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.