Let's Talk About Depression.

I haven't written for so long! I see that my last post was in August of 2020. There are a few reasons I haven't posted. First, the last 13 months has sucked. Yep, you are aware. I didn't have anything to say that wasn't something we were all hearing all the time. The biggest reason, however, was because I often can't bring myself to look at a computer screen after I am finished work. I've made a (healthy) habit of walking away from my computer after work and not looking back at it until the next day. This is for both my physical and mental health. I have a bit of emotional energy today, so I figured I would take a chance to exercise some catharsis and write about something I never thought I had: depression. 

So. If you've read my blog before, or if you listened to my TEDx talk, you might know that I have had some rough patches in life. I believe strongly in feeling my sadness and working my way through it so I can come out the other side and appreciate the happiness that will inevitably follow. I am ever an optimist. I am always grateful. I practice self-care and have a deep sense of self-awareness. 

But, I didn't know I was (am) depressed. 

I've always had situational or circumstantial sadness. It's normal to be sad when shitty things happen to you. I've also always been able to heal and move toward my happy. In the past few years though, the cloud of sadness has sat over my head, sometimes for no reason at all. In the past year, the circumstantial sadness has become pretty heavy, and I finally came to a point where I had to open my eyes and understand that I am not just sad.

I was at my doctor for my yearly check up at the beginning of the year. I go yearly to check for anything strange or different, because it's the responsible thing to do. Usually, it's all about physical health - blood pressure, lungs, heart, weight, breast exam, internal exam. It generally doesn't take too long, and it is pretty routine. I'm fairly healthy. My biggest issue is asthma and allergies. 

This time it was different. My doctor, when finished the physical exam, asked me how I was doing emotionally. I wasn't really expecting the response I had. 

I wept in her office. 

I wasn't okay. There's the obvious - the COVID-19 Pandemic. There's the less obvious though, as well. It's been 'a year' in other ways too. The biggest thing I was (am) dealing with is my father's illness. I've started writing about this and I couldn't get through it. It is too heavy, too scary, too close to the heart to write about most of the time. When I was a child, I watched my mother wither away in chemotherapy. Now, my dad is taking chemotherapy. He doesn't have cancer - who knew you could treat other things with this? He has an autoimmune disease that is attacking his kidneys. His body is literally killing itself. You don't function without kidneys. So, this not only brings up awful, painful, vividly brutal memories, but it also brings up the stark reminder that my father is not immortal. So, in my doctor's office, I wept.

The best things you can do for yourself when you have Depression is to be aware of it and reach out. In that moment with my doctor, I became truly aware for the first time, and that lead to an ask for help. She told me there were things she could do to help me. I was already attending some counseling to deal with my dad situation, which was a great start. I definitely wasn't aware yet that this was so much more than sadness. This situation only brought the dark cloud that has been over my head for a few years to the forefront. It made it so that I had to do something because I was no longer functioning. Before, I could fake it pretty well when I had to, so I was 'functioning'. 

What I realize, thinking about depression, is that I don't have an unhappy life. I am happy with my life. Just because I feel down a lot, and need help to deal with my feelings, that doesn't mean that I am necessarily unhappy in my life. These two things don't have to be mutually exclusive. In addition to practicing gratitude, optimism and appreciating my blessings, I also default to sadness when I am not working on my mood. I am not unhappy, but I am depressed.

Awareness of this is a huge step forward. Seeking help and treatment from people who know how to deal with this is another step. The one thing I know I can't do without, and the reason I've been able to function for so long is the people around me. I have my little family in my home and my sister, who all deserve a happy and healthy me, and I have this amazing chosen family around me that actually lifts me up and accepts all the parts of me. That support network is more valuable than I can express. 

This is my reality of dealing with the depression I never thought I had. If you have a cloud over your head all the time and you just can't figure out why, maybe you should have a chat with your doctor. Honestly, it's the best thing I've done for myself all year. 

Be well friends. 

How do we get through this?

 Man, this year has been a doozy so far. That goes without saying. The world is not okay, and most of us are barely keeping our heads above water. So I guess, the question is, how do we get through this?

First of all, what is the "this"? You name it. Crazy pandemic. Fucked up politics. People dying and being harmed everywhere you turn. Being stuck in our homes. Having to change our lives as we know them. Pick one, pick them all. Our world is so divided. The smallest things are causing giant controversies. Wear a mask in a public place? Either you are cool with it or you feel like the government is taking away your rights. There isn't one thing popping up in the world right now that isn't causing division. 

HOW DO WE GET THROUGH THIS?

I have an answer. Just one answer, and I'm sure there are so many more. It is so hard not to get caught up in all the vitriol, and honestly, I get caught up in things all the time. I have very strong convictions and I don't particularly think I need to be quiet about them. While I disagree with some things quite vehemently, and support other things wholeheartedly, I think my answer can help me survive this craziness. 

Here it is:

Grace.

Empathy.

Compassion. 

There's never going to be a time when we need less of these three things. I disagree with people who think funding big business over funding schools is a good decision. I disagree with people who think privatizing hospitals is a good idea. I disagree with people who want to take away the rights of others. These things are happening in my world everywhere I turn. How can I not get caught up in all the anger and divisiveness? I can try to have a little grace, empathy and compassion for my fellow humans. Does that mean I will stop fighting for what I believe is right? Not a fucking chance. But, it does mean that I can go about what I do with the understanding in mind that everyone else is also trying to get by in a very difficult world. The more grace I can show those who disagree with me, the more empathy I can have for them, and the more compassion I can give them, the less rage I feel with the current state of affairs. 

Showing grace, empathy and compassion isn't necessarily about those I disagree with. It isn't necessarily for those I am fighting against. It's actually for me! I need to be able to find some solace, happiness and satisfaction in life. And man, life is hard right now. 

So, what is showing grace? Firstly, I have to make a choice to not to take things personally. I have to try to figure out why people do what they do, say what they say and feel what they feel. That's a tough one, but honestly, it feels better understanding that people's motivations are usually the same as my own. The next step to having grace is learning that I can choose to forgive people who I feel have wronged me. I've lived a long time understanding that forgiveness is essential for my peace of mind. It is the letting go of anger or hurt and choosing to move forward instead of dwelling in those feelings. It DOES NOT mean that relationships continue as normal. I've encountered several situations with friends and people in my life where I have felt hurt, angered or alienated by their actions or words. For my own self-preservation, I won't hold onto those feelings, but also for self-preservation, I will likely keep those people at arm's length from now on. If I have distanced from someone, there is probably a reason for it. Maybe it is just that life gets in the way, but more likely, I have put someone at arm's length because I refuse to feel the hurt, anger or pain that goes along with interacting with that person. Forgiveness and grace is a choice, and it actually takes some work and conscious decisions. 

Empathy...compassion... how about these things? Having empathy is trying to put yourself in someone else's shoes, feel what they feel. Having compassion is giving a shit about others. These two things go hand in hand. I can have empathy for you and disagree with you. I would argue that people have more in common than they have differences. We are all just trying to get by, and doing what we think is best for our own situations. That's what it comes down to. That's it. Vilifying people because they are on the opposite side of an issue really doesn't get us anywhere. You know what does? Listening to others. Hearing others. Having compassion for others. When we do this, we do not sink into pettiness and bickering. We actually lead by example.

I have always believed that if I live my life in such a way that I leave more positive in my wake than negative, that positivity will continue on its trajectory and move into the world. If I walk through life in such a way that my presence makes someone else's day a little better, then that light moves on into others. Empathy is exponential, guys. 

So here it is. Life is SO hard right now. None of us can see what will happen next. None of us knows when or even if life my return to normal. Not one of us is immune from the intense pressures of life in this moment, the divisiveness of the world, or the uncertainty of the future. We are all struggling. And with that knowledge, maybe we can give one another a break every now and again and have a look at what positive things we can. Let's all have a little grace, empathy and compassion. 

Daughter

Daughter,

What can I say to you, that will express how I feel about you? You are my first child. I have loved you since before you existed, and I can truly say, there is no fiercer love in the world, than that of a mother for her child. You were my child when I was but a child myself. You and I, we've been through so many firsts together.

When you were born, I became Mother. Your first breath became mine too, in this new me. We were born together, child of mine. And that name, is my favourite name. Mother.

When you spoke your first word, I heard my first word from my first born. When you took your first steps, I became the Mother of Walking, Toddling Girl. When you read your first word, when you created your first piece of art, when you sang your first tune, when you ... I became proud, for the first time, all over again. Every day, my girl, is another day of firsts for us two. And that bond is one that is unbreakable.

Now, here is another first. It's a first letting go, a first you're becoming an adult moment and it is truly a thing to behold. You are setting on a new path, one that has not been written for you because you control your trajectory. Daughter, I wish I could glimpse the path before you and shine a light the whole way down. I wish I could pave it for you, and make it safe. But, it is your path and you must walk it. It will not be smooth, nor will it be easy. But, Daughter, it will be yours, and I will hold your hand and I will push you (maybe a little), and I will cheer you on all the way down. I will wear your colours and I will be there to smile at you when you feel like you can't. I will cry for you and cry with you, and I will probably get mad, once in a while. I will shine lights where I am able, when it is too dark for you to see.  I will help you learn how to get back up when you stumble or fall, and I will definitely have your back when you're climbing up the rocks. I will celebrate your joys and and I will mourn your losses, right along with you when you need me.

But here is the big part for you: the path is yours, and you must walk it. You have this whole, bright, wide, crazy future that is all for you. I can't take you there, but man will I be the one ever in your corner as you go.

Daughter. You have given me the greatest gifts of my life. Now, take your wonderful life and run. Go forward, go up. Push and persevere. Be wild but safe. Be shrewd but smile. Be ambitious but kind. Grow. Never stop growing.

This new first, this new chapter is all yours my girl. God, I love you.

Mom

"New Normal"... Quarantine Blessings?

These past few months have been an adjustment for all of us. We keep hearing phrases like "new normal", "pivot", "physical distancing" and "quarantine." I know you're over these phrases, like I am. It's been hard. My previous post talked about how the first stage of this pandemic was akin to the stages of grief. We lost our way of life, in a snap of the fingers. It was gone, just like that. We all had to shift how we were living, and I acknowledged that I was feeling loss. I grieved all the things we lost. But now that we are months in, and that sense of "new normal" has set in, I am able to take a step back and see the good that has come out of this. And really, there is a lot of good.

First, I have to say that I am so grateful to still have my job. It looks different, but I am still working full time. My household is very, very lucky. We haven't suffered financially like so many others. I am so, so, grateful for this. I had a hard time shifting to remote work, but in the grand scheme of things, I am so lucky to have been a part of this, because I learned that I am capable of turning on a dime and adjusting. I have adapted my workflow, my schedule, my methods - and I have been largely successful here. It hasn't been without its challenges, but if I look at the big picture, this whole shift has given me skills to add to my resume, and simply helped me to become a better teacher. Things I didn't think were possible a few months ago have proven to not only be possible, but successful.

If I continue on this thread of things I feel good about, I can say that I'm finally out of the initial funk of eating and drinking in excess because I felt awful. I had to go through that grossness, but I finally feel like I don't want to soothe with food and wine. That, is a blessing. Bringing some nutrition back into my life feels really awesome. I have lost almost 5 pounds this week, just from not eating everything I see and want all the time. Win!

I've gotta say, being stuck in my home with my family has been... so amazing. This has allowed us to bond and gel in ways we haven't before. I am so grateful to be quarantined with people I really like spending time with! My (soon to be) wife and I have had so many amazing conversations and we've been able to spend time with each other in a way that isn't usually possible when our lives are so busy and crazy. Not that I don't work way too much still, but no commute = 2 extra hours in  my day. My girls have become closer to each other, and we've been able to spend some amazing time together. We've baked a million things, dusted off our roller-blades, found some tv shows to watch together, and just generally we've been able to work together and enjoy each other's company. I think this has been extremely hard on our kids - losing school and social life - but really I think this has brought out the best in my girls. I've seen their kindness and empathy on another level. The usual anxiety of life has all but dissipated and they are smiling more. They help more around the house. They cook dinner. They bake cakes and fun things for friends and deliver them to doorsteps with thoughtful notes and cards. They don't bicker with each other as much as they used to. They hang out with each other, because frankly, they have no one else to hang out with! They laugh, giggle and play. It is a breath of fresh air.

Don't get me wrong. We're not all sunshine all the time, but really, I think today, the good outweighs the bad. This whole life shift has brought some things into a sharper focus than they were before. The way I was living my life wasn't sustainable. I worked full time, then worked at my side gig after that, then by the time I was finally finished working, I was too spent to give anything to the people I love most. I am still working long, hard days. But, that extra two hours of not commuting has made it so I can finish everything earlier, usually early enough to sit down to dinner every night with my family. I have time in the evenings to just sit and be. I honestly haven't experienced that in decades. The pace of life has slowed so much, I feel like I can actually stop and breathe today. I know it won't always be this way, but I think I will be more aware of my pace in the future. I will make sure that I'm not running myself ragged, and make time to stop. That's something I have always had trouble with. I'm happy I was forced to do it.

So my lesson? Even though there is so much fear, uncertainty and still a great deal of difficulty, today the good outweighs the bad. It feels good to see the positive that has come out of this. I don't feel like this every day, but today is a day to breathe, and feel grateful. We were forced to full stop and re-imagine our lives in a different way and that has shown us what we are capable of. Adversity tends to show us how we can be better and do better, so today, I am grateful.

What is this thing I'm feeling?

My last post was fairly optimistic in feeling. I was fairly optimistic in its writing. Now, I find myself on a bit of a roller-coaster. We're all on this ride right now. Some of us are sitting up front, feeling the brunt of it first hand. Some of us are at the very back, being whipped around. Some of us are sitting in the middle and can't see what's coming ahead or what's going on behind us. But wherever we are sitting, we are all on it; the highs, the lows - we're all experiencing the peaks and valleys, and loop-de-loops together. 

I go up and down spontaneously and violently at times. At other times, I just feel down. I feel like crying all the time, like staying in bed all day, like eating and drinking too much and that's all I can manage. The thing is, I also feel guilty that I am not okay. I still have a job  (for now). My wife still has a job. My children are healthy, my family is healthy, and my friends are all safe and healthy too. I have the ability to adapt to this new life well. I have the technological skills to work and flourish in an online environment. So, if you look at my life on paper, you would think I have a lot to be grateful for. And truly, I do. 

So, what's the deal? I came to the realization a few days ago about exactly what it is I'm experiencing right now. This is grief. I am grieving loss. I should know - I've grieved so many times in my life, and it often looks similar to what I am doing now. I can function on the day to day. I can complete tasks, do work, and even smile and laugh. But inside, underneath it all, I am so not okay. We are likely all grieving in some way. The world has done an about turn - instead of connecting more, being more global, we are now closing borders, disconnecting and sitting in our homes, unable to connect the way we once did. 

Cartography of Grief Source: © Refuge in Grief

I've experienced several of the grief stages thus far. I've lived the denial phase, the depression phase (current), the bargaining phase (on and off), and the anger phase (underlying everything right now). I have yet to get to the acceptance phase and stay there. It's important to note that these phases aren't linear. We can move in an out of these phases fluidly. I've been moving around in them daily sometimes. My rational mind and the fact that I am responsible to others is what keeps me going right now, and without that, I would probably not leave my bedroom. 

So, why all the grief? I guess it goes without saying, but I will say it anyway. The lives we were living don't exist anymore. They are gone, ripped from us by a submicroscopic agent. It is normal to be feeling down, even when you know you should be feeling grateful. I am grateful to be alive. I am grateful to be healthy, employed an otherwise fairly unscathed by Covid 19. That said, I am also grieving a life. I grieve the job I had, which has now completely changed. I grieve the time spent with my family and friends. I grieve for my friends, who have lost jobs and businesses. I grieve for our economy, our country and all of those more affected than me. I grieve the loss of my kids' school milestones - grade 9 farewell, music and theater performances, rites of passage from one grade to the next. I grieve the fact that we had no time to say our goodbyes, make our peace and find our closure on that life we were living. 

The wonderful thing about grief is that it is actually part of healing. It's a necessary step toward a new normal - one that will be a part of the new life we will live. And isn't it a wonderful thing? Knowing that I am grieving helps me to remember that I will also be okay soon. I've grieved a great many things, and I've also come out the other side stronger and better, every single time. 

My takeaway from this act of catharsis I've just exercised is that even though I'm on a roller-coaster of grief right now, at some point the ride ends and I can get off. I will definitely be okay. Many of us will also be okay. Our world, our lives, will not be the same, but we will find our way again once the dust settles. For now, I am going to ride out my grief and allow myself to feel it. I'm not really okay but at the same time, I am. I am because I understand grief. 

It's okay to grieve right now. I promise.

When we need resilience the most.

Resilience has been on my mind in the last year and a half, almost exclusively. Obviously, several other things live in the landscape of this introvert's mind, but resilience is the grounding word that I've been single-mindedly focused on for the  majority of this time. That's because, in December of 2018, I embarked on a journey to speak at a TEDx event at my workplace. What possessed me to jump on that roller coaster isn't something I can quite put my finger on, but it stemmed from a thought that I had something that I needed to share. I didn't know exactly what it would look like, but through a year of planning, meeting with my coach, and writing several scripts, I came to the realization that my story was about resilience. I focused on three tools I have used in my own life to remain resilient in the face of some pretty significant trauma. In a nutshell, they were see yourself, forgive yourself and be transparent with those who depend on you.

I did my speech on February 27th. I've been trying really hard to process what it all meant, and my feelings around the event. At first, I was elated. It was done, and I was proud of what I had said. I think it had some impact on the audience. I could see their eyes, and I know they heard me. Then, I sank into this place where I couldn't quite feel proud. I haven't seen the video yet, and the further we get away from it, the more at peace I feel with it all. But, honestly, I need to work on my own advice. It didn't go perfectly according to the script, and so I kind of beat myself up about it. Maybe I should have added another piece - be gentle with yourself. And maybe another one, believe people when they tell you that you did a good job. I'm such a terrible inner critic that I have a hard time taking praise. Or criticism actually. However, I am working on it! Really hard. I'm anxious to see the video, but also anxious about seeing the video.

So, what's the point of this little story? I think the journey I've been on for the past year and a half, discovering what makes me resilient, was incredibly timely. At this time in the world, everything feels like it's balancing on the end of a knife. Our global way of life has changed. The world is CLOSED. The landscape in which we do work, education, and even have relationships is changing minute by minute. My career, for the foreseeable future, has gone remote and online. My children have no school to go to, no activities to do, no way of spending time with friends. My social interactions have been limited to small groups, one on one and on FaceTime. I am not alone in my isolation. None of us are.

It's these kinds of times that truly test our resilience. My generation has never seen something like this.  As we isolate further and further, we actually need to move closer together in support of one another. People are losing their jobs, their businesses. People are losing their loved ones. How are we going to respond? Will we fall to pieces? Or will we join together (figuratively) to help one another, to lend a hand to those who need it most, to love harder than we ever have before?

I'm going to try to take my own advice here (because I think maybe it is good advice). I'm going to give myself time to reflect and turn inward when I feel the pressure becoming too much. This is essential. See all of it. I need to see and acknowledge when I'm faltering, when I don't feel strong, and also see and acknowledge that I've been through some pretty awful things, and I can do it again. I need to forgive myself for those moments when I don't believe I can handle things, for times when I might complain, or be impatient, for moments when I falter and can't be my best. Because honestly, we can't always be our best. It's impossible. And lastly, I need to be honest and transparent about all the things that are going on. Transparency is a breath of fresh air, and it helps build empathy. The more real we are with each other, the more we can see that we actually are in this together. Empathy, that is what is going to get us through this crazy time. The more empathy we have for one another, the more we build up our collective resilience (ha, that's a line from my TEDx).

Guys, our world is changing. Let's show the world just how resilient we are. Turn inward, make sure you're all good there, and then turn back outward and push that resilience where we need it most. Stay strong out there everyone.

1995, December, A month to live

Every time I decorate a Christmas tree, I am back in 1995, in the living room with the dusty rose carpet. My mom, wrapped in a blanket, is too weak to even stand up and put ornaments on the tree. She has no hair. Her skin is paper thin. I have this ornament, one I’ve had since I was a toddler. It is a mouse in a mitten, or a sock. I can’t remember. In 2019, that ornament is long gone. In 1995, it’s a part of my childhood. My mom gave it to me long ago.

When I wrap Christmas presents, I remember her. She taught me how to wrap them neatly. Fold the edges into a neat triangle, then fold the end over once more and tape for a uniform look on both sides.

In 1995, I filled my sister’s stocking before I went to bed. First I made sure she was asleep, then I carefully placed items in the oversized sock (literally, you could fit a child in there), and my mom watched my work. When you’re 6, Santa is your hero, so mom made sure she had the stocking full. I don’t remember Christmas morning much. I don’t remember the presents I got that year. My picture is missing pieces. The image burned into my mind is that of my mom, wrapped in her blanket, telling me where to hang the ornaments so the tree looked nice.

 She’d been shopping weeks earlier. She was sick and weak but she had to do her Christmas shopping. She went with her best friends. She had no energy; she was desiccated by chemo. They pushed her in a shopping cart. There are photos of her smiling and laughing.

At Christmas, I have to fight memories and a broken heart. At Christmas, I have to fight to feel the joy my mom was so good at making me feel. Depending on the day, I can feel sadness, joy, or both and everything in between. This year, I find myself seeing the parallels between my life and hers, and I feel the pang of the fact that, were I in her shoes, this would be my last Christmas. I am the age she was when she passed. Were I her, I’d have 36 days left to live. Please forgive me if I am down this holiday season. I’m working hard to embrace my joy, because I really have a blessed life. But the holidays, they are hard, this one more than most.

"Self Love is the Greatest Middle Finger of All Time" - Anonymous

We go through waves, periods, eras in life. There are periods of discipline, periods of indulgence, periods of joy, struggle and even periods of balance. I've always striven for balance, but rarely achieved it. And so, I try to balance my waves as best I can. Last year, I worked really hard on nutrition, losing weight, my career, and learning to say no to things. It was my "year of no." 2019 has thus far been my "year of shit." In my long list of "years of shit," it hasn't actually been that terrible, but there has been a great deal of change, a great deal of struggle and a great deal of turmoil.

What I've realized from this whole half-year of kind-of-bad-I've-been-better, is that I need to be more gentle with myself than I was last year. Some fairly extreme sadness through the beginning months of spring put me into a trend of eating too much, exercising too little, and beating myself up for it. I couldn't write much, I couldn't look at myself with any kind of satisifaction - I basically thought of myself as what's left at the bottom of the toilet after someone's taken a shit and flushed. You know, leftovers. I felt like something that needed to be cleaned off the bottom.

Now, on summer vacation, away from a life that overruns me with 'busy', I have been free to reflect and right some of the wrongs going on inside me. I made some key decisions at the beginning of summer.

1. I'm going to stop trying to lose weight. I gained back every pound I lost last year, and I need a new, more balanced approach to my wellness. I am very much an all or nothing kind of person, so this is hard for me. I'm not recording food, not counting calories, not adhering to any kind of diet plan. I am eating what I want and when I'm hungry. But, what I am doing to be better to myself is exercising. I want to exercise in some way every day. I've become somewhat addicted to classes at my local gym. First, it was yoga. A lot of yoga. Like I went and bought a yoga mat because I love it so much. I feel strong, centered, and peaceful. I feel challenged and opened up. Yoga, yoga, yoga...but today I tried something that terrified me. I did a 45 minute class of high intenstity interval training. I was red in the face for an hour after, but I felt good. I felt strong. I felt more powerful than I have in a long time.

2. I need to ditch the scale. This one hasn't lasted, if I am being honest. I weighed myself just this morning, actually. But, this is not a good vibe for me, and so I want to stay away from it. That said, I have to stop beating myself up for doing it. Just accept that this is where I am, and I have to be okay with it. My body is so strong, and I am surprising myself left and right with just how much I can do, with how hard I can push, with how I can push further with each class, each breath, each decision. I feel fucking amazing. I'm chubby, but man am I strong.

3. I need to be active and not sleep through summer. I am so good at sleeping. I would win the Olympics for sleeping. Leave me alone and I will sleep a whole day. I can't sleep this precious time away though. I sleep my 8 - 9 hours, then get up and go to yoga, the beach, bike riding with my kids. Even if I just enjoy a morning coffee on the patio, I feel that I am achieving this goal. 9:30 am sure beats 6:30 am.

So, those are my goals for myself. So far, I think I'm doing well. The last, and most important goal I've made for myself is that I need to be kind and gentle to myself and listen to my needs. If I need to sit at home and be quiet, I have to honour that. If I want to see a friend, I do that. If I want to read a book, watch Netflix, sit on my patio and bake in the sun, I do that. I spend the majority of my year catering to my circumstances, the needs of those around me and ignoring myself (to an extent). This summer I have been kinder and more in touch with my needs, and it is so refreshing. I love and want to fill the needs of others - I am wired for this. It's a huge part of who I am. But what energy I put into others I also have to put into myself.

Being 38 scares me. I don't like it because my mortality is in sharp focus. So, I need to take care of myself. I need to live. I need to celebrate this body I have because it is healthy. It has given me so much, and continues to do so. I have to really love it.

Self love is the greatest middle finger of all time. 

So this is May.

Every May gives me a double whammy of bittersweet.  It's Mother's Day, shortly followed by my birthday.  You'd think both those days would be happy and exciting, right?  It's so fun waking up to sweet homemade gifts from my kids on Mother's Day each year, and who doesn't like a good birthday celebration?

It should be all sweetness, but there is a bitter taste for both these days.  Each Mother's Day, I am reminded of what I have, but also of what I don't have.  It's been so long since I could say "Happy Mother's Day" to my own person, and that makes me miss my mom fiercely.  I honestly can't even remember her last Mother's Day with us, which would've been in 1995.  I was a week away from turning 14 that year, and I'm sure I didn't make a big enough deal of it.  So each Mother's Day, I wake up with the sweetness, feeling grateful that I have two healthy and decent young woment to call my daughters, but then that bitter taste sits at the back of my mouth and I have to swallow hard in order to curb the seeping sadness. I like and don't like Mother's Day. 

This same bitter taste taints my birthday.  I like and don't like that day as well.  My birthday is also my mom's birthday.  The last birthday she saw was when she turned 38, and then 9 months later, she was gone.  It used to be the most special day.  I loved waking up on my birthday because I knew my mom and I shared something really special. She would leave special things in my room for me to find when I woke up, and we would share a birthday cake with both our names.  It felt like our special connection that no one else had.  Now, my birthday has that same bittersweet feeling, because it's just mine, but I don't want it to be.  I miss that specialness that the first 14 of my birthdays had.  I miss feeling like I was in on a secret nobody else knew. 

This birthday is a big mouthful of bitter for me.  I am turning 38 in 6 days.  I refer to it as my "scary birthday".  I don't know what life can look like for me after 38.  I kind of want to close my eyes this year, and just wait for 39 because then I won't be the same age as my mom was when she died.  I want to skip this one.  This birthday carries with it more bitter than sweet, and I just have a gutful of gross sitting inside me right now.  I feel desperately sad.  I know I won't feel this way for long, and I know I can still be happy in my sadness, but at the moment, sadness is the heaviest thing I feel.  It's the kind of sadness that makes a person want to stay in their pjs all day, close the curtains, and pull up the blankets tight around your neck.  It's the kind of sadness that makes a person want to sleep through it. 

I'm not writing this because I am looking for sympathy or well wishes.  I write this because it's really important for me to embrace my times of not okay, because when I feel those emotions fully, I can work through them and let them go.  It really is okay to not be okay.  I can put my smile on any day of the week and act like all is well, but why?  Why should I need to act all the time?  I need to be authentic, and reality is far more interesting than any make-believe I can weave.  Sometimes I need to draw into myself and do some inner medicine, just allowing some gentleness and softness in.  I'm really good at being critical of myself, of my choices, of my actions, but today, this week, this month, I choose to be kind and gentle and treat my sadness with softness.  Don't be afraid to feel sad.  Being not okay is okay.  At least it's real.

When we are Silent

I have been overwhelmed by the support my last blog post received (https://saysomethingquiet.blogspot.com/2019/04/what-its-like-to-be-gay-in-alberta.html?m=1). I have heard messages of support from people I never expected to hear from. I have had several people's words make me feel more loved and supported than I even knew cared. I am so very grateful.

Those words, likes, shares and the general goodwill really give me hope and faith that whatever the majority's political stripe, they are moderate in social beliefs and don't reflect the bigoted garbage that came out this election. Those words have helped fan a fire in me to be louder, stronger and more active in my community and my province.

What I also heard, though, were the silences. In life, I have worked very hard to surround myself with those who bring out my best self, those who reciprocate love, support, empathy, and the energy I put into them. When I go through hard times, I don't always reach out. Those closest to me usually see what's  happening as it does, but I don't always reach out. A few weeks ago, I reached out in the most public way available to me. I opened my heart to the page, and showed just a glimpse of the pain I was feeling because of harmful and hurtful ideas being so accepted and supported. Please believe me when I say that was just a taste of it. I was surprised, encouraged and entirely heartened by the words and well wishes I received. I felt more love after I posted the blog than I did before it was published.  Now, I can also hear the gaping silences from some who I thought were in my corner.

When we sit by and let things happen without standing up, we are doing the same as if we are supporting the cause. When people I haven't spoken to in a decade piped in and said, hey, I support you and I support LGBTQ+ people in the province, those people, that day, were not silent bystanders. Really, that's all it takes sometimes. When you use your voice to show a person that you support them, that has ripple effects. You have no idea how far those words go. When we stay silent, when we don't say a word, when we sit back and say my silence has no effect, we show that we do not care enough to stand up. A society that does not care enough to stand up is one that becomes overtaken. It is one that sits back and becomes suppressed, beholden to the powers that be, and essentially gives permission to those in power to abuse them.

I have been abused, and I will never give permission to another living soul to do that to me again. I do not give permission to a government to quash my rights as a woman or as LGBTQ+.  I will not go gentle into that good night. I will not suffer in silence when a group of powerful bigots smile their charming smiles and convince the masses that they don't have dark motives. I will not.

But silence gives them permission. Silence is laying down in submission. Silence is an action, though it seems like it is nothing. Lack of action speaks loudly. Silence gives them permission.

I used to call myself a pacifist. I am assuredly not. I see a world that is swinging right into disaster. I see a country, a nation, a people divided. I see sinister motives and disgusting corruption put forth as cool heads and clever minds. I will not sit back and be quiet about it.

I don't ask anyone to take up a standard and march to some apocalyptic battle. I don't ask capitalists to swing left and sympathize with my bleeding socialist heart. I don't ask people to betray their own beliefs. I believe in freedom above all.

I do ask that you don't sit back and watch as people's dangerous rhetoric wages war on constitutional rights. I do ask that you don't sit back and listen to that same rhetoric which spreads hate and bigotry. I do ask, that if you love me, you support me back, when I feel the need to reach out.

I don't reach out when I am hurting very often. I am strong and powerful and I can shoulder just about anything. So, when I do reach out, you should know, you must know, I need actual, tangible help and support. I don't need you to hang a damn rainbow flag above your doorway, but what I do need is for my supporters to stand the fuck up and stop looking the other way when I, or others like me, ask for help. You don't have to repost my blogs, comment on my social media, or even text me to show your support. You don't have to do a thing, but you can. You can do so much by not being a bystander. Don't think I'm angry if you didn't reach out. I'm certainly not. But maybe I will reach out to those who spoke up, who piped up, who showed me they support me when I needed it.

If we all speak up, our message is amplified. I don't care if we disagree on a great many things, if you support true freedom and equal rights, we can stand unified in that.

I won't sit down today. I don't feel safe, and I won't sit and allow others to also feel unsafe. Silence will not be heard from me. Not today. Certainly not tomorrow. Silence will not be my legacy.

What it's Like to be Gay in Alberta

"You don't have to watch any TV for any length of time today where you don't see on the TV programs, them trying to tell you that homosexuality and homosexual love is good love.  Heck, there are people out there, I could take you, I could take you to places on the website I'm sure where you could find out that there's, where pedophilia is love." Mark Smith, UCP Education Critic, Candidate for Drayton Valley, Alberta.

Do you ever have moments that cut right to the heart?  This was a moment for me.  I am gay.  I am Albertan.  I am also the victim of abuse perpetrated by a pedophile who saw my 10 year old body as something to be desired.  To put these two things, the love I have for and receive from my fiance, and the perverted sexual gratification my abuser relished in when I was a child, in the same disparaging sentence, is, to say the least, hurtful.

No, hurtful is not the word I am looking for.  Devastating.  No, not strong enough yet.  Mind-blowing. No, that's not harsh enough.

Truth is, there isn't a word for how this feels.  It is more akin to the sound you make when you're sucker punched in the gut.  That's what those comments feel like.

I respect personal freedoms and the fundamental beliefs behind democracy, like free speech. I respect freedom of religion.  Heck, I devoutly followed a religion for the first 25 years of my life.  I saw the good that came along with that.  I also, unfortunately, saw the closed-mindedness too.  I followed the church without being discerning enough to understand the real impact these kinds of beliefs had on others.  And then, I woke up and saw the world around me.  I saw people, and then, I saw myself.

Let me tell you what it's like to be gay in Alberta.

This is what it's like.  I turn on the radio and hear an MLA, and elected member of public office, say that I am a perversion.  I hear the words coming out of his actual mouth.

This is what it's like to be gay in Alberta.  I am afraid when I have to come out to people, day after day, in my regular life.  Simple, unassuming questions like, "What does your husband do?" or "Oh your partner works at --, that's so cool.  What's his job?"  Do you know that that feels like?  Do you know how it cuts, little by little?  It's like little, stinging papercuts, and when you have too many, they're the only thing you can think about.

This is what it's like to be gay in Alberta.  My future wife and I feel uncomfortable holding hands in public for fear of the reaction we will receive.  Our paper cuts hurt enough, so we don't want the sucker punches that will follow.  When I drive around my neighbourhood and see signs on lawns that support the people who hate me, I feel like I don't belong in my own home.  I feel afraid of my neighbours.  I feel afraid of my own community.  It hurts my heart that my children will grow up with children whose parents think I am no different than a pedophile.  How do I protect my children from this kind of thinking?

This is what it's like to be gay in Alberta.  I am never quite sure if people accept me or if they condemn me, but I read forced smiles more closely, and I am forced to have discretion in who I tell or don't tell that I am marrying a woman.  I get that butterfly, sick to my stomach feeling any time I am faced with the situation where I have to decide to speak about my partner using the correct female pronoun, or to use something more gender neutral in the spirit of self-preservation.

At this moment in time, I feel as though my human rights are in question.  Not only are the rights of LGBTQ+ going to be called into question, but my rights as a woman to choose what happens to my own body come up as well.  Maybe people will say it would never happen.  Maybe people don't believe that my hard earned rights could be repealed.  Whether they can be or not, people who think I shouldn't be allowed to have complete and total rights over my own body, will be emboldened and speak their beliefs loudly.  Those are much more than papercuts.

World events right now are proving that a leader who leans toward racist, sexist and homophobic views enable the others who share those sympathies to be louder, angrier, and eventually, more powerful.

This is what it's like to be gay in Alberta.

The Stories That Shape Us Part Deux

I have always been a strong believer in the story.  I love literature.  I love poetry.  I love art.  The reason is that all of these tell stories, and we are made of them.  They are our souls.  They are the fabric that makes us.  What are we without them?  I am obsessed with them - yours, mine, humanity's.

I took art history in university. I never quite got art before that, but once I took my first class, I was hooked.  I considered becoming an art historian instead of a teacher.  Had I not had a deep and fiery passion for teaching and books, that would've been my choice.

In my first art history class, I was introduced to La Grande Odalisque by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, painted in 1814.  I couldn't pinpoint why, but I was arrested by this image.  She was so vulnerable, complex, twisted, subverted and powerful.  I fell in love with this piece.  I remember returning over and over again to her, examining, interpreting, observing each and every detail.  Why did I feel so drawn to this odd, twisted, idealized woman?  This leads me to story #2, tidbits and realization from my first year of university,

Story #2 - Who the fuck am I?

I moved to another city for university.  I couldn't wait to leave the city I grew up in.  There was absolutely nothing in the place I wanted to associate with any longer, aside from my family.  In the few short years before university, I'd lost my mother, my home, my younger sister, my closest friend, and my dignity.  My mother succumbed to cancer.  I was ejected from my home with a change of the locks at 16.  My sister was too young to understand, and her father stopped my visits with her. My friend was going through her own things, and we were unable to reconcile differences.  My dignity was shattered by rehashing my childhood abuse over and over again with detectives, courts and counselors. 

I was ready to start again.

I didn't know who I was supposed to be.  I was angry.  I was hurt.  I was broken.  I was determined to build my life back up and make something of myself I could be proud of.  I wanted to be someone my mother and sister could be proud of.  I sunk myself into school with every fibre of my being.  I took English.  I took psychology.  I took Art History.  Capital A, capital H. 

La Grande Odalisque was on the screen at the front of the lecture hall.  My professor had a funny voice, but was full of wisdom and depth.  His passion for art shone through, right to the back of the hall.  She stared out from the screen at me.  Her eyes betrayed her.  The curve of her spine was impossible.  She was captivating, and I couldn't tell you why. 

I can now.

She was me.  I was her.  She was immortalized and twisted impossibly on canvas, forever altered by the eyes who saw her, created by the man whose brush told her what to be.  But her eyes betrayed him, and were only herself. They looked directly at me, the viewer, with an intensity that made me both shrink and bloom at the same time.  I couldn't look away from her because I saw all of myself in her eyes.  I had stopped being ashamed of looking at the hard things in life. and I was searching for a way out of the twisted pain of my reality.  She was twisted and on display, just like I had been in the many years I spent in court, soul bared before my abuser and my judge.  She was also defiant, and I detected an extravagant soul with passion behind her peacock feathers and piercing gaze. 

She was me.  I was her.

Her story became mine.  I had been made vulnerable by a man and his brush. I had been put on display, twisted impossibly, but not torn completely apart.  I still held onto whatever piece of myself she held in her eyes, and I was staring back at the world challenging it to try me.  You can look, but you can no longer touch.  I was her, forever immortalized, but also defiantly me underneath.  Eventually, I broke out of the canvas - out of the mold someone else had created for me.  But, in that moment in my life, I was exactly La Grande Odalisque. 

The Stories That Shape Us

I find myself in a position to hear a vast variety of people's life stories.  I hear stories of people's struggle, their triumph, their heartbreak, their devastation and their victory.  Over the past five years working with newcomers to Canada, and being a mother of two budding young women (and trying my damnedest to be a good listener), I've heard stories of how people's lives are shaped; how they become who they are; how they fight, shine, crumble, rise again.  I hear of a woman who walked 6 weeks through a war torn country in Africa with her children to escape civil war, never to see her husband again.  I hear of the cruelty of young men and women toward each other in the drama that is adolescence.  I hear of a family whose town was bombed to hell because they believed something different from the majority.  I hear of the trauma that is brought back to life by the simple sound of a fire drill.  I watch my daughters navigate the world, trying to figure out right from wrong.  I hear them tell of blatant homophobia in schools, bullying, slut shaming. I hear stories, and I cherish them.  You see, just as the stories shaped and are shaping those remarkable people, they shape me too.  Our stories can shape each other. 

It is because of these stories, and my own stories, that I find it appalling that a sign on a local bar advertises free drinks for women who take their shirts off.  It is because of these stories, and my own stories that I cry when faced with the realities of Residential Schools, Japanese Internment Camps, the Chinese Head Tax - these dark moments in Canadian history.  It is these stories that make me a firm believer in true inclusion and equality, rights for all, and need to fight for people to see the reality of racism, sexism, and all the other isms and phobias, myself included. 

Our stories shape our lives and perspectives.  Your stories add to the mosaic that is my perspective.  The hardest stories to hear are the ones that arguably have the most impact.  Even though I hate hearing about a man whose village was raided, who laid in the ditch, shot and bleeding for days, pretending to be dead just to survive, I need to hear about this man.  I need to hear him, see him, and see how he has survived, persevered and begun to live again.  You see, these hard stories can help others see that though the world is brutal, there is light.  There is true light when we see how much people can overcome. 

So, my purpose here is to start telling some of my stories.  I have some poignant stories that shaped who I am, and made me into the human I am now.  They made me into the mother I am, the partner I am, the friend I am.  They made me into the teacher I am. 

Story Number One: #metoo

I was ten years old.  I had just moved to a new neighbourhood after moving around to 3 different houses and schools that year.   I was in grade 4.  I wasn't yet beginning to show signs of womanhood, but I would soon. 

I got in trouble for something and was going to get a spanking from my step-father.  That spanking turned into several years of sexual and emotional abuse.  It turned into years of dread: sinking stomach, heart stopping terror.  It turned into a twisted view of sexuality, and a desperate need to feel safe.  I was never safe.  Ever.

I remember chanting to myself, to God, walking home from school each day, "Please, don't be home." My mom didn't get home until 5 or 6.  I would have to be alone with him.  When we were alone, it happened.  I couldn't escape. 

I don't remember when it stopped.  Probably when I was too old to be dominated the same way.  It was always about power and dominance.  It was about crushing the female. It was about stamping out anything positive I thought about myself.  It was about subduing and stealing my power.  I was too young to know I had power or to even think of wielding it. 

I don't tell this story because I want people to feel sorry for me.  Please, don't.  I tell this story because it shaped who I am.  It created in me a strength I wish I'd found somewhere else, somehow else.  But, here it is.  I am more powerful now because I was broken before.  This story made me fiercely protective of my rights as a woman, and an advocate for other young women to stand in their own power.  It made me able to see and empathize with those who have been pushed down by an abuser.  It gave me an anger and a rage that turned into drive, perseverance, and ultimately victory.  I worked through being a victim and took back my femininity, womanhood, and sexuality.  Because I was a victim, I feel I can empathize and love victims more. 

You see?  Our stories can help to shape not only ourselves, but others.  Would I care so much about empowering young people if I hadn't had my power taken from me?  Probably not. Would I be able to look at my daughters the same way?  Probably not.  Would I be so concerned with them standing in their power, being strong, independent women?  I think it would be so different. 

Stay tuned for more stories, if you care to read.  Maybe you have some of the same ones. Maybe reading mine can help yours to take their own power in your life.  Our stories shape us, but we must not let them break us.  If I can sit across a table with a man who lived in a refugee camp for ten years, and see the light that burns in his eyes, surely my stories cannot break me.  If I can speak face to face with a young man who watched his family be shot to death in front of him, and live to tell the story and smile again, then surely my stories cannot break me. 

Let's listen to the stories around us, and take heart in the fact that we are resilient and powerful.

Taped, Glued, Smushed, But Whole

SOUL

If you could cut open your soul, like a nice, neat cross-section from science class, what would you find?  Nice, neat, ordered layers?  Like the rings of a tree, maybe?  Layer of experience upon experience, all smushed up, adding to your self?  I wonder what mine would look like.  I am sure I can wager a guess, and I am nothing like the beautifully scientific section of tree.

I am taped, glued, smushed, squished, cracked, brick and mortar, stone upon jagged stone, broken and rebuilt, over and over again.  If you could open up my soul and see a perfect cross-section, I think you would see a hot mess.  Listen, human life is nothing but orderly.  We try so hard to make sense of our world and put things into their neat and tidy places, but the truth of the matter is, we are all so broken and smashed and strung back together when it comes to the deep down. 

Does this patchwork soul make us any less?  Fuck no.  We are the sum of all our crazy parts, and that is what really makes us whole.  We are not neat and tidy.  We are mess and chaos.  We are happiness, sadness, heartache, heartbreak, joy, elation, love and hate.  We are all of it, all at once. 

Every person that comes into our lives can leave an impression.  Maybe they are a bit of tape or glue.  Maybe they are a crack.  Maybe they are a speck of dust.  Every loss we suffer, every win we have, they all leave their mark.  They build and they tear down. 

When we are torn down, we do whatever we can to put ourselves back together.  When we have someone or something in our lives that offers a bit of tape and glue, we administer it carefully, closing up the cracks and holes that shape our soul.  But really, what truly puts our pieces back together is the power and strength we can muster up ourselves.

Some people call it God.  Some call it the Divine within.  Others call it grit, self, human will.  Whatever you call it, it is this that builds us back up.  It is not another person.  It is not an outside experience.  It is not something good happening in your life.  It is YOU.  Whenever I am broken and beaten, I am the only one who can pull myself back together.  I will look like a holy mess on the inside, but that's A-OK with me.  Why?  Because I am whole, in and of myself.  I do not need someone else to make me more.  I am fine the way I am.  I am everything and nothing acting in tandem, and I can make or break myself. 

So, whatever glue, tape, or patch we stick and sew upon ourselves, rest assured it is all us.  Whatever place we are in mentally, emotionally, socially - only we can truly fill in the cracks and gaps. 

I may be barely holding together on some days, and hardened brick on others, but every day, I am all of me and I am whole.  And, so are you. 

What are you afraid of?

I looked at the cave opening filled with crystal clear water.  My snorkel mask felt like it was suffocating me already.  My stomach lurched like a freight train coming to an emergency stop as I jumped into the water.  I had to make a choice: let my fear overcome me or have a once in a lifetime experience.  

Everyone's afraid of something.  In fact, we're all afraid of so many things.  Some, we know, like my fear of water.  Those ones are able to be fought because we recognize them.  Our rational minds can consciously fight them, because we are aware of them.  They are blatant, and we know that most of the time they're irrational.

But, what about all those deep-seated fears we live in that we can't even see? It's those ones which are most dangerous, because they are born from biases we may not even know we have.  Those are the ones that cause us to hurt ourselves and others.  My fear of water will not hurt me or any other person.  It may be annoying, and a hindrance to me, but it isn't harmful.  But, our deep, bias-filled fears are only harmful.

I think prejudice, discrimination and hate all stem from this fear.  It is the fear of the unknown.  It is the fear of "otherness", fear of change, fear of being wrong.  It is the fear that our own ideas of how the world works will be shattered if we entertain anything we don't understand.

I recently participated in an interview about Pride and what it means to me (which you can see during Calgary's Pride Week starting next Monday - (https://www.facebook.com/GlobalCalgary/videos/1161304070693112/), and this post is the premise I left with: that fear is what causes people to discriminate against LGBTQ+ individuals, and all of those who we find different from ourselves; that and lack of education, empathy and compassion.

These kinds of fears are so, so destructive.  They not only destroy ourselves, but the world around us.  Look at war.  Look at racism.  Look at laws that prohibit women from human rights.  Look at people who are put to death for being gay.  Look.  These things may feel far away from life as we know here and now, but assuredly they exist today.  And, they exist here, more than you may see.

I grew up with whispered rhetoric that was disparaging toward many people (but accepted as normal, and therefore not discriminatory because that's just the way it was) against - Indigenous, LGBTQ+, women, immigrants, People of Colour.  It was subtle, discreet and deeply ingrained in "white" culture.  It was subconscious.  It was disgusting.  It caused me to be afraid of those who were different from me without knowing why.  It was, is and will always be destructive.  We can do better.  We must do better. We don't even know or see these deep biases.

So, what are you afraid of?  Change?  Progress? A society that lives in equality, thus causing our comfortable hierarchy to crumble?

There is some truly deep work to be done here in order to uproot these fears.  I don't know that we will ever get there, but we must work.  There is just this one life we can be really sure of, so I'd rather live it free from the destruction my fear causes.  That's a choice that must be made daily.  Face the fear of things that are unknown, things that are "other", and allow things to move forward.  Change.  Be a champion of stamping out fear.  Listen to others.  See others.  See yourself for who you are, the good and the bad, and reinvent that deep, inner dialogue that destroys.

Finding Worth in Oneself

My partner asked me the other day if I ever feel insecure.  My answer: In what?  Because I feel insecure about everything at one point or another. If you've been reading my blog, you know that I've struggled with insecurity about my body, my eating, and even my parenting.  I feel this is the normal course of being a woman.  These are things ingrained in us.

Should insecurity be ingrained?  Should this be a part of our inner selves?  Well it is, whether we like it or not.

I often say that I am my own worst critic.  Most people are.  I am so hard on myself.  I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm a perfectionist, but I do expect a certain standard of myself, and it's really hard when I don't live up to what's in my head.  So, do I ever feel insecure?  Hell yes.  But not because of your judgement - because of mine.

I suspect I care less about what you think of me than what I think of myself.  I lived a lot of my life worrying about what others thought of me and that way of thinking becomes tiresome.  I do, however, judge myself against others, and the ideal that I perceive I should reach, and therein lies the root of whatever insecurity I feel that day.

My laundry list of insecurities looks like: Am I a good enough parent?  Am I being the example I want to set for my daughters?  Did I teach to my best today?  I am not a good parent.  I am not a good teacher.  I am failing my children and students.  Am I a loving, giving and thoughtful partner?  I am not as thoughtful as she is.  I cannot give as much as she does.  Am I a good friend?  I am often aloof.  I don't call anyone, ever.  Am I as happy as I should be?  I have many down days.  I struggle with anxiety.  I'm also insecure about my writing, and I often look back on my posts and feel them to be trite and trivial.

But I don't say any of this because I want sympathy, or for responses to these.  That's because it's all my inner self-critic and it has absolutely nothing to do with others!  I think a part of my harshness on myself pushes me forward, pushes me to be better.  And, that is a good thing.  But sometimes these things cross the line and I end up in destructive mode as opposed to being motivated.

All that said, I have a fairly healthy self-esteem, and I can often answer yes to my inner critic and feel pretty good about myself and how I conduct my life.  Just because I am not totally secure doesn't mean I have less worth, or that I am not good enough.  When I do feel insecure, I can't look outside to fix it.  I need to turn inward, and tell myself the truths I know but sometimes don't feel.

My truths are: I am a good parent.  My daughters are happy, healthy, decent humans.  I am a good teacher.  My students learn, grow and achieve.  (They like me, most of the time too.) I am a good partner, and I have a lot to give. I am a good friend.  I love my friends fiercely and give them what I have.  I am happy, despite my struggles.  I live a full, wonderful life.  I am a good writer.  My words are neither trite nor trivial, and on top of that, they are true. 

So, am I ever insecure?  A resounding yes!  But, that doesn't mean that I'm not okay, or worthy, or acceptable.  I am all of these things.  We are all of these things.  My positive words should outweigh my negatives, and this helps me to move forward.  A little insecurity is actually a good thing, and it doesn't have to cut you down.  It can't change your worth.

Body Un-Image

Body Un-Image

When's the last time you looked in the mirror and liked what you saw?  I've wrestled with my image since I can remember.  But haven't we all?  Every woman I know, whether overtly or not, struggles with their own self-image.  I've written about this topic more times than I can remember and this post, apparently, is no exception.

We are programmed to find ourselves unacceptable.  We see images of what we 'should be', what is good, beautiful and acceptable.  We fight it, and our minds tell us we are worthy, we are beautiful and we are acceptable, but the bombardment of what we should be is always lurking behind our best intentions, like a sinister devil on the shoulder putting negative words in our minds.  The strong self can often hold the shadows at bay, but eventually the shadows crack our armor.

That's because the cracks come from within.  The shadows lurk on the inside of us, not the outside.  They've been bred into us from birth, by the fact that we silently, unwittingly fall into predetermined gender roles and rules about how we should present ourselves to the world.   Think about how you role played as a child.  Think about the movies, cartoons, toys.  Think about the colors you wore and the clothing that was available to you.  We have silently perpetuated the shadows, and now they live within.  What's within is what comes out in advertising, fashion, and the patriarchal society we still fight against.

So, if what is within is reflected on the outside and made manifest in society, what can we do but beat our heads against the wall in futility? It all starts with the individual and then spreads through the rest of us.  Perhaps, if we all do our small part, maybe we can affect some kind of change.

First, we must change on the inside.  We must change the way we think.  We must change the way we talk to ourselves.  We must change the way we present the world to our children.  We must stop sabotaging ourselves.

I'm the prime example of a self-saboteur.  I've lost 20 pounds and I promised myself the last time I lost a lot of weight that I wouldn't allow myself to go back.  But, I did.  And I hated myself for it.  I'm trying to untangle my twisted relationship with negativity by replacing the searing thoughts with praise for what I've accomplished.  But, why do I need to lose weight in the first place?  What I tell myself and everyone else is that I want to live longer, healthier, and happier.  However, could my real motivation be from the norm that my gender is subject to?  When I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, when I see a photo of myself in a bathing suit, I judge.  I find all my faults.  I see that even though I've lost 20 pounds, I am still not at the standard of beauty society holds me to - the standard I hate that I also accept and embrace.  I have this constant, gross battle going on inside my head.

"You are beautiful no matter what size you are."

"You're still 30 pounds heavier than you should be."

"You have come so far, and you are so healthy."

"You have so far to go, and you're not there yet."

"You have only one body, and you're going to treat it well and live in it for a very long time."

"Your body is always going to be unacceptable, no matter what you do."

UGH.

I am tired of this.  Aren't you?  How can we break this cycle? Here it is - we must stand up against our inner shadows, and the ones that still bombard us from outside.  It's time to reprogram our thinking.  Instead of a negative, replace it with several (I mean, quite a few, because it takes that many to cancel out the negative) positives.  I know that I am worthy, and beautiful and acceptable.  I don't have to let anyone else, including the entirety of the patriarchy, tell me that I'm not.  Only I can allow that.  Only I can set my value.  There is not another living soul who can do that.

So here it is - my battle is yours.  We are all in this together.  By writing this, I wrestle with my own demons, in hopes that others can overpower their own.

So next time you look at yourself in the mirror and find yourself unacceptable, remember that you are the only one who can change that.  You must reprogram your inner dialogue and replace the negative thoughts with more powerful positives.  Here are mine:  I am beautiful.  I am healthy.  I am being proactive about my health, and that is the best thing I can do for myself.  This body really is the only one I will ever get, so I better treat it well, and love it.  Inner saboteur, go fuck yourself.

When I have nothing to say.

I've been suffering with a serious lack of something to say.  I've got three half finished blog posts that have gone completely unpublished.  I've got an inkling of an idea bouncing around inside my head like a lopsided rubber ball, and I just can't get it all out.  So.  I thought I should write about the fact that I have nothing to say!

I have been off work for a few weeks, and you'd think that would give me a ton of time to iron out my convoluted thoughts.  Apparently not.  Do you ever get the sensation that you're banging your head against the wall?  I feel like this, utterly and completely.  Every so often, the impact will knock a word or two loose, but none of them can be strung together into a coherent thought.

Why, why, why?

Here's my self-diagnosis (what a narcissistic thing this can be...).  I haven't had a moment to recharge.  I am a total introvert and I spend a very long time inside my head on a daily basis.  That generally takes place during my long commute to and from work every day, and at the end of the day when I can grab savored moments to myself during a long walk or something quiet.  On vacation, I am busy having fun (oh the horror!) and not so busy being quiet.  Quiet is my fuel, and fun, apparently, my kryptonite. Ha!  How ridiculous is that?

I love spending time with friends, family and my children.  I love laughing, engaging in good conversation.  I love long days with amazing people.  But all of these things take a lot out of me.  They leave me with random rubber ball words that make no sense, until I take a few moments to sink in to the rapture of quiet.

Isn't it a strange thing, that when I partake in my quiet, the words come out?  Isn't it a strange thing that as an introvert, I relish in publishing my thoughts?  Such a contradiction. But isn't life a series of hilarious contradictions?  Like, doing nothing makes me flourish.  Like, when I sit in the dark, things come alight?

I've been learning a lot about personality traits like introversion and extroversion in the past few years, which has deepened my knowledge about myself immensely.  However, I still forget sometimes.  I often to get to a place where I find myself short-tempered, irritated by things that don't usually ruffle my feathers and generally unhappy.  Then, every time, it hits me that I haven't spent any time alone in days, and I see my solution.  It's my solution, every time.

How easily we get wrapped up in ourselves and forget ourselves at the same time.  Again, hilarious contradictions.  Life.

On Being a Young Woman

"Slut."

"Whore."

"Cunt."

"She's only hanging out with you because she wants your dicks."

"You're so skinny.  Are you anorexic?"

"Are you a boy?"

And other expletives and remarks she doesn't want to tell me about or repeat.

This is the constant barrage of comments that my thirteen year old daughter has faced in her seventh grade year at school.  Do you remember words like these, when they pierced your hearts and broke your fragile self esteem?  Do you still carry the cuts and wounds left behind by words like this in your formative years?  Do your scars show in your daily life now?  I know mine do.  More often than not, they take the form of self-loathing and self-imposed body shaming - that age old feeling of not good enough.

And now, my first of two daugters, a strong, smart, beautiful young woman coming into her own, must deal with the same.

I once hoped society could change.  That my generation was going to parent their kids better.  That my generation would teach our girls to walk in their power and the boys not to be intimidated by powerful women, but to stand powerfully together as humans.  I feel the sense of optimism I used to have vanish with every single story my daughter tells me.  She has been slut shamed, body shamed and gender shamed.  She has been sexually harrassed.  She has had an attempt of physical assault on her by a boy (the same damn one) twice in two years.  I thank god every day I have taught her to be strong and unapologetic of her body, mind and strength.

But even the strongest woman can be whittled down to nothing. And so I sit here with my "what ifs", and she comes back at me with her "I'm strong enoughs" and we are at an impasse.  I can't shelter her from the ugliness of the world. and I shouldn't.  I want to protect her from the words that display the fact that patriarchy is alive and well, but I can't.  And I won't.  She will hear worse, and she needs to know how to deal with it.  I have heard worse, and I know there is more to come.  What do I do now? I allow her to be open and honest about what happens, and I don't freak out.  (Inside, I am raging, but on the outside, I must appear in a monk-like calm.) She needs to be able to tell me when people call her a slut or try to shame her because she makes her own choices.  She needs to be able to have a strong woman hear her, listen to her and empower her.

I can't fight her battles for her.  I have to counter these words, these knives spit at her by young men who are afraid of her female power, with words of strength, so she can fight her own battles and stand courageously in the face of adversity.

"You own your body, and no one can take that from you."

"Your power cannot be diminished by anyone but yourself."

"Their words hurt, but they don't have to destroy."

"I am evidence of their inability to retain control of us."

Because, dear daughter, it will get worse.

But....

You are more powerful and you will stand in your power.

And perhaps, when she does, when they all do, the future will be better after all.

My Own Skin

I have always been "a big girl" in my own mind. I may or may not be one in real life.  I'm pretty average for a thirty-something year old woman.  I've gained and lost, gained and lost, and gained again.  I'm in the process of losing again, and really hoping I've got my head around living a sustainable and healthy life.  But through all of this, one thing keeps nagging in the back of my mind.  That thought is that my body is unacceptable to the world, and therefore it is unacceptable to me.  I'll tell you how I know this.

First, as a young woman, I was taught to cover my body up.  I was told, in words and in actions, that my exposed skin was shameful, ugly and dirty.  If I wore a skirt that was too short, it was met with comments about how I would be perceived, whether it made me into an object to boys, or as 'slutty' or cheap.  I stopped wearing skirts.  If it wore a top that showed my stomach, I was told to cover up so as to not invite unwanted attention or advances.  Cover up or someone will hurt you.  (And it'll be your own fault, you know, as sexual assault always is.)

I was also told that my body wasn't good enough.  My thighs rubbed together when I walked.  Why couldn't I just lose a little weight there?  I would look so much better.  My body didn't belong to me.  I was harassed by boys and men alike for the curves I was developing, and so I covered them up.  Baggy pants, baggy shirts, lots of layers - these were my armor.  Cover up or you're open to criticism.  Cover up too much, and you get more criticism. 

My body has done a great many things for me, including keeping me alive and giving two beautiful children to the world.  As an adult, I tried really hard to shut out the world's idea of what my body should be and marveled in what it could do.  It was really eye-opening.  But then came the time when I had to go out, go to the swimming pool, dress up for a function.  Clothes didn't fit well.  They never really had, considering my curves never allowed me to just be one size, but after having kids, it was thrown much more askew.  Wear a two piece bathing suit after having had children and watch the looks you get at the pool.  Yes, I have stretch marks, and my lumps and bumps are hard to hide.  But man did I try to hide them.  The world told me I should, because the only pictures I had ever seen of women in bathing suits were ones who had no lumps and bumps and stretch marks.  Okay, world.  You're telling me to cover up.  I get it. You can turn your incredulous eyes away while I cover up again.  Sorry I offended your idea of what my body should be.

There is nothing in this society that has told me that my body is acceptable.  Not. One. Thing.  It is fodder for criticism everywhere I turn.  Wear something too revealing in your late thirties and you are judged.  Wear something too baggy and frumpy and you are judged.  Show it, hide it, live in it fat or skinny or somewhere in the middle, and you are judged. 

Well, I want to come to a place in my life where I give less fucks about what the world thinks about my body.  I can look hot at size 14 and size 4.  I can push two kids out of my vagina and still have sex appeal, feel attractive and be attractive.  I don't want to care if you, the world at large, find my body unacceptable in a two-piece bathing suit.  I want to feel the sun on my skin.  I want to look in the mirror and understand that my own skin is beautiful.  It tells the story of my life.  It shows me what I am capable of.  It shows me that it can do a great many things if I treat it well, and will continue to be loyal to me to the end.  So, shouldn't I love my own skin too?  Shouldn't I tell the damn world it doesn't own my body, and that it is my gift?  Shouldn't I stop criticizing every lump, bump, curve and mark (as the world is wont to do) and instead see if for what it is?  It is a trophy.  It is a story.  It is a life lived and being lived. 

So, here it is.  This is my resolution.  Stop finding myself unacceptable.  Stop berating myself and let my skin breathe.  Wear what I want, when I want.  Be free of the constraints put on me, woman, by the world.  You can't tell me I am not beautiful.  It is not my fault if you look at me inappropriately.  It is not my fault if you think I don't conform to the aesthetic this world believes in.  Screw you.

Here's to starting to find my own skin acceptable.  Only I get to decide that.