Work In Progress

It has been 18 months since my foundation gave way and I came crashing down, admitted to the Adult Mental Health Ward and started this soul work; this journey toward self a.k.a. "thehardestworkIhaveeverhadtodo.   It's still hard. Every day.   Following the masculine power model; I was pretty sure if I just set out a few goals, created a plan and checklist of things to complete I would be able to get back to juggling the forty seven things I always tried to do perfectly with no help, while swallowing managing my asthma, IBS, ear infections, two kids and  my anger at how inept most other people were. It felt a bit like a recipe: Start with a big dose of therapy Sprinkle liberally with medication  Dump in two, eight week courses of group therapy  Pour all into "ME" and bake until done. Problem is, there is no "done". Right now the work rehabilitation guy and I are playing phone tag.  He e-mails, I c...

 Like many of the things Brene Brown talks about in The Gifts of Imperfection, Authenticity is not something you have or don't have, it is something you have the potential for, it just takes practice. So those people who practice it daily have become really good at being honest, showing up and "letting their true self be seen". The fact that many of the concepts she talks about--perfectionism, courage, compassion etc. are all choices makes me feel hopeful. I can have or be any of these things.  But it is also daunting.  It means I have to practice. Some of it may feel familiar, like riding a bike, I just need to get on a pedal a bit and I have it, but other parts are going to be like handing me a baton again.  Yes, I took baton lessons when I was about 8 --but I am surely going to clunk myself in the head a lot before I can get the damn thing spinning around properly.  And with anything that is hard, or hurts, who wants to try that each and every day...

Eighteen years ago today my life changed forever.  At 7:11 AM  I held in my arms a wee, pink, bundle with peach fuzz hair and ten little fingers and ten little toes.  I was oblivious to the intern doing my stitches (until he asked the resident if they looked ok...that caught my attention for a second----yes please, do they LOOK OK!!!!) as I stroked his lips, his ears, his cheeks, his feet. I was in awe that this 7 lbs wonder had only minutes before been living safely inside me and was now out here in the big wide world and it was just the two of us.  My marriage had dissolved when I was four months pregnant and my life purpose crystalized when my doctor asked me if I was feeling like I might hurt myself or someone else as I sat crying in her office after my husband left.  The tears dried up immediately. I was having a baby. THAT child and I were priority number one...I dismissed her as absurd. I had never felt stronger...

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Part of what sent me to the hospital back in November was this intense nerve pain that radiated from the back of my thighs, up my buttocks and lower back.  Sometimes it moved to my shoulders and back of my arms depending on how I sat and what part of me was touching any kind of surface.  When I had to describe it to anyone all I could liken it to was shingles, because I have had that.  And for those who haven't---just imaging you have gotten one of the worst sun burns of your life---and someone is rubbing your skin from the inside with sand paper.  Sitting is excruciating and as the day goes on, impossible.  You clench your teeth until your jaw aches, and the pain consumes every thought so that you are irritable and impatient with everyone.  Tasks seem overwhelming and impossible and you inability to do normal things like look after your kids, fold laundry and drive the car (because you can't sit for more than a few moments) start a tidal wave of ...

I think if I were observed a year ago for a week, it would be common to see my juggling two or more books with three or more in the wings. My tastes are simple, but specific: I like books with vampires (I prefer the non-sparkly ones), werewolves, demons, ghosts, angels or witches--sampling some historic time periods--with clever banter and light romance -- (imagine how thrilled I was to find Jim Butcher's Dreseden Files series and Deborah Harkness' Discover of Witches --all my guilty pleasures rolled into each series).  But suddenly, I cannot read.  I have 2 novels, supine on my bedside table...a thin layer of dust dulls the vivid covers.  Each time I see them I feel guilty--and confused. The last time I wrestled with depression (and it really does feel like that--a wrestling match.  Sometimes you are on top and strong, other times the heavy weight holds you down and you can barely breathe)  reading was ...

I have discovered that I care more about what people think of me than I thought. This comes as a bit of a surprise.   Not often enough, I get together with two women I have known since childhood.  As it often does in situations like this, we reminisce and inevitably the conversation winds its way around to why we did what we did when we were younger and someone alwayts says to me, "You never cared what anyone thought!  I wish I was more like that!  When we were little, we would come to your house and ask you to come out to play and you would say, 'nah, I don't feel like it' and close the door!"    Though now, I am wondering if other people would say ?  I will take an unofficial poll and see what I find out.    When I announced to the same two women I had discovered I was a perfectionist during my therapy--they looked at each other and burst out laughing. I have still not told anyone I ...

 When I set my mind to achieving something, I have almost always succeeded.  At my core, I believe that it is just a matter of knowing what the expectation is and working hard. So it is only natural that I would apply this same philosophy my recovery.   Me at home : How can I be this sick after all this bed rest? What is going ON with my breathing and where is this pain coming from? I can't afford to be away from work --there is so much going on and these e-mails just keep coming so it is good I am answering them from home.  The laundry is piling up and there is no milk and geeze the toilet needs a good scrub.  I didn't get the muffins made and I didn't take those items to the donation box and I was going to clean out the fridge and pantry today --OMG I am such a loser! I can't do anything right even when I have all day?  I can't even GET BETTER. I feel like I would rather just pack it all in..what's the use anyway.....

After the soil was removed from one side of the Tower's foundation, it was sturdy enough to support the seven bells--the weight could now be managed  comfortably.   The support lines were carefully removed, townspeople could safely return to their homes in the Tower's shadow without fear  and  tourists returned to climb the almost 300 stairs to the top to take in the gorgeous view after the 12 year closure. With the Tower stable, restoration efforts shifted to the façade where lasers, chisels and syringes were employed to clean the 24,424 blocks of marble and limestone.  Constructed only 12km from the Mediterranean Sea, the tower is at the mercy of storms coming off the coast and has had to battle both human and pigeon damage! I couldn't think of a better image to represent my journey than with the Leaning Tower of Pisa.   For someone like me who likes...

Everyone is different, but there are some common symptoms of depression:  I stopped : sleeping well; going out; calling anyone or answering the phone; going to the gym; baking (which I love) and reading.   I started : eating poorly; listening to people who were trying to help (my boss, my family doctor, my therapist, my spouse); getting excruciating phantom nerve pain and feeling helpless and stuck; jumping from one thing to the next and finding easy tasks overwhelming; crying and feeling hopeless and all the time wondering how everyone else seemed to have it all together. I finally ended up in the adult mental health ward of the hospital--after my spouse pleaded with the ER doctor to send in a crisis worker instead of sending me home.  I stayed for 18 days-- surrounded by people who wanted to help and support me. They removed some of the weight I was carrying and launched a lifeline of support to shore me up...