A Glimpse of Sunlight (*NEW*)

A Glimpse of Sunlight

Rain falls in torrential downpours

Thunder and lightning

All night and all morning long

The deep gray dark outside

Reflected in my mind

Body

Heart

And soul

It feels like it has always been this dark

Like it will always be this dark

Even though I’ve been here before

And I know it never lasts forever

“This too shall pass”

The dark is so pervasive that it feels permanent

This time

Every time

But then…

A tiny glint of sunlight peeks through the gray

Slowly growing

Until it shines so brightly it’s almost blinding

My eyes blink, unaccustomed to the light

Raindrops glisten on the window screen 

Like stars in the daytime

And in my mind

Body

Heart

And soul

Light returns.

Hope returns.

And the feeling that maybe

Not now, but eventually

Everything will be okay. 

Made of Love (*NEW*)

Made of Love

All my life, I have loved Deeply Fully With my entire being

When I was 15, you told me I was wrong

“You’re too affected by this”

“It’s not a big deal”

“It’s just a game”

(The game of baseball, which was my source of life energy, the fuel for my soul

And the first deep love that taught me everything I know)

So I stopped talking about it

To you, to friends, to everyone

I understood that nobody would understand

So I kept it inside

But my love is too big to hold inside

And I was not wrong

You were wrong.

But still to this day, your words persist

And I struggle to talk about

The things that are most important to me

Because I know that like you, people won’t understand

They will tell me that I’m wrong

That I should stop, or turn it down

That I should love less (as if I could)

And still that love grows inside me

Until it can’t help but explode out

And only now am I finding my people

Who understand how deep it goes

Who understand that even though

It may not look like what society teaches us “love” is

It is still love

And it is a deeper love than most people will ever experience.

All my life, I have loved this deeply.

People tell me it’s too much

Life experience tells me it’s not enough

And still I keep loving

Loving hard, loving strong, loving deep

It’s all I know

Maybe it’s because my brain is wired differently

But it is the deepest, core, defining part of what makes me me.

It is my greatest strength

It’s what I have to offer

It is my superpower

And I love it

No matter what anyone says

I will continue to love

Hard, and strong, and deep

Even if it’s too much

Even if it’s not enough

Even if people understand

Even if people don’t

This is when I feel most fully myself

This is what I return to when I’m floundering

To feel like me again

This is what I can do, and give, and be

This is what I love most about myself

My favorite thing about me

And I will never stop.

This is my superpower

The best part of me

It is what defines me

All my life, I will love

Deeply

Fully

With my entire being

This is who I am.

Untitled (*NEW*)

Untitled New Poem

I decided not to be a psychologist, therapist, counselor Because I can’t keep other people’s big feelings from impacting my own But now all my friends struggle with depression And I’m the one who always pulls them back from the edge And sometimes all of them come to me at the same time I have extreme emotional empathy And I’m hurtling towards burnout But I can’t stop Can’t take a break Because I love them, and they need me, and WHO ELSE will be the one To talk them off the ledge and keep them here I’m so afraid of failing That I won’t be enough this time That I won’t be able to juggle all of them at once Or I’ll crash and burn before I can keep them all from falling I’ve done this SO. MANY. TIMES. Why does everyone always come to me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored And so grateful that they trust me Like I must be doing something right Even though I don’t know what I’m doing, and it’s all instinct And reacting to emotional cues With emotional empathy And compassionate empathy (the need to DO something to help) And this is something I can ACTUALLY DO (And maybe something I’m actually good at?) So I can’t stop won’t stop refuse to ever stop Even if I go down in spectacular burnout flames Because I need this as much as they do And that scares me the most.

Musings: On (Un)masking

I just had an epiphany in the shower, so I had to come write it down before I can sleep (so I don't forget it), even though it's 1:00 am and I have to get up in 5 hours.  Hopefully this will be somewhat coherent, but if not, that's why!

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this in here before, but I'm recently self-diagnosed autistic.  I was having a conversation with a friend earlier tonight about high school, and masking (if you don't know what autistic masking is, look it up!) in high school.  I mentioned that I was very heavily masked throughout high school, and that thought continued into this:

I started really masking in middle school.  Nobody "got" me, so I stopped trying to explain myself, and just started hiding all the parts of myself that people didn't understand.  But what I just realized is that a lot of people mask to fit in.  I didn't mask to fit in.  I masked to not stand out.  I essentially made myself invisible, and I did it REALLY well.  I spent all of high school, and a lot of my life since then, being intentionally invisible.  But now, as I'm starting to try to unmask, I'm noticing that it kind of backfired, because I am really triggered by being - you guessed it - invisible.  When my kids ignore me when I talk to them (I mean full on ignore me, like don't respond, or look at me, or acknowledge in any way that I'm speaking to them), I immediately react with anger.  There's no buildup, I just explode right away.  For the longest time, I've thought I was a bad parent for not being able to control my reaction enough to at least say it nicely first.  Now I understand - it's TRIGGERING me.  I spent so long trying to be invisible.  Now all I want is to be seen, and accepted, and loved for ME, for who I really am (whoever that is).  But I don't know how to do that, or even to convince my brain (which I've trained so well to mask for invisibility) that I am worthy of that, or that anyone even would, or COULD react to me in that way.

I've been really struggling this weekend with my brain spending every moment that I'm not actively engaged in conversation with someone trying to bully me into believing that everyone secretly hates me, and rehashing everything I've said or done that might be perceived in a negative way over and over and over again.  I'm pretty sure this is all related.  My brain has been SO thoroughly trained to make me invisible that when I do anything that would counteract that, anything that would lead to me being seen, noticed, PERCEIVED...it rebels against it.  It's trying to protect me the only way I've taught it how.  And while that served its purpose in middle school, and high school, and at various points along the way since, it's the opposite of helpful in this unmasking journey.  

I really believe that this might be the biggest hurdle I face in unmasking, and I feel like I'm constantly taking two steps forward and three steps back with it.  I don't see it resolving anytime soon (my brain is SO stubborn), and I'm not sure how to retrain my brain when this is so deeply entrenched.  But I do feel like realizing and understanding this is a breakthrough of sorts.  It's the first step to changing it.  So I'll keep trying, and maybe one day, my brain will allow me to drop the invisibility cloak for good and be seen, accepted, and loved.  Maybe.  In the meantime, the struggle continues.  Unmasking is hard. 

Tangible Proof: An Anxiety Poem (*NEW*)

Tangible Proof: An Anxiety Poem

"It will be okay.  Everything will be fine."
How the fuck do you know?
You can't see how this ends any more than I can
So your empty words mean nothing
As I spiral down
Down
Down
Kicking and screaming into the darkness
Twisting tighter and tighter to the brink of explosion
One single point of focus
The answer I need
Somewhere out of reach, beyond the dark.

Trapped in a room with no doors
Or windows
I frantically search the walls with my fingers, seeking any little crack
Through which a tiny breath of air
A tiny hint of secondhand proof
Might trickle into the desperate cyclone of my mind
And buy me a few precious seconds of respite
Before it consumes me completely.

But even if I find that crack
And catch my breath for just a second
The effect is temporary, fleeting
And the swirling vortex quickly swallows me again
Desperately seeking the only true solution
The ultimate resolution
Because anxiety requires tangible proof to stop.

(Note: This poem was inspired by a truism that I stumbled upon in conversation with a friend, which ended up being the last line of the poem.  I wrote most of this back in September, when my anxiety got really bad.  Things have been much better since then, but the unfinished draft was driving me nuts just sitting there for 3 months, lol, so I decided to go ahead and finish it.  I'm not totally satisfied with how it turned out - it feels clunky to me, like I can tell it was written at two different times.  Maybe I'll come back and tweak it next time my anxiety flares up.  For now, at least it's finished!)

Musings: On New Years

 New Years has always been my favorite holiday.  I've always loved the feeling of a new beginning, a clean slate, where no matter what happened the previous year, anything and everything is possible.  There have been a couple of exceptions, when I've had a really good year (2012 and 2015, I'm looking at you), and I didn't want the year to end, because the new year couldn't possibly measure up (and in both cases, that was absolutely correct), but for the most part, I look forward to New Years every year.

Until this year.  It's December 27th, and I am having extremely mixed feelings about New Years.  2022 has been a generally craptacular year, but it's had some really important positive moments, too.  For the past couple of days, I've been trying to sort through these emotions I'm having about New Years, and this morning, I stumbled across a facebook memory that made things a little more clear.  This is from 6 years ago, December 27, 2016.

2016 was a really horrible year, especially for my anxiety.  It did not let up until the very, very end, when the clock struck midnight, and the year was finally over.  I remember getting angry when people would say the year was "almost over" in those last couple of weeks, because the way that year was going, it was "almost over" at 11:59 pm on December 31st, and not one minute sooner.  I feel like a lot of people learned that lesson that year (which was validating to me, as I'd learned it YEARS before, and felt like people were always dismissive of my "paranoia" - but "it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you"!).  But what struck me about that post today was something different: the difference between 2016 and 2022.

2022 hasn't been great for my anxiety either.  But 2016 was PREDICTABLE.  In 2016, the anxiety was so prevalent, and so constant, that I knew beyond any doubt that I needed that year to END.  There was NO part of me that wanted it to keep going, because it was consistently doing the same thing over and over.  2022, on the other hand, while there's been a lot of bad stuff, and a lot of anxiety-heavy days/weeks, hasn't had quite as consistent a pattern.  Despite all the crap, I've been on this crazy journey of self-discovery this year.  I'm learning so much about myself, understanding myself better, and connecting with amazing new friends who really GET me.  I'm returning to parts of myself that have been buried for SO long, parts that were once integral to my identity, and are becoming so again.  I don't want that to end (and I know logically that a new year doesn't mean abandoning everything from the previous year and starting from scratch, but the symbolism of a new beginning is SO strong for me that it kind of feels like that).

Also, 2022 feels unfinished to me.  There are a lot of loose ends that won't be tied up by the end of the year, and I don't like non-ending endings.  Again, there's no logical reason why a new year would necessarily mean that those threads would be cut and never be able to be tied up in the future, but the symbolism of New Years is SO deeply rooted in my psyche that it does feel that way to some extent, and that makes me uncomfortable and a little anxious.  I'm not ready to cut those threads.

I also feel like I'm going into 2023 completely blind.  Some years, I have a strong gut feeling that it will be a good year (2012 and 2015, I'm looking at you again), and when I do, I'm always right.  Some years, I have a gut feeling that it'll be a bad year (2016 and years that end in 9, I'm looking at you), and when I do, I'm always right.  Most years, I don't have a gut feeling at all, and this is one of those years.  If I really focus, I can sense a generally positive feeling about 2023 WAY deep down...but it's very quiet and subtle, and it's not strong enough for me to trust it, because if I have to look that hard for it, it feels forced, and not like a true gut feeling.  There's so much that could be amazing about 2023.  And there's also so much that could be a complete disaster, worse than 2022, 2016, or any one of those years ending in 9.  It could go either way, or both at the same time (or neither, I guess, I don't know).  I just feel like I have no idea what 2023 is going to do, and that leaves me feeling unsettled and a little anxious.

Only time will tell what 2023 will bring.  But in the meantime, my feelings about 2022 coming to an end and 2023 beginning will remain a mixed bag.

September 11, 2001

 September 11, 2001

Bright blue sky
Sun shining
Golden silence

CRASH!
Shattered silence
Shattered lives
Shattered hopes
Shattered dreams
Shattered.

The Aftermath
Gray
Smoke
Screams
Debris everywhere
Dust fills the air
No room to breathe
A city stifled
A nation stifled
Freedom stifled
Snuffed out by the flaming ash
The foundations
Of a nation
Shaken to the core

(*Note: I wrote this poem at 10:35 pm on September 11, 2001.  I was two weeks into my freshman year of college, my first time away from home.  Thousands of miles away, worrying about friends and family members in NY and DC.  This event absolutely shaped my generation, as we ventured through the cusp of adulthood in its immediate aftermath.  I feel like this poem is one of my better ones, especially considering that I was only 17 when I wrote it.  Today feels like the right day to share it.)

Musings: On Love (In All Its Forms), or A Letter To My 16-Year-Old Self

It has been 7 years this week since my pilgrimage to my own personal Mecca: the Baseball Hall of Fame.  But not just the Hall of Fame itself.  I was there for one thing, and one thing only.  My favorite player's induction ceremony.  Whenever I tell people about it, they're all like, "oh, that's awesome!"  Other baseball fans say things like, "I really want to go there one day!" or "I went in X year(s)!"  All of that is great, but...it's really missing the point of what this trip actually was for me.

Baseball was my first real passion in life.  It was a part of my life since I was too young to remember, but I really came back to it when I was 12, on my own terms.  It was never "just a game" to me.  It was so, SO much more.  And my favorite player?  That was my first experience with love.  It's not romantic love, or even platonic love...it's its own version of love that I haven't come across a label for.  And because of that, people generally don't get it.  I learned a long time ago not to try to talk to people about it, because I got ridiculed and dismissed so many times.  People are quick to minimize things they don't understand.  My favorite little philosopher, Linus Van Pelt (from Peanuts), once said, "There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin."  Everyone has their own "Great Pumpkin", and this is mine.  But despite what everyone tried to tell me...everything I felt was valid, and it was REAL.  Love is love is love, no matter what it looks like, or if you understand it.  It just IS.

So, to my 16-year-old self, who really struggled with the constant invalidation of the most important thing in her life...and for anyone else who might be similarly struggling, at any age...this is for you.

Dear 16-year-old Tara,

I see you.  I see you feeling all of these HUGE feelings, and feeling like you don't know where it's safe to express them.  I see you trying to compare and fit this into the schema that society has created for what you KNOW in your core that this is.  I see you hiding.  I see you minimizing yourself.  I see you feeling trapped, like no one understands, like there's nowhere for it to go.  I see you.

I know it's hard.  It will keep being hard, and it will even get harder at times.  This passion, this love that you feel, it will break you.  It will cause you to lose yourself completely, and it will take YEARS to start finding yourself again.  But it's worth it.  It's worth every second, because it is REAL. It is valid.  YOU are valid.  Don't let anyone (or everyone) tell you otherwise.  You deserve better.  And someday, you will find your people.  People who, even if their own experiences are slightly different, really do GET it, and will support you and encourage you and love you for it.

Your experience is 100% valid.  Just because it doesn't look like what everyone thinks love is supposed to look like doesn't mean they're right and you're wrong.  It is REAL.  You KNOW it's real, in that place deep inside that drives you and makes you YOU.  You can feel it there already, and you know what it is.  You are valid.  It is real.  It is love.

I know right now it feels like a bad thing.  To feel so much, so strongly, and to feel like nobody will ever understand.  I know you wish you could be "normal", and you so badly need just one person who will see you and hear you and KNOW this part of who you are.  Someday, you will realize (and somewhere deep inside, you already know this)...it's a GOOD thing.  It's what makes you YOU.  You care, and love, and FEEL this on a level that most people will never experience.  It's deep, and it's true, and it's REAL.  This is your gift.  Hold onto it, nurture it, even when the world tries to break it.  To break YOU.  Don't let them.  You KNOW who you are.  It's okay.  It's valid.  It's real.  And it's GOOD.  Stay good.  Stay YOU.  I love you.

Love,
38-year-old Tara

My Life as a Weird Extended Metaphor (*NEW*)

My Life as a Weird Extended Metaphor

Me: It's been almost two and a half years stuck in this long, dark tunnel of pandemic parenting, and for the last six months or so, I've had to watch everyone else move on while I'm still stuck.  I'm so exhausted and burnt out.  THROW ME A FRICKIN' BONE, HERE.

The Universe: Oh, you mean this bone? *holds up the exact bone I would choose if I could pick one myself*

Me: OMG, yes, PLEASE, that's perfect!  

The Universe: Okay.  I guess you can have it.  Soon.  But first, you have to figure out how to get it.

Me: Okay, yes, I will do that. *spends weeks figuring, reconciling, deciding, planning, etc.*

Me: Okay, I've got it all figured out!  Finally!

The Universe: Great.  Come with me, we're going on a little field trip.  Consider it a preview.

Me: Okay!  Yes!

*The Universe takes me to the dog park, dangles the bone in front of me, then throws it into the fenced area, where all the other dogs immediately pounce on it and start happily playing with it.  We sit and watch them for a little while.*

Me: Awwww, this is awesome!  Look how happy they all are!  And that bone is so sparkly and perfect!  

The Universe: Yeah, it's pretty great, huh?  Okay, I think we're done here.

*The Universe takes me back home.*

Me: That was amazing!  I'm so excited for my turn to play with the bone!

The Universe: ...

Me: ...what?

The Universe: Hahahahaha...I was totally just kidding.  NOPE.  No turn for you.  LMAO! 

Me: ...

Me: Well, that tracks.  Welcome to my life.

*I crawl sadly back into my crate, turn around a few times, then lie down and curl up to wait for the end of this long, dark tunnel...which I have to get to eventually, right?...and dream about the other dogs playing happily with the bone.*

THE END

(Note: This is the first new piece of writing I've done that's not a poem, but also isn't musings.  I'm not sure how to categorize it, but it's how the format presented itself in my mind, so that's how I wrote it.  This is a metaphorical version of the real sequence of events in my life recently.)

Musings: On "Go Mode"

In 2015, I went to John Smoltz's Hall of Fame induction ceremony.  I was 6 months pregnant, and we drove all the way from Atlanta to upstate New York, and sat outside in the late July heat the whole time.  I had been waiting/planning for that moment for more than half my life, and I wouldn't have missed it for ANYTHING.  From the minute I found out it was happening, I was SO excited, thrilled, GIDDY with anticipation.  I had a running countdown for MONTHS.  It was the culmination of so many years of passion...and also a re-awakening of sorts, after that part of me was broken six years earlier.  It was SO emotional for me.  The anticipation and buildup was INTENSE.  I cried a lot, both happy and sad tears.  But mostly I was just so grateful to actually realize this dream I'd had for so long.

Then...we got there.  And I. Felt. NOTHING.  The entire weekend.  It was like I was just going through the motions of doing whatever was next on the agenda.  It felt like I missed out on what should have been one of the best days of my life.  And the emotion never showed up.  Even after we got home, and I had time to process everything that we did, I never FELT what I knew I should have felt.

This is what I've come to call "Go Mode".  When I'm put in a situation that evokes a Big Emotional Reaction, the anticipation and buildup is when I lose my shit.  I feel ALL THE FEELINGS in the days, weeks, months leading up to whatever it is.  And then when I get there...that part of me shuts itself off, and the part of me that is functional and productive takes over.  It's a coping/defense mechanism that I've had for years.  I had just never seen it happen in a positive context before.  It's the same thing that happens when I have to do something that triggers my anxiety.  It's helpful in those situations, because I can actually Do The Thing without having a panic attack or a total emotional breakdown in the moment.  All of those things happen during the anticipation period instead.

Last night, my friend and I watched the season 4 finale of The Magicians.  This is a spoiler-free zone, but all I'll say is that this is a DEEPLY emotional episode, and when it first aired, it caused a massive rift in the fandom, and the effects of it are still ongoing three years later.  It's BIG.  The first two times I watched it, I got really sad/mildly depressed.  The third time, I got SUUUUUUUPER rage-y.  I wasn't sure what to expect this time.  I've had a LOT going on at once this week (and next week, for that matter), and I've sort of been all over the place emotionally.  I had a whole plan in place for what I would do after we watched to help me regulate myself back to some kind of stability.  I was worrying and anticipating it for DAYS.  So we finally watched...and I. Felt. NOTHING.  Sure, I ugly cried (snot and all), and sobbed so hard I hyperventilated DURING the episode.  But as soon as it was over, I was...totally fine.  No big sads, no rage, nothing.  At first I was super confused.  This had never happened before.  I tried to figure out what the heck was going on, but I still didn't really know.  Then, this morning, it clicked.  I was in Go Mode.  I got SO worked up about it ahead of time that when it came time to actually watch it, my body kicked into Go Mode, and I didn't even realize it.  I'm not happy about this development.  I'd rather FEEL something.  I'd rather be sad.  I'd even rather be rage-y (well...maybe not that).  I'd rather not feel like I'm missing out and experiencing my life as an observer rather than a participant.

The problem with Go Mode is that I'm not in control of it.  It activates by itself (it's not a conscious decision), and I don't know how to turn it off.  So when it happens, it happens, and there's nothing I can do about it.  I'm really worried that it's going to happen again next week, when I have something really exciting and special coming up (I'll probably write more about that after it happens).  I don't WANT to miss these things!  I don't WANT to be an observer in these moments.  I want to FEEL it, deep in my soul.  I want to feel ALL of it.  Because that's who I am.  I feel things to the core of my being, in ways that most people don't understand.  I just want to be that version of me.  That's when I am my truest self.  That's what I want.  That's what I need.  And Go Mode blocks me from accessing that.

Musings: On Being "The Responsible One"

I have been "the responsible one" since I was a little kid.  I've always been a rule follower, I've had an overdeveloped guilt complex since the age of 6, and as I got older, my anxiety never allowed me to really even consider stepping off the straight and narrow path.  As an adult, I still function the same way.  I am, by default, the one in charge of keeping my household running smoothly, making sure everyone gets everything done on time and gets where they need to be when they need to be there.  I am the advance planner, the one who stays on top of the calendar, who knows what's happening when, and reminds everyone of what they need to be doing.  Usually, this isn't a bad thing.  It keeps life running smoothly, keeps everyone functioning well, and I'm usually pretty much in control of the situation (which, as an anxiety-ridden control freak, is comforting to me).  But every once in a while, it becomes the worst kind of curse.

Recently, I learned about an opportunity that I've been hoping for for a while.  It's out of town, but it's within easy driving distance, and I have family nearby who I could stay with.  At any other time, it would be a no-brainer.  But...COVID.  Because my youngest still can't get vaccinated yet (and even if they approve the vaccine for the littles this month, she still won't be fully vaccinated by the time this event happens, because it's a three-dose series), we are still in pretty strict lockdown, and I can't justify going to an indoor event with so many people, especially since many of them probably won't even be wearing masks.  Obviously I would wear a mask the whole time, and limit my time there as much as possible.  But I don't know if that's enough.  I've been going back and forth, even asking the internet (via facebook and twitter) to weigh in with their gut instincts, "yes" or "no", with no background information.  The results I got were also almost 50/50.  I have talked specifically about it (with details) with four people.  Three said yes, one said no.

I feel like this is a test, but I don't know what I'm being tested on.  There are two possible things, and they are basically in direct opposition to each other in this instance.  So I really don't know what I'm supposed to do.  On the one hand, all the work I've been trying to do on myself tells me I should go.  If I don't go, I'm letting my anxiety win.  I'm letting it override what my heart tells me to do.  I'm holding myself back because I'm scared.  I always miss out on things that would probably be really good for me, because I make excuses and let my anxiety control my decision-making.  Part of what I've been working on is not getting in my own way so much, and not closing doors before they open.  Feel it, do it, be it.  Also, there's no guarantee that there will be other opportunities like this in the future.  I would regret it forever if I didn't go, and there ended up not being another opportunity.  Plus, it would be a real break from mom life (which I desperately need), and an opportunity for some fun bonding time with my sister-in-law.  On the other hand, knowingly doing something high risk that could make all of my efforts over the past 2+ years for nothing, and not doing everything I can to keep my kids safe (especially the little one, since she has no protection) is a risk I can't justify taking.  My husband says I should go.  He says that the risk of me catching Covid there is low, and even if I did, the risk of me getting it AND passing it to the kids is lower, and the risk of me catching it, passing it to the kids, AND it having some catastrophic outcome is even lower.  But even if the odds are one in a million, someone has to be that one.  And with my luck, it would probably be us.  And because of all the trauma I have from my last pregnancy, plus some other stuff from before that, that's a risk I'm not willing to take.

So I'm at an impasse.  One day I think I should go, the next I'm convinced I shouldn't.  I just go back and forth, and most of the time I'm stuck right in the middle.  The biggest problem I'm having with this is that I feel like in this particular instance, the anxiety I'm feeling is actually legit, and not my usual overblown sense of danger.  But on the other hand, if I don't go, I am sacrificing my own happiness and self-care for my kids, and I will resent that to some extent.  It's not logical, but I just know that what I feel about this opportunity (and all of the things that made me manifest it) is real, and it's me, and it's something I've been missing for SO LONG.  Like this piece of my core being that was lost (or stolen from me) is back, and I need to feed it, and nurture it, and give it the care it needs to survive.  I wish I had a crystal ball or something, so I could know the right decision to make.  If I could KNOW that my kid won't die if I go, or if I could KNOW that there will be another opportunity to do this sometime in the future when it's safer, then I could make a decision.

Even though it generally serves me pretty well, right now I just hate always being "the responsible one".  I hate that I can literally never turn it off.  Especially when I'm constantly seeing everyone else doing stuff, and I still can't allow myself ONE questionably irresponsible decision.  All my asking other people's opinions isn't going to help.  What I'm really looking for is for someone to give me permission to give myself permission to do this.  To tell me that it's okay to break out of the "responsible one" cage ONE TIME, and that it won't destroy my entire life.  But honestly, even if everyone told me that, I don't think I could trust it.  I am forever "the responsible one".  I can't be anything else.  And right now, it feels like a curse.  Constant vigilance is exhausting, and it's been over two years.  I am SO over it.  And I think this was just the straw that broke the camel's back.  I'm TIRED.  I'm frustrated.  I can't keep doing this.  I also don't really have a choice.  Something's gotta give.

(NOTE: I am holding off on making any actual decisions about this at least until we hopefully find out what's happening with the vaccines for the littles later this month.  I don't have to decide right now, I have some time to figure it all out.  I'm just tired and frustrated and OVER IT, and writing it out helps me release some of that frustration, and also sometimes helps me sort through my thoughts.  We'll see if it helps at all this time.)  

The Light at the End of the Tunnel (*NEW*)

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Darkness.
Stretching on for what seems like forever.
Reaching out to infinity in all directions.
I don't know if I am moving forward
Or just standing still
In this endless, pitch-black night.

Suddenly, it appears:
A blinding, brilliant flash of white
Somewhere in the distance in front of me.
(I can't tell how far.)
It hovers there, pulsing, twinkling,
Threatening to blink out again at any moment.
The light at the end of the tunnel.

This isn't the first time.
They've appeared before, but they never last.
Always fade and fizzle out before I can quite reach them.

I want so badly to grab this light.
To hold onto it with everything I have left.
Every last ounce of hope that my tired soul can muster.
But I'm terrified to try.
Too afraid to even acknowledge that this could actually be
The light at the end of the tunnel.
Terrified that if I name it,
Or allow myself to believe it,
It will blink out just as quickly as it appeared.
Just like all the other ones have.
Thrusting me back into the endless dark.

I can feel its pull
Drawing me in like a moth to a flame.
So desperate for something, anything
That can finally shatter this endless darkness
And bring me back into the light.
"Please," my mind shouts into the void,
"Please please please, please let this be the one.
The real one, the one that doesn't disappear
And leave me here.
I can't hold on much longer.
I need this."

Silently, my tears fall.
As I am consumed by hope and fear and desperation.
The light at the end of the tunnel.


(Note: This is my reaction to today's potential good news about a Covid vaccine for kids under 5 - which includes my almost-3-year-old.  It's been over two years that I've kept my family in strict lockdown.  We've sacrificed so much to keep all four of us safe and alive.  Jobs, friendships, socialization, education, enrichment...life.  As the rest of the world has returned to mostly "normal" the past few months, it's been even more isolating to continue our precautions, because for us, nothing has changed, but everyone else doesn't realize that, because they've already gotten back their lives.  I feel incredibly alone, overwhelmed, and so, so tired.  Constant vigilance is exhausting.  Survival mode is exhausting.  And it's not sustainable for over two years.  I need this so desperately.  WE need this so desperately.  PLEASE let it be real this time.  Please.)   

Musings: On Letting Yourself Feel Your Feelings

I've been seeing a lot of posts on the internet lately about feelings, and specifically about how to help children learn to manage their emotions.  The common theme is always, "encourage them to feel their feelings, validate them, and don't try to suppress them or brush them away with toxic positivity, etc."  News flash: THIS APPLIES TO ADULTS, TOO.  In reconnecting with the deeper-feeling parts of myself lately, I've experienced a lot of positive emotions.  Connection, passion, and that really deep love that you only get when you are fully connected and engaged.  But along with that come deeper negative emotions, too.  The anger I mentioned in my last post, to start with (and funny enough, this very applicable meme resurfaced in my facebook memories today):

I perpetually have very few spoons, but an almost unlimited supply of sporks.  Especially if someone unlocks my secret spork stash.  Which is what my last post on anger was about.  I was thinking about it more this morning, and I got this mental image of a whole army of spork-wielding fiends - in my head, it kind of looked like the Kakamora from Moana!  It made me smile.

About 8 or 9 years ago, a good friend lent me the Highly Sensitive People book that has the test in it to see if you might be an HSP.  It's something like 25 yes or no questions of the "does this statement apply to you?" variety, and according to the book, if you get 13 or more "yes" answers, you might be an HSP.  I got 23.  Out of 25.  My first reaction was to laugh, and then to say, "well, that explains a lot!"  As you can tell from my musings, I'm a huge psychology nerd.  I majored in psychology in college, and I still love reading and learning more about it.  I ultimately decided not to pursue a career in the field for several reasons, but one of the strongest reasons is because I feel other people's emotions as if they were my own.  I internalize EVERYTHING, and for my own mental health, I decided it wouldn't be a good idea to put myself in the position of constantly absorbing other people's struggles.  I still second-guess that decision sometimes.  But being empathic in that way, and being an HSP, also means that I have to be very careful about what media I allow myself to consume.  And limiting media consumption sometimes leads to trying to limit what emotions I expose myself to, and that leads to trying to limit the level at which I engage with my own emotions, especially negative ones.  I know this isn't healthy, or sustainable.  I'm working on it.

Last week, I read a post on tumblr that I really shouldn't have.  It set me OFF (and it was what ultimately triggered the anger that I tried to describe in my last post).  A few days later, a song that I associate very strongly with the subject of that tumblr post kept trying to get stuck in my head.  I spent a lot of time and energy trying to block it out with other songs, because I haven't been able to listen to that song without spiraling off into some DEEP negative emotions since that association formed.  I was successful that night.  But when I woke up the next morning, the song was already in my head.  So I finally said, "you know what?  If it's trying THAT hard to get in my head, maybe I should just let it."  So I tentatively let a few lines play in my head.  And you know what?  It was okay.  It made me sad, but I didn't spiral.  And after a little while, it went out of my head on its own.  I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out whether this meant that I've gotten to a better place with my emotions around it, or whether I was slipping into apathy again, which scares me more than anything else in this world.  Ultimately, I realized that it wasn't apathy, because I was still experiencing pretty strong emotional reactions to other things.

I typically have very weird and vivid dreams.  I don't always remember them, but I usually remember that I dreamed, even if I can't remember what they were.  I got to sleep in today, and when I first woke up, I wasn't dreaming, but I had a single image in my mind's eye (I don't think this has ever happened before).  I don't think it's a real image that exists in the world, just something my mind created, but it made me happy.  So I decided not to open my eyes, and maybe it would stick around for a little while.  I dozed off and woke up a couple of more times, and each time, the image remained.  When I eventually got up for real, I got online to check all of my various things.  There was a whole bunch of new stuff that all revolved around the same theme as the mental image that I woke up with, which is also the same theme as the association with the song from a few days ago, AND the same theme as the tumblr post that set off my spork rebellion.  I shouldn't really be surprised to see this particular synchronicity, because when something is the main focus of your time and attention, of course it pops up everywhere.  But the sheer quantity of related items that I saw in the first hour I was awake today made it really stand out.  So I started thinking about all of the related stuff from the past week or two, and I managed to get a song stuck in my head without even hearing it ("Hey Jude", in case you were wondering), because it kind of arose out of the themes of my train of thought.  The conclusion that I came to was that I need to let myself feel ALL of my feelings.  Trying to shut them out or brush them away doesn't work, because it doesn't make them go away, and they will eventually force their way to the surface anyway.  I already knew this, but I obviously needed the reminder.  The universe made this message very clear, and I am listening.  I'm trying.  It's going to be a messy process, but I am going to try my best to allow myself to feel the full extent of my emotions, and to express them freely (which is the part I struggle with most, because I've been burned A LOT in the past by people being dismissive and not understanding why things affect me so much).  

I know this is a huge part of this journey to reconnecting with myself, and becoming ME again.  I'm a little nervous, but I'm mostly really excited about it.  I want to be myself, and that means feeling too much sometimes, and expressing it in many ways.  Allowing myself to do that will be so freeing.  And for that, I can't wait!

Musings: On Anger, Passion, and To Kill a Mockingbird

It's really hard to make me angry.  I get annoyed or frustrated easily and often, but true anger is a rare occurrence for me.  I'm generally a very forgiving person (of others, not so much of myself), but there is a short list of what are, to me, unforgivable offenses.  If someone does one of the things on that list, they earn themselves a spot on my permanent shit list (which has exactly two people on it, to show how rare this really is), and I get ANGRY.  I mean INCENSED.  White hot fire angry.  Righteous anger at a grave injustice angry.  End of the world angry. 

What most of my unforgivable offenses list boils down to is gravely wronging or deeply hurting someone who is extremely important to me.  When I care that much, when I'm engaged and connected and passionate, I get very protective.  I see whoever or whatever the object of my passion is as inherently GOOD.  So to wrong them is to do a great injustice.  When that righteous anger really gets flowing, it brings out what I call my To Kill a Mockingbird defense.  There is a passage in To Kill a Mockingbird that always stuck with me:

"That was the only time I ever heard Atticus say it was a sin to do something, and I asked Miss Maudie about it.  'Your father's right,' she said.  'Mockingbirds don't do one thing except make music for us to enjoy.  They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corn cribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us.  That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.'"

To me, this has always rung true in its intended metaphorical sense.  Wronging people who are inherently good (mockingbirds) is a sin.  It's the ultimate sin against humanity.  Goodness is to be protected at all costs, and the To Kill a Mockingbird defense is my brain's way of reinforcing that.  

Of course, I'm usually not in a position to actually throw it at the offender.  In 2009, when my passion broke my heart, this consumed me.  I had no way of expressing my anger in any real way, or having any real impact on the situation.  I could talk to other people in my position, and they would sometimes agree with me, but they also had no agency in what was happening.  After many years, the white hot anger finally lessened to a low simmer (most of the time, unless something triggered it back into full force temporarily).  Since then, I've never been connected enough to or passionate enough about anything for that kind of anger to occur, and I had actually forgotten about it.  But now, as I'm reconnecting with the part of my core self that IS passionate, and DOES connect that deeply, I am also rediscovering my capacity for this intense anger, and the continued (maybe even strengthened?) resonance of the To Kill a Mockingbird defense.  I've been struggling with that a lot in recent days.  It's so powerful, and sometimes it can be overwhelming.  It can override all of my logical and other emotional parts of my brain, and it's very easy to get completely consumed by it.  But I'm trying to keep the perspective that it's a good thing, that this intensity of emotion and specifically anger means that I DO still have the capacity for that depth of passion and connection, and that I AM opening it up again, and that those parts of myself that I once thought were lost forever are still very much alive.  I'm still me.  I'm still a creature of pure emotion and passion, and I still exist from a place of so much love.  As long as you don't try to kill my mockingbirds.   

Musings: On the Role of Music in my Life

I've been really struggling with my mood this week.  It's been all over the place, and it feels like nothing I do keeps it stable for more than a short time.  Last night, I decided to forego working on my grandma's story in favor of watching one of my favorite movies, Empire Records.  I had used a gif from the movie earlier in the day, and it made me realize that I hadn't watched it in a really long time.  That movie always gives me a very specific kind of mood boost, and it was exactly what I needed right now.  After the movie ended, I needed more music.  So I turned on my Pandora station and rocked out for about an hour.  I've had my Pandora station for over a decade, and it's so well-honed that about 85% of what it plays is The Fray, Five for Fighting, and Coldplay.  It somehow always knows the perfect combination of songs to play for me, too.  Last night's selection included "Yellow," "Superman (It's Not Easy)," "The Riddle," and a live version of "The Scientist."  When I turned it off and went to bed, my mood had FINALLY stabilized, for the first time in a long time.

Before the pandemic, I got about two hours of music time during my commute every weekday.  I knew I missed that, but now I realize it's more than that.  I don't just miss it.  I need it.  Listening to music is how I process things.  It's gotten me through every hard time in my entire life.  But since I'm never in the car anymore, the only times I get to listen to music are on the rare family car ride (which are usually short), or when I have a song really stuck in my head, so I play it on youtube or whatever.  I haven't had a real, extended music session in months.  Last night, I realized that that's not enough.  I need more than one song, I need the random selection of the radio, and I need space to rock out in my own way, and I need an extended period of time to listen and feel the music.  I need to be better about making time for that going forward, because when I don't, I'm a mess.  Lesson learned.  And it's an important one.

The First Month of Junior Year

 The First Month of Junior Year

I return
To this place I've been yearning for
But it isn't the same
There's something missing
A hole
Emptiness

I walk through the same familiar places
See so many familiar faces
But it isn't the same
Emptiness

In chairs where you used to sit
Smiling up at me
Or the hallways we walked down together
Emptiness
Everywhere

I can't escape
Walking down the street, I see a car that looks like yours
I put my head down and walk faster
Before I start to cry

Everywhere and everything
It isn't the same
There's something missing
You.

Gradually I grow accustomed
Hang out with friends
Laughing, talking, giggling
(emptiness)
Making plans
Joking
Having fun

Daily life continues
Classes, reading, homework
(emptiness)
Learning and growing
The college experience

I walk around with a smile on my face
Saying "hello" to people I pass
Wishing that somehow it was you in front of me
Always with an encouraging smile
Brightening up my every day
With your presence

I go on with my life
Doing all the normal things
I am no longer depressed
And yet...
Still there is something missing
An emptiness in everything I do
It hides behind superficial happiness
But underneath, I am still yearning
To return home
Where the heart is
My heart is still with you.

(Note: This poem is dated September 29, 2003, about one month into my junior year of college.  It was written about a specific person at the time, but over the years, I've come back to it a few times in other situations, and it still seems to resonate in some ways.  I really love this one, I think it's one of the best I've ever written in terms of how well it expresses what I was feeling.  I have a LOT of poetry from this era of my life, and I've never shared most of it publicly before, because it's very personal and intense, and also because it was a complicated situation.  I'm not sure how much more of it I'll end up sharing here, but this one in particular has been screaming to be shared for a long time, so I'm excited to get it out there!) 

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Who am I?
I am whoever you make me out to be.
I am a figment of the world's imagination.
Nothing real.
No sense of self.
No me.
Nobody.
I am.

(Note: This is a poem I wrote in college, during a period of time when I was depressed and struggling to find...anything, really.  It's dated September 3, 2003, which puts it a couple of weeks into my junior year.  It actually resonated with me much more later on, in my mid-to-late-20s.  Anytime something keeps coming back like that, I know it hit on something true.  I really love this one!)

Musings: On Mental Health and Self-Destructive Tendencies

I crashed last night.  Not the hardest I've ever crashed, but a crash nonetheless.  I've known it was coming for a while.  I've kind of been waiting for it to happen.  Highs don't usually last as long as this one did (over three months!), and I could feel it slipping.  I'm also mad at myself, though, because I triggered it, and I purposely ignored the signs.  There's a reason why I tend to stick to the known, especially when it comes to entertainment/media.  I know how my brain and my body will react, because a) I've experienced it before, and b) I know exactly what's coming.  Especially during this pandemic, when my anxiety is perpetually at a higher baseline, I've tried to maintain constant vigilance about what I'm allowing myself to consume.  I'm not great at it, to be honest.  I've been doing a decent job of late, not opening the door for anything new, sticking to what I know.  But constant vigilance is exhausting, and sometimes I slip.  Sometimes I even slip on purpose, because my curiosity and my desire to FEEL THINGS overrides my defense mechanisms.  This happens for many reasons, but I think the biggest one is because the thing that scares me the most is apathy.  I'm such an emotionally-driven person, and when I start to lose my ability to feel, that's when I know things are really bad with my mental health, because that's my brain's last resort, fall-back defense.  I'm extremely thankful that I haven't crashed that hard this time (at least not yet).

I'm still angry with myself for letting this happen, though.  I saw all the signs.  Saw them, and ignored them, in favor of trying to perpetuate the Good Feelings as long as I could.  I know how my brain works.  I know that it latches onto things, especially things that are familiar.  I know that sometimes things that are intended to have one effect have a very different effect on me, because my brain interprets them in a different way.  I know that I'm a HSP (highly sensitive person) and an empath, and I know that I have to be especially careful with things that activate those aspects of myself, because they can (and usually do) spiral out of my control SO quickly.  I know these things, AND YET...I made the very conscious choice to ignore them.  I did this to myself. 

And now...how do I fix it?  How do I bring myself back up?  Obviously I need to take a break from the things I was doing that caused this shift.  But that doesn't change how I feel now.  My go-to is usually music.  But even with that, I have to carefully curate my playlist, because if I choose the wrong song, it could completely backfire and shove me even farther down.  It's like tiptoeing through a minefield.  And there are songs that I usually find comforting that I honestly don't know if they'd make this better or worse.  I guess I should just avoid them until I'm back on more solid emotional ground.  But I don't WANT to.  I still want to just dive in head first, consequences be damned.  Even though I know better.  Why?  Why can't I just do the smart thing and not actively make it worse for myself?  Why can't I just be patient and trust that when I do get myself back up out of this, I'll be able to enjoy those things again (although maybe a little more slowly and carefully)?  Anxiety is a b*tch.

(Note: The timing of this is really interesting, since May is Mental Health Awareness Month.  I hope that maybe putting this out there will help someone else who is struggling with these things, or with other mental health stuff.  We're never as alone as we feel.)  

Musings: On Passion and Life Lessons

 I've always experienced life as an observer, rather than a participant.  I spent all of middle school watching everyone around me form new friend groups and dip their toes into the dating world.  It was like watching a movie.  I didn't really feel left out, or mind at all.  I was curious, a captive audience.  The story continued through high school.  I never really had a "high school experience".  I watched everyone around me have one, and I was fascinated and invested in their stories.  But I never really had my own.  I never really felt like I wanted to be a part of it, I just enjoyed watching everyone else's stories unfold.  

I was always very passionate about my interests.  I basically have two levels of interaction with any given entity: uninterested, or completely obsessed.  There's never really been any middle ground.  But I learned very quickly that most people not only didn't share my depth of passion, but they didn't understand it.  They didn't understand how deep it ran, how all-consuming it was, how it was completely out of my control.  I got a lot of well-meaning comments and a few more pointedly dismissive ones, and learned that it wasn't safe for me to fully express my passion, to anyone.  So I stopped.  I kept as much of it as I could bottled up inside, so as not to annoy everyone around me, or make them worry about me.  I found outlets here and there, and when I ran out of people to talk to, I usually ended up in therapy, because that was a person who was literally being paid to provide a safe space for me to talk about my stuff.  This continued well into adulthood.  In the words of my favorite little philosopher, Linus Van Pelt from Peanuts, "there are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin."  Each of my passions became my own personal Great Pumpkin - the thing that was so important to me that I couldn't talk to people about it.

One of my outlets was always writing.  As a kid, I wrote little stories and poems, and even a song or two.  In college, I wrote a lot of poetry.  And then livejournal came along, and that became my writing outlet for everything, for about 10 years.

In 2009, one of my passions broke my heart.  It was the first and only time I've ever truly had my heart broken, and I had NO ONE to talk to about it who fully understood how deeply it affected me.  Not just my outward life, but every piece of the core of my being.  The people closest to me tried to be supportive and helpful, but they still didn't fully understand.  It broke me.  I slipped into depression and, even scarier to me, apathy.  I lost my passion, my connection to the world, my ability to feel.  I lost all the things that made me ME.  I lost myself.  And I stopped writing.  

It took a long time to start coming back.  Three years later, in 2012, I found a new potential passion.  I started to feel hopeful again, and was so relieved to know that I still had the capacity to feel deeply, buried somewhere deep inside me.  It was pretty short-lived, but at least I knew it was possible.  In 2015, I had the best year of my life to date, including a long-awaited event related to my first, deepest passion (the one that broke my heart 6 years earlier).  I felt hopeful and positive and happy...ish.  But I wasn't feeling any of it as deeply as I once had, and that was discouraging.  And I still had no inspiration to write.  None of it felt real, or permanent, like it once had.  It used to be my rock, my solid ground to stand on amid the swirling sea of life around me.  That no longer existed for me.  I was still adrift, and all of these fleeting things were like pieces of driftwood that I would hold onto for a little break from treading water, until they sank or floated away.

Flash forward to January 2022.  In the midst of year two of a global pandemic, when everything was chaotic and nothing felt solid, I had started watching a new-to-me tv show about a month and a half earlier, and I finally finished it.  The last two episodes changed my life.  I immediately rewatched the entire series in about two weeks (an unheard of binge level for me), and I was hooked.  I felt myself opening up in ways I hadn't in over a decade.  I started to reconnect with some core parts of myself that had been shut down for a long, long time.  One of those parts was my passion.  This felt solid and permanent in a way that nothing else had in all those years.  I latched on immediately, and clung more tightly than I ever had before.  I had found my rock again.

One of the biggest messages the show gave me was that if you feel passionate about something, if something or someone has an impact on your life, you have to express that.  You have to tell them.  It reignited the driving NEED I've always had for people to KNOW the impact they have on the world around them.  This spark has moved me to shift from observer to participant.  I've contacted a random stranger on the internet to tell them that something they wrote connected with me, and that it was wonderful, and meaningful, and important.  I've taken opportunities to talk to people that I would have passed up out of fear, and out of imposter syndrome, and out of staying in my comfort zone in the role of observer.  And every single one of these interactions has had such a positive ripple effect through my entire life, and my entire being, all the way to my core.  I'm ME again.  Maybe more me than I ever was.  And...I'm writing again.  I wrote a new poem a few days ago.  My first new poem since college, nearly 20 years ago.  I'm inspired to share my writings, old and new.  That's why I started this blog.  

The most important takeaway for me is this: if you feel passionate about something, you have to let it out into the world!  If someone's work, or someone's art, or someone's existence has an impact on you, TELL THEM.  Your voice matters.  YOU matter.  Do it, say it, BE it.  Feel it.  And let them feel it with you.

Wonderment

 Wonderment

She stands there and sees
The beautiful breeze
Riffling through the trees.

She says to herself, "I have never seen
Anything so beautiful as that scene
Of the grass and the trees in waves of green."

As she stands in the field,
She cries out, "Yield!
To the waving grass!" And so she keeled.

Onto her knees she falls and cries
As the plants live and the grass dies
And away to heaven it flies.

All in a split second,
As she is being beckoned, beckoned
Into the woods I surely reckoned

Would bring her peace and happiness.

(Note: This is a poem I wrote when I was about 11 years old.  Despite the grammatical issues - poetic license? - I still think it's the best poem I've ever written.  It's definitely my favorite!)