am incredibly disappointed in myself for not writing a letter in this blog since June of last year. Admittedly, I was on some kind of metaphysical high from all of the changes that had gone on in my life, and I was absolutely delirious with the possibilities that awaited me after a marriage-ending, a retreat back to my childhood home and a realization about the fact that I was genuinely starting over. From June through the present, I've gotten a little less dreamy about what is going on in my life, and a little more understanding about the fact that people can, in fact, be infatuated with the idea of reinventing themselves in every conceivable way. That "Eat, Pray, Love" woman forgot to mention that you still need to make your car payment, hand wash your bras and figure out how to get through the holidays without drinking and eating yourself into oblivion. The truth is is that I am still reeling from the way that my marriage ended. I am at fault for not handling this