A Closed Open Road

Over the past year and a half, I’ve lived with an anxiety disorder that’s been both a blessing and curse.  These are more than “just panic attacks” many people say I have to “work through”.  Chunks of my time disappear through dissociation. Falls are a regular part of my day. Conversations are confusing and frustrating for both me and any party involved.  Some of what triggers these events are manageable;  others are random, making it feel impossible to categorize and concur.   I’m being treated with psychotherapy and medication.  The process is long, slow and depressing.

Depressing.

That adds a whole new element to my world.

When anxiety moves from the emotional realm to the physical, there are a number of compromises.  I was very good at the job I can no longer hold.  A book can take me weeks to finish instead of two or three days.  The most difficult compromise is my lack of independence.  I shouldn’t drive—I never know when I might black out.  For the first time in 25 years, I’m not working—I need to rely on my husband to support me.  I don’t go anywhere alone.  I Miss my Independence.  I Miss getting in the car and visiting a friend on a whim.  I Miss buying myself a treat because I put in long, hard hours and can spend my money as I wish.  My husband is wonderful.  He’ll take me wherever, whenever I want and he tries not to knock his head against the wall as he reminds me I don’t have to “ask” before a purchase.

But it’s different than being in control… than living independently.

Why should this be such an issue?  On the surface, I have a very easy life. My husband makes a good enough salary to support us.  Beyond that, he trusts me.  He knows I won’t go on a spending spree on a whim. He knows if I could work, I would.  He is understanding when I have days where I can’t do much more than the basics needed to live.  He doesn’t take my contributions to our home for granted.  He doesn’t blame me for needing a long time to heal. (Yes, he has a brother.  He’s married too.)

Have you noticed anything about my very easy life?

It’s very, very tiny. 

I love my husband.  I’m grateful every single day for him.  But I do have friends other than him.  I have fabulous friends.  I don’t see them. I don’t have a “girls’ night out”.  Why?  I don’t have the freedom to go without arranging for a ride.   It’s difficult to set up a play date for me.  We don’t live too far away from each other but I have to inconvenience someone to take 2 hours out of their time to drive me.   How fair is that? To anyone?

Public transportation isn’t the answer.  1) It exists as a very limited resource in my literal neck of the woods. 2) If it did and I had a major attack while riding, I’d end up in the ER.  (Yes, these attacks can be bad enough to scare someone into calling 911.)  

So… I end up isolating myself.  Friends have called.  I have nothing in the way of news to tell them and our conversations end up dying out.   My anxiety twists my perception of reality and I’m afraid to call them.  It’s a pattern.  I see it.  I don’t know how to break it.

Where’s the blessing?   I know I have the unconditional love of my family and friends.  Not having to support myself affords me ample time to heal. I’m learning more about myself than I ever have before.

And although my progress feels painfully slow, I know this is only temporary. 

To be continued….

The Big Fat Truth

I’m a pretty woman.

My hair is thick, wavy, dark and glossy. My eyes are also dark and bright. I have a complexion that rarely needs make up, hands the art directors at a former job photographed for mock-ups and I inherited my grandmother’s incredible smile.

According to the CDC’s online BMI calculator, I am twice the woman I should be.

Be that as it may, my doctors are routinely baffled all my health indicators (blood pressure, cholesterol levels, blood sugar, etc.) say I’m in very good health. Polite society will say, “That’s great!” with the usual caveats of how my weight will eventually affect my health.

Impolite society, which makes up at least 98% of the total, assume I’m lazy and indulge in sweets and junk food.  These assumptions are incorrect, but I will not waste precious time explaining myself. I refuse to defend my past behavior and will only focus on what is ahead.

Aside from being pretty and incredibly overweight, I’m very intelligent. I’m aware my weight will affect my health.  I’ve decided to be more vigilant with what is on my plate, as well as how much of it is there.  My tendency is to over-think, over-analyze and over-do to the point of burnout. Many attempts at weight loss have been derailed by this. I’ve decided on joining Weight Watchers. The plan allows me to obsess in a good way– creative meals, encouragement from the message boards and challenges to increase my activity.

Yes, this is for my health… but I won’t lie.  Anyone on a weight loss journey will say “it’s for my health” and, yes, that is usually true.  But, we want to look good too.  Period. Can anyone really tell me it’s only “about health” when you put a size on you haven’t worn since your age was in the single digits? If you honestly can, I bow to you.  You’re a better person than me.

Enter now a guilty pleasure of mine: women’s magazines. I love them.  I have subscriptions to Redbook and Real Simple.  I routinely grab friends’ discarded copies of Women’s Day, Good Housekeeping and Better Homes and Gardens. (Albeit the latter should be called “Better Homes and Gardens Than You’ll Ever Have Regardless of How Many Articles You Read”.)  Every single one of these magazines has articles on healthy living– exercise, recipes, emotional issues, doctors’ Q&As.  They also discuss the importance of self-esteem and how to love yourself despite social pressures to look like a celebrity or forever young or any of the other bull shit out there leading to a discouraged sigh (at best) at your own reflection.

These magazines are also the masters of contradiction.

I was decluttering a corner last night and came across a pillaged copy of Woman’s Day: Feel Great Fast (Thank you, Dr. Oz), Same Job MORE MONEY (How to beg for a raise without seeming to beg), 10 Minute Tummy Tighteners (Yeah).   Of course, I decided this issue would be my evening read.

There was a fabulous article entitled Love Your Body (and your flaws too!).  (The print version is in the May 2012 issue.) According to LinkedIn, the author, Stacey Colino, has a Bachelor’s degree in English and Art History and a Master’s in Journalism.  The mini-bio at the end of the article says she’s an award-winning health and psychology writer– please note I’m not concerned with her credentials to write about health and psychology.  The article has some fantastic stuff.  Truly.  (Go read it!)  What lost me was turning the page and finding an incredibly preposterous ad for a diet pill.  Preposterous?  Yes.  I read through it twice to be sure it wasn’t a parody.  It all but said it was the most dangerous diet pill on the market– but you’ll get results!!

I understand the concept of marketing. I know why peanut butter is next to jelly in the grocery store. Infomercials are on in the middle of the night for impulsive buyers. (At 3am, yes, the Perfect Tortilla Pan looks like the answer to all of your culinary conundrums and doldrums.  No! Don’t buy it!) But don’t place an ad for a diet pill in the middle of an article that reads– right under the title— “So what if you’re not a size 4? There’s beauty in every inch of you. Make peace with your looks and embrace your shape.”  (Note: These lines do not appear on the online version.  I’m quoting directly from the physical publication.)

Some may find it funny; others will say it’s good marketing.  I find it counterproductive toward the message of the article.  Love yourself— but if you can’t, here’s a pill to help.

Generally, I don’t pay much attention to the ads in a magazine. I glance at them but go right on to the “good stuff”.  (Market research groups never call me.)  I decided to flip through and look for the weight loss miracle ads.  The total: four full page ads and one promotion.  Also found: five ads for anti-aging products and one promotion.  (And, truth be told, the ad for thick cut bacon just opposite the “Lighten Up Dinner”  feature made me laugh.)

I’m not slamming Woman’s Day. I’m simply tired of the mixed messages. Which is it?  Love yourself or get thin quick?  Embrace your body or fix it with all these products?  Maybe the message is “we’ll all love you more if you looked like you took care of yourself”.

I’m not saying anything new here. The war for a positive body image model has been going on for decades.  But listen to me for a just a moment…

I want to lose weight so I’ll be healthier.  I want to look prettier than I already am. This starts with having self-esteem. It’s not the end result.  Self-esteem doesn’t come in pill form.  It doesn’t come with a single digit dress size. It shouldn’t deteriorate from looking down and seeing your belly instead of your toes. Taking care of myself is acknowledging that I’m worth the effort of exercise, learning portion control and making healthier choices.

After working for a marketing company, I held a job at an employment agency owned by a man who had retired from advertising. He told me how L’Oréal’s slogan “Because I’m worth it” came to be.  It was the end result of a woman’s therapy session. I don’t remember all the details of the story, but this bit of trivia has stuck with me. Which is a better act to prove you’re worth losing weight: changing your lifestyle or taking a pill? The latter is far easier (if it works), but the former is saying you’re worthy of being healthy.

I’m worthy of being healthy.  I’m worthy of looking good. A pill won’t change my habits. (Nor will an ad lead to cancelling a subscription.)
I’m worth the effort.

Are you?

Political Versus Personal

I’m a walking contradiction; a hypocrite to my own values. My personal beliefs are incredibly conservative: abortion is wrong, immigrants who come here through unapproved channels should go back and follow the current rules and I think there are more than a few recipients of public aid who abuse the system.

All that being said, politically I support the candidate who is pro-choice, actively protects “illegal” immigrants and pledges to increase funding for social services.

Why?

That answer is simple for me.  My personal beliefs shouldn’t limit the rights of the person next to me. The word personal is defined by Dictionary.com as:

1. of, pertaining to, or coming as from a particular person; individual; private: a personal opinion.

2. relating to, directed to, or intended for a particular person: a personal favor; one’s personal life; a letter marked “Personal.”

3. intended for use by one person: a personal car.

 

My beliefs are mine.  They do not need to be yours. I don’t believe in abortion; I won’t have one. If you feel you need one, then you should be free to do so. (Disclaimer: I have not been in the situation where I have had to consider one, so I actually only think I know what I’d do.) I don’t understand why the pro-choice versus pro-life is a debate. It’s a personal choice. Our actions are our own, so why do others’ political and religious beliefs need to dictate them?

 

The immigrants I’ve met who came or stayed here using “unapproved” methods– sneaking in, staying after a visa expired– are not here to take advantage of our socials services programs or “take our jobs”.  They would rather live here with the fear of deportation and send whatever money they can back to the family left behind than be subjected to the abject poverty or under the corrupted government of their countries of origin. As a decent human being, I want these people to be safe and have an opportunity for a better life. I worked for an employment agency for over a decade. My geographical reach for employing people was approximately a 50-mile radius. This is what I’ve experienced: Immigrants aren’t “taking job from Americans”.  They are the majority of those applying for low level jobs. They accept them with sheer joy and (most of them) show up every single day. I’ve had a few non-immigrant applicants for these jobs.  Everyone single one of them demanded far above the posted salary without a shred of applicable experience and most would not accept the position with the pay range offered. Some would walk out. Some would begrudgingly accept the job, mutter a sarcastic thanks and then disappear several weeks later. (So raise the salary you say?  I would have loved to– the more money my placements made, the better for me and my employer. Agencies rarely get to dictate the pay. That is a problem that must be fixed within companies. That’s also a much larger discussion for another post.) Every so often I’d get an application from a laid off worker or someone who has experienced another life-changing event who needed something to get back on his or her feet. They would accept whatever I had to offer and commit to the length of the assignment. The long and short of it is, I didn’t see immigrants taking jobs from more qualified non-immigrant applicants.  I saw them take the ones no one else wanted.   Is there a problem in other geographical areas where immigrant workers get jobs because they would work for less money?  Most likely. I cannot speak from direct experience on this, so I will not. As I said, that’s a topic for another post– one that will mention the jobs being sent overseas. (Though, let me say I’d love to see harsher penalties for people who sell forged social security cards, employment authorization cards and permanent resident cards. Most of them are so obviously fake I’ve told the holder to return to the supplier and demand a refund.)

Social services were created because there are people in our society who need help and we’ve moved away from providing help to them on our own. Instead of cutting funding because of the percentage of recipients who abuse it, add to the funding for new case workers who can help properly allocate aid to those in need. We rally and make financial contributions of truly staggering amounts of money for political campaigns and natural disasters, but we can’t deal with losing the few dollars from our paychecks to provide our literal neighbors with heat, food and medical care? 

 

My problem: where is the line between keeping my personal beliefs truly for my own life and saying others should do the same? Is it by saying “this is my opinion” and not force others to believe the same?

 

Freedom of speech means we will not be prosecuted for stating our opinions.  But why force that opinion as law by which others should live? Am I forcing my opinion on anyone when I say “live your life as you see fit and I will live mine as I do”?   How we vote affect other people’s lives; how we feel should affect our own. I hear politicians screaming from the roof tops about morals and family values. Treating others with dignity and respect is moral. Providing us with information so we can make educated decisions for ourselves is moral. Forcing someone to live by another’s will is not moral.

 

So where is the resolution to this?  I know we need some laws that limit our freedoms– taxes being mandatory for running our municipal services, making companies accountable for unfair hiring practices (yes, a company is an entity, but it is run by people), disallowing yelling fire in a crowded theater….  Do we need a few more decades of evolution before we treat each other fairly enough that personal choice of anything isn’t controversial?

 

Before you comment, please, really think about what you are about to say. Your argument against anything in this post may very well prove my point. Giving me “official statistics” of issues I’ve mentioned will not help. Research both conservative and liberal organizations from where the number comes. They range drastically on the bias of what is trying to be proved.

I am struggling to keep religion and spirituality out of this and stick to the basic idea of just being respectful of others.  I know some of you will want to argue a religiously based counter-opinion.  My answer to that is the same: live your life by the laws of your religion and I’ll live by the laws of mine. Let me remind you of statements from four major religions:

“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you”

“What is hateful to yourself do not do to your fellow-man.”

“Believers, guard your own souls. The person who has gone astray cannot hurt you if you are rightly guided.”

“An’ it harm none, Do what ye will.”

I started this post by saying I’m a hypocrite of my own values. Through writing and editing, I see I am true to my most important value: live and let live.

Blessed be.

 

A Time to Transform

25.6 miles away from my home…. 14.3 miles from the place i called home for 13 years… is Newtown, CT.  I don’t have young children (my youngest stepchild is 18) but I have plenty of friends with children under eight years old, with six of them either living in or close to Newtown.

I feel as I did days after 9/11, where nothing I do feels important or necessary.  Why am I cooking for a birthday celebration when there are 26 people who will never blow out candles again and their families will mark that day with tears and memories?  Why am I writing a new Yule ritual to celebrate the return of Sun and Life to the world when 20 children had their life ended by madness?

My heart aches and my brain screams… but there’s nothing out there that will listen or help.

I’ve read many posts about reactions to the tragedy in Newtown. There are two that stand out:  Kimberly Brock’s I WONDER AS I WANDER and a comment by Kenneth on Jason Pitzl-Waters’ Prayers in the Face of Unspeakable Tragedy post.

Ms. Brock is an author and mother whose post doesn’t mention a word about gun control, mental health or even the town’s name.  It’s about faith, courage and standing together. I know I’m simplifying her sentiments, but I believe each reader will come away with something different. I read it and felt that as alone and uncertain as I feel, there are others willing to share.  It helps to hold your neighbor’s in our global community, even virtually.

The comment by a gentleman named Kenneth in the latter post is a snap back to reality.  I’m a firm believer in “you sleep in the bed you make”.  You can complain and lament all you want, but, when push comes to shove, you’re the only one who can make a difference in your own situation. He says:

“…we tell ourselves that mass shootings are just random acts of faceless evil or some nebulous force of nature. It’s a natural cause of death for children, the way diphtheria was 200 years ago. We consider it normal for kindergartners to be drilled in how to respond in a firefight. Praying to the gods for relief in this instance [is] an insult to them. It is like praying for relief from hunger after refusing to plant crops. The gods are happy to help when we do our best and need a little nudge to get over the top. They’re not there to bail us out of our own collective willful stupidity.”

One of the reasons why I loved Ms. Brock’s post so much is because it wasn’t political in any sense, and I’m struggling to keep with that here.  Kenneth’s comment isn’t really political, but most is certainly a blow to our culture. I believe he’s right.  Whoever your Divinity is, I’m willing to bet He/She/They hear our prayers and say “A miracle isn’t going to fix this problem. The miracle will be your own cultural changes. Get working on that and we’ll help you with the strength to transform.”

Combining the ideas from both writers, we need to come together as a community, support each other but do more than expressing our wishes and intentions. We have to do something.  The first thing to do is define what “something” is. We also need to remember in defining “something”, we’re not just expressing our desired result.  Let’s all step it up a bit.  We need to put aside our political and religious convictions and look at this logically. We need to be mindful of everyone’s rights and be willing to compromise.

Compromise is difficult but such a small price to pay to avoid funerals, isn’t it?

I know this blog isn’t updated often or with anything very profound. I know I do not have a strong readership. However, if any one chooses to leave a comment, I will ask you to be respectful toward each other.  You needn’t agree, but I will not tolerate attacks.

Blessed be, one and all.

Marriage isn’t hard….

Joshilyn Jackson is an author whose books I dive into without even checking the plot.  I already know I’ll enjoy her story and care about her characters.  In her blog post today, she says,

“Marriage is NOT hard. Life is hard.

LIFE is SO fricken hard. Life is an awful, awful mess, and no one even gets out of it alive. We are all born, we die, and in between, we blunder around hurting each other.

I want to tell young people this: Marriage, if you do it right, if you decide you are a team, if you stand back to back, swords out, is one of the things that make life—which is so awfully, awfully hard—a little softer.”

She’s absolutely right.

I want to expand on that.

Marriage may not be hard, but it does take responsibility.  We’ve forgotten to know what it means to be responsible for our actions.  When I was going through a divorce in 2008, I said to my then husband, “We know what our problems are. We made a commitment to each other. Why can’t we work harder to fix this?”  His reply was, “You bring out the worst in me.”  We talked for a while longer and he came to the conclusion that we’d end up in the same cycle of trying to change, actually keep it up for a few months, then fall back again.  He said it was too much work.

We live in a world where lack of personal responsibility runs rampant.  Criminals use the defense of being a “product of my environment” to justify their actions. We, the jury of peers, allow it.  Our political campaigns are nothing but attacks and exalting how the other one did wrongly by you. Social programs are on the line because recipients are believed to be lazy and their lack of employment has nothing to do with the economic situation we created.  We live in a disposable society; if you don’t like something , tire of it, think something else is better for you, it—whatever “it” may be, can be tossed, recycled, abandoned without much thought.

I don’t advocate staying in an unhealthy marriage.  You can be as responsible as you are able, but it does take two.  I wasn’t blameless for our divorce.  Anyone who thinks they are really needs to re-evaluate what happened (with the exception of an abusive situation).  My ex-husband’s stance was he wasn’t willing to take the responsibility of working out our issues.  I was.  Doing it alone wasn’t going to help us stay married.

I am advocating some serious soul searching.  We can only make our decisions based on the information available at the time.  Some of you may object to my previous statement regarding criminals.  I believe that a person has to be exposed to another way of life in order to see their environment isn’t healthy.  But we need to seek the information and not take the easy way out of “it’s not my fault”.

I’ve recently remarried.  I believe I’m wiser than I was when I was 20, caught up in the sparkly ring and prospect of an escape from home.  At 38, I’ve done more growing in the past four years than I had in the previous 34.  In our vows, we promised to listen to what each other says, along with recognizing non-verbal clues to what we don’t, to hear our own words before saying them, to let each other stand on our own, help each other if we start to fall, and not take each other for granted.

That takes a lot of responsibility.

And, yes, always have cake.

“Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours”

Jump first! Question later…

I read the premise of an essay contest wrong.  

Correction:  I didn’t read it in full. 

The question was to write about a decision from your past you would change if you could.   That’s as far as I read.  The second part of it was “and tell us what that mistake taught you about yourself.”

 So off I went to answer the first part of the question.  I’m a champion babbler. I typed for almost an hour… edited, rewrote, edited again.  As most people think when they set out to write something several hours after everyone else in the household has been sleep, I thought it was brilliant.

It’s probably not. However, I’m taking my own advice and putting it “out there” anyway.  Even though it should be reread with a clear, well-rested mind and I’ll regret it after I wake up.

So here was my almost submission answering “what decision from your past would you change?”

 

Nothing. Cliché? Of course. Truth? Absolutely. But not for the reason you may think.  Scores of my fellow contest entrants will type away about how happy they are with their lives and changing one decision of the Past would alter the Present and we wouldn’t have our children/husband/friends/job/whatever. Change the contest to “What would you change and not have all the goodness of your life affected” and that’s a whole new ball of wax.  It would take more than 1,500 words to create an introduction.

I battle OCD and a severe anxiety disorder.  I’m a victim of my own thoughts, a prisoner of my own mind. If I don’t learn to accept I can’t change my past decisions, I’ll drive myself crazy. I can wish. I can agonize. It doesn’t make a difference….. except  I’ll be miserable.  So why both with this essay?

This question begs us to dig deeply and seek out the vilest or embarrassing decision. We’ll type it out, send it in for the world to read… and not exhale until the responses come in. Those of us who have made regretful decisions will seek absolution. The dramatics want comradery. We all want the comfort from our readers, “It’s ok. You’re ok now.  That’s nothing compare to what I did.”

Can we skip the confession and go right to solidarity?

No. Acknowledgement is part and parcel of the process. I’ve got news for you. Submitting your essay isn’t enough. It felt like it when you hit send— or your immediate reaction was “Ok. This is really the decision I wish I could change.”  If you’re reading my words, your essay wasn’t selected.  Email it off to someone who you didn’t ask to look it over.  Print it out and leave it on the train. Get it out there somehow. Be gutsy.  I dare you.

Isn’t that what it all boils down to?  Being gutsy?  Doing that thing you never thought you could do?  That thing you didn’t do?  That decision you wrote about that you would change… the one you didn’t have the guts to do the first time around?  Pick it apart. I can guarantee you can fill in the following blanks:  I ____ because I didn’t have the guts to ____ and I’d change that if I could.

Freeing, isn’t it. Scary too. But done.  You said it. It’s “out there”.

Ironic, isn’t it….. I’ll bet right now you wish you made the decision to free yourself sooner.

I know I do.