Life – Page 9 – Tipsy Typer

Surprise Skeletons and a Late Night Run in the Rain: My Week in Review

This morning I decided that the next step in my accountability plan is to report back here- if I have to tell you about my successes and failures, then perhaps I will try a bit harder to give you something good. I know I get spotty with my follow-through, but it’s time to change my thinking and hold myself to the promises that I made. I’m also going to get a bit more specific with my goals- that way I can actually give myself a ‘grade’ for the week. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any of these new ideas in place until this morning, so this review is going to be a bit of an overview.

It’s been a crazy whirlwind of a week, mainly because of work. I went in Monday morning slightly dreading an activity I had on my agenda that day. But a co-worker turned that all around for me. I hadn’t been in my own office for more than a few minutes over the past week and half because I was busy covering for people in other departments. I missed my little hole in the wall and my lovely little plants (all named after Wild West personas). When I stepped into my hallway all of the lights were off and my office door was closed- both very unusual things. When I opened it, this is the sight that met my eyes.

Meet Burnie, borrowed from the Fire Department to give me a nice little scare. It set the tone for the rest of my day; Monday way going to be good, come hell or high water- I was going to be happy and productive.

The rest of the week was a bit of a challenge on the work front, leaving me a tad exhausted and creatively tapped out by the time I got home. I worked on my editing, but not as thoroughly as I wanted to. I was having a hard time getting into the story, I even tried switching to a different project at one point, but without much luck. I got a little bit done, but there is a lot left to do if I want to meet that goal by the end of the month. At this rate I may need to turn October into another editing month (with a dash of Nano Prep sprinked in, that’s right, we are getting close my friends!).

On the bright side, I’ve been trying to journal a bit more- to keep myself sane and mindful. And while I haven’t been keeping up with it daily, I did finish out the journal I’ve been writing in (yay). I love cracking open a new one, and actually- I’ve come a long way since I started this last one. I love going back through and re-reading where I started vs. where I ended. Today I am going to pull out a new one (I have a couple stock-piled), and see what happens in the next few months. It’s been helping. I’ve been feeling more centered, more in control of my life and aware of what’s going on around me. I need to try to unplug a bit more often though. I’ve been catching myself dinking around on my phone a lot without doing anything productive, so that is something to work on this coming week.

Last night I was sitting in my pj’s listening to the rain outside and attempting to get some editing done, but I was getting distracted by the blasted interwebs. So you know what I did? I am so proud of this- Zach and I got up, changed and went out for a late night jog in the rain! Yay for finally getting my booty back out there! We took it easy because its been so long since we last went out. But it felt good to get moving. We signed up for a Stage Race next summer, so we’re getting back in shape for that. I think I’m going to sign up for a few 5k’s to keep myself motivated.

Overall- I didn’t have a home run week, but I’m slowly adding new elements to it. Considering the exhausting work week- I am still proud of what I did manage to get done. Sometimes we have to be flexible, sometimes life throws you a few curve balls that you have to roll with. I am forever a work in progress, but at least I am still working.

The Neuroscience of Negativity (if you cant say anything nice…)

Last night I was at happy hour with a group of friends, there were nine of us total, carrying on a myriad of different conversations over yummy food and good drinks at our favorite Irish pub. By the end of the night, our numbers had whittled down to four. We were telling stories and venting a bit to one another when a man walked by our table and started talking to us. When he got us all to smile he clinked glasses and went on his way. When he came back through about fifteen minutes later he made a comment along the lines of ‘now what do I want to see?’ until we were all laughing and giving him the smile he asked for. While it was a fairly insignificant moment, it got me thinking about perception that others receive of us. It is all too common for us to spend a night gossiping and sharing stories of our weekly frustrations while laughing over a few drinks, and while I have never actually viewed this activity in a negative way (after all, we are usually laughing and making jokes the entire time), I couldn’t help but stop and think about the underlying stories: mainly, the weekly frustrations that life will bring and how we deal with those.

I generally try to be a positive person; I do my best to put on an optimistic front even when I don’t feel it inside because worrying others wont do anyone any good. Some days I have the fire burning inside already and nothing is going to get in the way of my good mood; but other days I have to remind myself, I have to build myself up to it. I’ve noticed that I have a harder time doing this with those that I am close to. I vent, I complain, I occasionally gossip- I do a lot of things that I’m not necessarily proud of. I fall into the negativity pit and all of the typical reasoning that comes with it. I tell myself that getting these negative feelings off of my chest will make me feel better. But, as it turns out, that is a bit of flawed thinking on my part. The truth is, the only thing that negative thinking will get you is more negative thinking. Don’t believe me? Just ask science.

Let me get my lab coat on (I don’t know why you want me to do this, I’m really not qualified to be teaching this class. Although last year I did read ‘Do Zombies Dream of Undead Sheep’- neuroscience explained through the afflictions of the zombie-kind). But, I’m dressed for the part and I wear glasses- that must make me a reputable teacher. Lesson one of neuroscience: synapses that fire together wire together. Let’s start off by explaining how this whole process works; now, the brain is a complicated creation that I wont even pretend to understand. So this overview isn’t going to be particularly technical.

Nerve cells make connections with one another in circuits that we refer to as neural pathways. These nerve cells, however, never actually touch, they just get very close together. If you have siblings, then the best example of this is when you would sit in the back of the car and they would hover their finger right over your face saying ‘but I’m not touching you’ whenever you tried to shoo them away. Unless that was just my childhood? Anyway, back to the lesson: So you have two very close neurons that cannot make physical contact. So how to they pass messages from one to the other? (Fifty points to Gryffindor if you get it right before reading ahead). Answer: Through the synapse! Ah sure, but what the heck is that? Well, I’m glad you asked. A synapse is a structure that allows one neuron to pass an electrical or chemical signal to another neuron over a gap known as the synaptic cleft. They are vitally important, essentially acting as the pathway for your thoughts. Now, the body is an amazing example of efficiency. Whenever you have a thought (like you are right now), a synapse will shoot a chemical across the cleft to another synapse (think Spiderman slinging string to the building across the street), which effectively ‘builds a bridge’ that an electrical signal can then cross over. This signal carries the information that is pertinent to your thought. (I don’t know why, but I always picture a super secret FBI agent with a briefcase full of top secret documents.)

Now, as I said before, the body is nothing if not economical. You see, every time an electric signal gets triggered, the synapses involved start to grow closer together in an effort to make their job easier. Their goal is to decrease the distance that the signal has to pass over to get from Point A to Point B. To keep the FBI analogy; its much easier to transport your top secret information from one room to another, as opposed to hopping in a car and driving across town. Isn’t that amazing? The brain will literally rewire its own circuitry to make it easier for you. It physically changes its internal map to line up the proper synapses together, effectively making it easier for that particular thought to trigger.

To put this in perspective of your daily life: think of some of those recurring habits you have: do you compulsively check your phone or social media? I bet it started with you getting bored and poking on your phone once or twice. But over time this compulsion grew, and pretty soon you are opening it and poking around on Facebook with virtually no thought behind it. You didn’t even realize you were doing it, but you were literally programming yourself to follow these habits. The shorter distance between the synapses makes these recurring thoughts more likely to occur. You are conditioning yourself for specific behaviors and thoughts- and you don’t even know you are doing it. Starts to make a bit more sense, doesn’t it?

This process can be a phenomenal asset- if you use it correctly. When you fall into the trap of bad thinking though; it is a dangerous weapon. You see, when you start thinking negatively or listening to negative speech- your brain is programming itself to follow this trend, those synapses are getting closer together and making it easier for that negative thought to reappear again. These close synapses not only make negative thoughts easier to come by, they also make it more likely for other negative thoughts to just randomly occur throughout your day, like when you are walking down the street without anything in particular on your mind (Scary, isn’t it?). Basically, by sinking into this thought pattern you are changing your personality to a gloomier outlook. As Steven Parton explains, “Through repetition of thought, you’ve brought the pair of synapses that represent your [negative] proclivities closer and closer together, and when the moment arises for you to form a thought…the thought that wins is the one that has less distance to travel, the one that will create a bridge between synapses fastest.” It is literally a race for thoughts.

This is not just an internal dilemma; suddenly it becomes very important who you surround yourself with. Humans are notoriously empathetic creatures (though it doesn’t always seem that way).During our evolution our survival hinged on the connections we could make with others. We are a species that thrive in small groups. What is the easiest way to make a connection? Through shared experiences and emotions. It’s in our wiring; when we see someone in an emotional state- good or bad, our own brains try that feeling on for size; by that, I mean that it tries to imagine what the other person is experiencing. Have you ever watched a video of people laughing? Something so simple- try not to smile yourself when you watch it. The reason why it’s so hard: your brain wants to relate to them, it wants to mirror their emotions to find common ground. How does it delve into this imagined world? Well, it fires those synapses, of course- attempting to emulate what it is seeing in the other person, effectively allowing you to ‘relate’ to them. Ever hear of ‘mob mentality’? Well, this is where that comes from- good or bad, we want to have common ground with other people. This explains the hype we all collectively begin to feel at a concert or sporting event- or the way we vent exhaustively at happy hour with our best friends.

You follow the same thought patterns as those around you; that’s why toxic relationships can be so potent and drag you down so quickly. That is also why you feel so refreshed and energized by that ‘happy friend’ you have who doesn’t seem to be effected by the negativity of life. I have a friend from high school who I only get to see a few times a year because we both live busy lives on opposite sides of the state. But every time I see her, I feel like a better person, I admire her outlook on life, it is contagious. My advice- hold onto these friends, do not lose touch. Find people that you want to be like and embrace their outlook. Look at yourself and decide which person you want to be- do you want people to walk away refreshed because of your attitude, or do you want to complain about the daunting trivialities of your daily life. You have a choice- the brain is an amazing creation; if it is capable of wiring itself one way, it is also capable of going in the other direction.

My fiancé has a trick that he learned a while ago; you write your goals or positive thoughts on a notecard. You read it in the morning when you first wake up and right before you go to bed. You carry it with you in your wallet and read it whenever you need to remind yourself. Why does this work? Because you are actively reminding yourself to think these thoughts, effectively forcing your brain to rewire itself to promote this new way of thinking. It moves those synapses closer together so that it becomes your default thinking, eventually weeding out those negative thoughts you once fought with.

At the end of the day, it is up to you how you will see the world. You get to determine which synapses fire together. You get the colors to shade your world in. Bright or dreary- the world is your canvas. At least now you understand why you may fall into these ruts, and you know how to get out of them. You can also understand why your outlook will not just change overnight. It takes a conscious effort to rewire a new way of thinking. Knowledge is power, as they say. Use it wisely, my friends.

Salty Sea Air, Sun and Silence

There is an inconspicuous little house on a beach somewhere, in a little town that is known for it’s local vibes as opposed to a tourist feel. It is the getaway for people like me who want the salty sea air and silence. It is the tourist destination for the hermits who don’t like tourists. My home is very busy; hell, my life is very busy- sometimes all you need is a time out in a not-so-far-away place. This has become my haven when the world gets too loud and pushy. I have an escape just a few hours away from my home.

When the world gets too busy, I crave the outdoors; long wooded trails, overhanging trees, the burbling of a river; nature makes me feel like myself again. But sometimes a walk through the woods just isn’t enough when you know you have to come back out again. Sometimes all you want is a reprieve, a quite place where you can turn off your phone if you wish and just curl up with a good book. Sometimes you need to put down your weekend warrior garb, hop in the car and drive off into the sunset for a change of scenery.

I don’t come to the beach as often as I like, but every time I do I can feel my soul coming back to life, waking up from it’s overloaded catatonia. There is something calming about rolling sea waves and light winds, about late night storms and warm blankets. There is something invigorating about combing the beach for sea shells as the puppy chases the sandpipers and sea gulls, or cooking dinner side by side with your partner in crime. There is something healing about hours spent reading books and watching old movies. There is something beautiful in the simplicity of this temporary beach life.

When I was a little kid we used to come to this same beach with my grandparents and all of my aunts, uncles and cousins. We would spend whole weekends here with the gang, and I remember how much I loved it. That was before life and family got so complicated. Now I’m only a few doors down from that old house; and while it’s proximity is comforting, it’s nice to be somewhere a little bit different, a place that has room for new experiences instead of crowding me with old memories and phantoms of my past.

This morning I sit here with a cup of hot coffee, the sun pouring in through the window. It’s quiet as Zach and Link (the dog) are both still sleeping. All that I hear are the comforting clicks from my keyboard. It’s the perfect way to spend the morning. In a few minutes I am sure that they will both be up. We will drink our coffee while we cook breakfast together, dodging popping bacon grease and attempting the master the pancake flip. Then we will grab our sweatshirts and mosey out to the beach for one more lazy walk with the dog before we come back, clean, pack up the car, and make our way back to civilization.

When we get home we will jump back into the fray like we had never left. But my soul will feel lighter, my smile will be broader, the sparkle will be back in my eyes. Because when I escape my regular world, I rediscover myself. I can go back to my life and appreciate the sounds because I have been enveloped by the calming silence.

Until next time, you beautiful place, I will miss you. Because there will always be a next time. This is my safe place, the spot that restores my soul, the calm in the eye of the storm. This is where I remember who I am; and don’t we all need something like that?

What about you, my friends? What is your escape? Is it a place, a thing, an activity? What makes you feel whole in this busy world of ours?

Keeping the Darkness at Bay: My Battle with Depression

If I could have changed things I would have. Don’t think that this was all something that I wanted. I could not escape the prison I had created and I was slowly suffocating. It was like pounding on a brick wall, no matter how bloody my fists got, I couldn’t just give up. But we all have our point of no return. We can only bend so far before we break, and I shattered into a million pieces. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough, I’m so damn sorry you are paying for my mistakes now. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were always my world, and it destroys me to know I could be hurting you. But you’re tough, you’ll do just fine. I know you- you will do more than just survive; you will thrive. You were always so much stronger than I was. And one day you will look back on me as nothing more than a distant memory, far removed from whatever amazing life you have led. You’ll realize I was meant to be nothing more than a minor detour. You’ll be better on your own. I promise. But I’ll always be here, watching over you. Like a moth to a flame, I’ve never been able to resist you. So take comfort- what I couldn’t do in life, I shall do in death. I’ll be your angel now, guarding you from any harm this world may dare to bestow on you. I love you, now and forever. And I am so sorry. I’ll make sure you’ll be okay.

I wrote this when I was sixteen; this was one of the many snippets of the many letters that I started and stopped. At the time I found myself trapped in a very dark place; I was mired down in that pit for a long time- years even. Chronic depression- that’s what they would have call it- if I had ever told anyone how I felt. But I didn’t. Every day I painted on a plastic smile and went about my regular activities, I played pretend and acted like nothing was wrong. When someone would ask questions I would laugh and brush the comment away with a generic reply. No one could know about the darkness that had invaded my soul and taken up residence. No one could find out what I was inside. I was supposed to be a golden girl, anything less than perfection was not acceptable. I was not the kind of girl that stumbled, I was not the kind of girl that fell. And I sure as hell wasn’t the kind of girl to ask for help. I was stronger than that. I didn’t talk about it. Instead I wrote every feeling out and hid the pages away in a notebook.

I’ve been going back and forth on whether I should even write this post; these are deeply personal moments in my life that very few people know about. Should I really take something this sensitive and toss it out there for anyone to find? Am I really at a stage in my life where I am confident enough to own the darkness that I held? Am I brave enough to stand here and proclaim for all to hear that I used to think these things? That I was a breath away from acting on those thoughts? I am terrified; mainly because even after all this time, I am still afraid of hurting the people close to me, I am afraid of letting them see this side of me that I hid for so long. But if there’s anything that life has taught me, it’s that when you have an opportunity to help someone else, you grasp it with both hands and you don’t let go. Today is National Suicide Prevention Day. And so, it seems only right that I take today to show you a piece of my soul that rarely sees the light of day.

I wish I could say that there was one culminating moment that led me to this path; but there wasn’t. There was a multitude of different things, some large, some small; but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. No, it’s not about what led me to the road that I travelled, it’s about what happened when I was on it. It’s about being able to recognize the signs within yourself and those around you. That kind of darkness can swallow you whole, and no one is immune. I was a ‘good girl,’ which was perhaps a part of the problem. I was not the kind of girl who was sad or angry- not on the outside.

Every day was a game of masks; I would paint on my plastic smile every morning with an expert hand, making sure I looked as bright and shiny as the world wanted me to be. I laughed, I joked, I said all the right things at exactly the right time. But it meant nothing. At the end of the day I was empty. I just wanted the pain to stop, I just wanted a reprieve. I prayed to a God I wasn’t sure I believed in to make it stop. And then one day, I got what what I asked for. It only proved that you should be careful what you wish for. The tears may have been gone, but I was numb inside.

You see, there is something that people don’t always know about depression; there is a point beyond the pain, something that is even more terrifying that the daily anguish in your soul. You reach a point where your body and mind cannot physically process it anymore; that’s when the numbness sets in. It sounds like it would be a relief, finally an end to the pain. But it isn’t. You see, there’s something wholly unhuman about the numbness, something scary and incomplete. When you are in pain then at least you are feeling; and when you are feeling, that means you are still alive. That means there is something inside of you that is still fighting to survive. But the numbness is all-encompassing. It makes you feel like you are already dead inside. There is an eerie calm to it, one that still sets my soul on edge. I will take a river of tears over blank stares any day. If there a destructive behavior that I could try; then I did- if only to force myself to feel something, anything- that would convince me I still had something to fight for. I was a shell, I would give anything to feel again.

I mentioned earlier that I was hesitant to even post this because of the people in my life and how it would impact them. People don’t fully comprehend the conflicting emotions you feel for your loved ones when you are lost in the depths of depression. I love the people in my life with a fierce passion; if you know someone fighting this battle, know that it isn’t about you and how you love them. I knew on a fundamental level that my friends and my family loved me; and I felt an immense amount of guilt over my own self-loathing. It was never that I didn’t love them enough, it was that I didn’t love myself enough. They were collateral damage; it was about me and how I could live my life. I worried about them, but when I was lost in that maze, I genuinely believed that they would be better off without me. It didn’t matter what they said, I didn’t know how to view myself as a worthwhile human being. Your self-perception becomes skewed, you can convince yourself that the whole world would be better off without you. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love them with every fiber of your being. It just means that you don’t know how to love and protect yourself the same way. They are two distinct ideas.

I didn’t think I would live to 17, I didn’t expect that I would walk with my class in graduation or find a regular Monday through Friday job. Inside I secretly hoped for some kind of accident, that way my family could believe that I hadn’t wanted it. They could be comforted in their image of who I was, and no one would ever have to know that it was the fate I wanted at the time. Looking back now, at 27, I am amazed to see how far I have come. I couldn’t picture my life at this stage, when I tried there was just a blank void staring back at me. I thought I would be a statistic, one of those sad stories that people only thought of fleetingly during their high school reunion ‘Oh, do you remembe her? How tragic, it makes you really wonder who she’d be today.’

I don’t know what changed, much like how it started, there was no definitive ‘end.’ I didn’t have a eureka moment when I realized that I was suddenly happy. I didn’t wake up one day to birds chirping while the sun danced through my window and proudly proclaim that life was suddenly worth living. It was so gradual, I didn’t even notice. And even today I am afraid to believe it. I was lost in that world for so long, and something like that leaves a mark on the soul. I am not ashamed of my experiences, no, they are my red badge of courage. But I am always afraid that these past couple years were just a reprieve and I will slip again. I am always aware of my emotions, I am always in tune with those moments where I need to step back and take a break from my life. It was lifting your head above the water line when you thought you were drowning. It was a battle I fought every day. I had to stand up for myself, take a deep look inside and discover who I was and who I wanted to be. I had to fill that blank future with something to give me hope. I had to change.

I don’t think there is a human in existence that hasn’t felt the pull of the darkness. I don’t think there is a single soul out there that hasn’t felt the icy touch of depression on their heart. We all know what it feels like, but we don’t talk about it. Everyone’s answer to escape is different. For me, it was all about self-reflection. I wrote constantly, I bled the poison out of my system one word at a time. I found things to keep me busy, to make me proud. I discovered the art of zen living. I found something in myself worth saving, something that I had all along and never realized.

If you know of someone who you even just fleetingly suspect might be going through this; reach out. You don’t have to say anything profound or deep, you don’t have to confront them even- in fact it’s best if you don’t. Just talk to them. I remember one really bad day where I was very seriously considering giving in to a bad outcome. And then the phone rang. It was one of my friends- we hadn’t been as close, but she still called. Just to say hi, just to talk on a rainy Saturday. That was all it took to pull me back from the ledge. Just a simple ‘hello.’ I have never told her that she probably saved my life that day with just one word. This wasn’t ever a subject we discussed. Perhaps I will someday.

So please, if there is nothing else that you take from this, just pay attention to one another. Show each other kindness, because you never know what monsters someone may be facing. I was a golden girl; and while I wasn’t popular or anything like that; I was the last person you would expect to be dealing with these demons. And I dealt with them for about four years. That’s a long time to feel like you are in hell. That’s a long time to be pushing that boulder up a hill. That’s a long time to hurt silently. So smile, say hi, ask someone how they are doing and listen to the answer. If someone is sad- don’t search for the reason why, there is a good chance that even they don’t know. Just be there. Even if it’s only to watch a movie in silence. Show compassion. Take off your mask so that they can take off theirs.

There is one death by suicide in the world every 40 seconds. In the US alone there is a death by suicide every 12.3 minutes. It is the 10th leading cause of death in the US for all ages. To put that into perspective, murder is ranked #17. This means that we are more likely to harm ourselves than for someone else to harm us. For 15-24 year olds (the age I was when I dealt with my darkest days), it is the 2nd leading cause of death. An estimated quarter million people every year become suicide survivors. That’s a lot of pain, that’s a lot of sadness.

We need to look out for one another, and in the process, we cannot ignore ourselves. I know that it is a lot to ask- to convince someone to ask for help, but trust me, it is worth it. I didn’t believe that I could ever be truly happy. I didn’t believe that I would live past 17. I didn’t believe in a lot of things that I have now. I was forged through fire; because of my sadness, I can appreciate my happiness now. And it wasn’t a single event that changed everything; you don’t need a miracle. Sometimes it just happens, it changes inside of you, slowly building up day by day; but you have to be open to the change. Don’t give up. I am 27, I have a good life- it isn’t perfect, but I’m happy. I have lived through some amazing experieces because I didn’t give up when everything in my soul wanted to. Life is not what I expected; but eventually, the sun does come out, no matter how long you’ve weathered the storm. Don’t give up, don’t be afraid. Most of us have felt the pain, and no one will think any less of you for trying to help yourself. I wish I had. I could have saved myself years of pain. Life is a beautiful mess, never be too afraid to live it.

Can you be a Wine Mom without liking wine (or having kids)?

Last night I got sucked into the YouTube void when I was supposed to be editing (a fairly unusual thing for me- the YouTube, not the editing). After binge watching one of my favorite channels, I couldn’t help but ponder one of the unanswerable questions of our time: Is it possible for me to be a ‘wine mom’ when I do not actually like wine and do not have any tiny humans of my own? Because I’ve got to say- I feel like these are my kind of women.

There’s something vastly appealing about finding an identity, a group of people you can relate with, or ones that will simply make you laugh- out here in this expanse that is the interwebs. And I have to admit- the mom blogs are some of my absolute favorites to peruse. They are the front line warriors of the female race. They push on in spite of all of the challenges thrown at them (literally and figuratively): spaghetti fights at the kitchen table, 2am wake up calls by screaming children wearing rubber boots, wall art after you finally got the perfect shade for your living room, mud pies that make it into your laundry basket, and the worms- we wont even get started on the worms. These women possess the strength that I wish I had. I guess I will have something to look forward to whenever I decide to take that terrifying plunge into life with a hobbit-human.

I wish I could be an honorary member of the Wine Mom Club. Or perhaps we could create a second tier? I’m thinking ‘Margarita Aunts’ has a nice ring to it. I have six nephews and three nieces varying in ages from one to fourteen years (and don’t even get me started on the mini-panic attack I had when the oldest started high school). If this helps my case at all in my quest to join the Wine Mom/Margarita Aunt Club- I do share living space with three pint-sized minions (they are 1, 4 and 7), and while I am always quick to call their dad to come save the day when I get in over my head, I can still manage a few rounds of ‘lets see how far this cottage cheese can fly’ before I go running for the safety of my bedroom.

Oh yes, I may be a lowly aunt, but I have been peed on enough by little boys to understand the quick computing skills needed to determine the trajectory and get out of the line of fire while changing a diaper. This was a sad lesson learned after a few direct hits. I have felt the unexplainable pain of stepping on a pile of Legos in the middle of the night, and the fear that comes when the baby learns to climb through the dog door after her favorite furry friend. I have gone on quests meant only for the brave of heart- to find the lost Trash Pack Critter (only to find him two hours after the search has disbanded, mashed in the pile of goo left on the kitchen table), I have made beautiful play-dough snails just so I can be forced to watch them get run over by a plastic fire truck (to the delight of a maniacal three year old). I have kissed booboos and shoed away monsters. I have had a debate with a four year old about who’s Batman jacket was cooler (his had a cape- he won). I have been a part of their lives, but never the mom. There is something very unique about viewing parenthood from the close proximity of a shared household- without being the actual parent, and yet the joys that the Little bring me far outweigh the frustrations.

After all, is there really anything better than silly faces at the dinner table or a quick game of ‘don’t laugh’ when someone is feeling grumpy? Or how about the first time that the baby learned to play Peek-a-boo (complete with a belly laugh every time you ‘see’ her). Or the time when you got to ‘try science’ with the seven year old- hands down, my favorite simple experiment: Mentos and Coca-Cola. Or what about this last New Years- instead of going out, we hung out with the Littles playing board games, watching the ball fall and shooting off little poppers in the front yard? Better than any party we could have gone to.

So to you Wine Moms out there, I raise my glass and cheers you. It takes a special kind of woman to handle that stress, and you do it with the kind of humor that leaves me snorting with laughter. I strive to be like you someday when I have my own little terrifyingly adorable hobbits. And while we’re on the subject: any suggestions on good wines- because I want to be ready when it’s finally my time to join the club.

If you are interested in the video that brought about this odd little post, take a peek at Wine Mom, Hannah Williams, presented by Buzzfeed on YouTube. You will not be disappointed, she is an adorable gem. Here’s just one: Signs You’re A Wine Mom

Don’t Let Fear Rule You (The Social Anxiety Win)

I came to the realization a long time ago that my social anxiety will never be ‘cured.’ It is as much a part of me as my freckles, the scar on my lip, or my affinity for Harry Potter. Much like my fear of heights, I can face it, I can find a work-around; but the fear itself does not change. There are no magical solutions that will make me forget to be anxious. There is nothing that will stop my heart from racing, nothing that will keep me from analyzing every word I say and every move they make. No, these things will not change. But I have to fight through them anyways. Some days I am prepared for the battle, and some days I am holding that white flag high above my head (or more appropriately- on the door that I have locked myself behind).

I can’t even begin to explain the frustration that starts to build up after a long week of uncomfortable moments with people that could be fantastic to get to know- if I could only get out of my own way. Sometimes I wonder what kind of person I would be without it; who would I have become if this wasn’t always following behind me like a damn shadow? I have never been a big fan of ‘normal,’ and in most situations I don’t even know what that word is supposed to mean. But there are days where I would give anything to just feel normal. I wish I could understand what it’s like to step into a room and feel genuinely excited about the prospect of meeting new people, not terrified that these new people might not like me. Is it kind of like walking into a library full of new books? Full of possibilities, and promises of new adventures? What is it like when fear doesn’t rule over you with an iron fist? What is it like when you can walk into a party and not feel like you are stepping into your own personal battlefield? Tell me friends, what does it feel like to be normal?

I’ve been feeling closed off the past few weeks, no matter how hard I’ve been trying at this ‘social’ thing. The distance has been palpable, and I haven’t really known what to do about it. I keep trying- I’ve been making plans, racking my brain to initiate conversations, smiled when I wanted to turn tail and run. I even made plans for an overnight trip with another couple. I have been avoiding all thoughts of this potential adventure, because otherwise I might just start having a panic attack right here where I sit. Surprisingly, my efforts have actually been paying off- I was even able to hold a few lengthy conversations with a superior at work who has traditionally made me feel notoriously awkward. That’s right my friends- full conversations with a beginning, a middle, and an end. But all week it felt like work, desperately grasping at conversation starters. So when Saturday hit, I had mixed feelings. We were invited to a BBQ by a friend. There were only going to be a couple of people that I knew, and, more importantly, I was going to be meeting the wife of one of my fiancé’s best friends for the first time. She is a master at the ‘girl thing,’ it’s what she does for a living, and I am a twenty seven year old who still hasn’t completely figured out eye liner. I know she’s nice, but would we really have anything in common? I wanted to make a good impression, but I was nervous- very nervous. As it turns out, my anxiety was unwarranted- she wasn’t able to make it, and therefore I was left to my own devices with the other strangers.

There are rare instances where you just hit it off with people and all of the awkwardness quickly goes out the window. BBQ night turned into one of those nights, and for the first time in a long time I got a taste of what it felt like to be a normal social person. There were seven of us total, which, as it turns out, is a pretty good number to keep conversations going without it getting too overwhelming. It was interesting- these were seven very different people with very different life stories and experiences. We had some military, all but two had undergone some major relocations throughout their lives. Everyone had stories, and everyone felt comfortable telling them. It was liberating (and the steady supply of beer didn’t exactly hurt my social game). I was able to talk without too much fear of what people thought, I told stories and people actually laughed. I felt like I was a part of something; a rare moment that I crave with all my soul.

Perhaps I am not as far gone as I thought I was. Perhaps its just a matter of finding people that you don’t have to force a conversation with. Perhaps its simply a matter of learning to relax and let go of those internal filters. Maybe the stars aligned just right or I was abducted by aliens and they implanted these really nice memories instead. Whatever the reason, I’m glad that I went. And perhaps next adventure, the terrifyingovernight trip, wont be as scary as I have feared. There’s only one way to find out: take a deep breath and jump.

The Character Challenge (live the story)

I always wanted to be a badass. But, as it turns out, being tall and wiry with virtually no muscle tone, chipmunk cheeks and glasses does not scream ‘fear me.’ No, I know what you are thinking, with my verbal jujitsu, how could I possibly be anything but hardcore? And yet it’s true. Even when I put on my sassy pants people tend to refer to me as ‘cute’ rather than ‘ferociously pee-your-pants terrifying.’ If the zombie apocalypse suddenly broke out, I strongly suspect I would not be the gun slinging hero that pulls together the remaining humans- I wouldn’t even be the zombie charging forward to eat said gun slinging badass. No, let’s face reality- I would be the zombie who tripped over a garden hose and happened to impale her poor little noggin on a gnome, effectively ending her anti-climactic undead existence.

Perhaps it is my own lackluster abilities that draws me towards the strong characters I write. For just a brief little period in time I get to pretend to be these brave beings that I’ve always wanted to emulate. I get to live a thousand and one adventures through the gifts of a few pages and some ink. I get to be tough, to do the things I could only imagine in my regular day-to-day life.

I’ve had an idea percolating in my brain for quite some time now, but it didn’t really resonate with me until Memorial Day. I live in the Pacific Northwest- first rule of living here: Don’t be afraid of the rain. Second rule of living here: When the sun decides to grace you with its presence, you go outside and enjoy it. So I did just that. A couple of co-workers and I decided to go on a hike we had never done before. It was supposed to be seven miles round trip- more than I’m used to, but not that bad. It wound up being eleven. Along the way we had to cross about a dozen creeks by hopping from one dry rock to the next until we made it to the path on the other side. When we made it to the lake we decided to follow the trail around it. When it split into two sections, we took the one closest to the water. This, incidentally, turned out to be a mistake, but we took it in stride- the motto of the day being ‘let’s have an adventure.’ So when the lake came up and over a portion of our path, we decided not to turn back, instead we took our shoes off and waded in. And when our path culminated in a rock wall about twice my height- we climbed it. Then, when the sketchy wooden planks were the only things keeping us from falling into a mud bath below- we ran across. It was safe to say that we managed to have our adventure.

Over our celebratory drinks and BBQ afterwards, I couldn’t help but come to two realizations. First: no beer will ever taste as good as the first beer after a long hike (Thank you Stella Artois for your lovely concoction, it was truly perfection). Second: I just might be capable of some of my own badassery after all. Perhaps I do have it in me to be like those tough women I write about. Maybe, just maybe, I am not like those fictional characters because I have never given myself the chance to be. After all- I just walked 11 miles on a whim, I climbed a rock wall, I forded creeks, I waded into a lake that had snow merely feet away- me, I did that. I have to admit, in spite of the fact that my muscles are currently screaming at me every time I try to stand and my back is the color of the Kool-Aid guy (note to self: never forget the sun screen at post-hike happy hour)- I feel a bit like a badass.

And that was when the ideas really started taking root- what if I decided to challenge myself to be more like my characters? What if I try to live a life worthy of the stories that I tell? The Character Challenge (okay, so I haven’t put as much thought into the name- I’ve been more preoccupied with the content). The goal will be two-fold: to gain better insight to enrich my writing, and also to help me become a more well-rounded person in general. It’s for my own character, as well as the character of my characters (apologies- I had to do that just once, don’t worry, it’s now out of my system).

I’ve always believed that it is the truth that is hidden in a piece of fiction that is what makes it come to life. Personal experience is a large part of that truth. So why not try to improve myself along with my work? At the very least, I’ll have some good stories for my next happy hour. It will be a great way to get into my characters’ heads while simultaneously cleaning out my own. It will also be a bit of an experiment: perhaps I will find something that really makes a difference in my work.

So here is the first challenge: Physical badassery

Generally speaking, physical ability is the bedrock of any literary badass. This is actually something I have been meaning to work on anyways- I have let myself get out of shape and I hate it. Keeping your body fit and healthy is one of the best things you can do for your brain. So this little challenge will double as an experiment: will I notice any difference in my writing abilities as I proceed?

I think its about time to fish those boxing gloves out from the closet and see what I am capable of. Game on.

Restlessness and Mindfulness

I have been feeling unusually restless lately; it started about a week ago, and I haven’t been able to shake it. There’s a deep-seated energy permeating all of my daily activities making it hard to focus on any one topic without my mind wandering off on something else. Think of it like a web browser with too many pages open, that’s what my brain felt like, constantly bouncing from one to the other looking for something in particular without ever finding it. Perhaps it’s time to start planning my next grad adventure. But perhaps there’s more to it. I’ve been anxious without being able to put my finger on why. I’m stressing myself out over my illusive to-do list that just keeps growing. I have been taking things that I love and making them chores. I’ve turned everything into a personal challenge (I tend to get a bit competitive with myself). I’ve been driving myself insane, even going so far as to google whether adults can suddenly become ADD. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what.

So last night I decided to do something that I haven’t done in months; I fished my journal out of my desk drawer, curled up in a cozy spot and started writing. I forgot how liberating it felt to let the words flow without direction or expectation. As I started spilling out my thoughts, I realized what a jumbled mess I have been the past few weeks. I’ve ignored it, pushed it to the back of my mind, and hoped that it would all just go away. Because I didn’t think I had time. How could I possibly take the time to sit and journal, or even just think deeply about my life when I have so many things to do for my future? I forgot that there is more to life than the time you spend on the clock working towards your goals.

I realized that the writing block I have been struggling to toss off of my shoulders this past week has been self-induced. It hasn’t been your traditional writer’s block: I have ideas to work with, a mountain of them in fact, but I haven’t been able to get those words to translate onto the page. I’ve started and stopped a dozen different articles for this page, and I’ve picked up my Urban Fantasy project only to put it back down in frustration a half hour later. I’ve also been restless with my reading, the one outlet that I have always enjoyed. I haven’t been able to read more than a few pages before flipping forward to see how much farther I have to go to finish the chapter. I skim articles without reading much of the content because I can’t seem to let the words soak in. I’ve been living life in the fast lane, but I have been losing control.

Last night I figured out what I needed to do, and the answer was unbelievably simple: I need to slow down and take some time to cultivate myself. You see, I have always been one for self-reflection. I love the ways of the zen teachings, I think that mindfulness is probably the most overlooked benefit to our society. Years ago I would journal frequently, work out (I especially loved yoga, though I have never been all that good at it), I even tried my hand at meditation. There is something deeply satisfying about taking the time to listen to your own mind and body. I haven’t been doing enough of that lately; it’s no wonder I have been running myself ragged, feeling frayed at the edges. I have been so caught up in accomplishing everything on my to-do list, planning all of the spare moments of my day, that I forgot to live right here in the present.

There are a myriad of health benefits when you turn your attention to cultivating mindfulness. Meditation has been proven to increase telomerase (the ‘caps’ at the end of our genes), which in turn can reduce cell damage and lengthen our lives. It bolsters the immune system by reducing stress. It can help improve concentration and, if done correctly, can help decrease negative thinking that contributes to our high stress levels. Mentally speaking, it helps you live in the moment, to fully enjoy what you are doing, whether it is as simple as taking a bite of your lunch, or focusing on a problem that a co-worker is explaining. Your interpersonal relationships usually start to flourish because the goal is to fully immerse yourself and pay attention to what is going on, including being more attentive to those around you.

I haven’t given my brain time to process my own life outside of the to-do list. But now that I have had my eureka moment, it’s time to fix the problem. Luckily, this isn’t my first rodeo, so to speak. In the past I have worked on this very issues, in fact, it is one of the keys that helped me climb out of the pits of depression years ago. I know how to do it, I just haven’t followed through it with. I didn’t even realize that I had changed the way that I looked at my life until right now.

So it’s time to clear all of the cluttered moments of my day. I need to focus on one thing at a time. Less multi-tasking and more full immersion in whatever I am actively working on. After all, what is more important: the number of books I have read in the past year, or the lessons I was able to take away from those books? Does reading fifteen articles really matter if I didn’t absorb anything that they actually said? In the long run, its a waste of time to do these things if they aren’t going to sink in, if I’m not going to be paying full attention to them. So I will take a step back and work on quality over quantity.

In the mornings I will wake up and do my stretches or a short work out. I wont be trying to read or watch a show or anything while I am doing that. I will be focusing on my breathing. When I am working on one project, I will turn off everything else so that I can focus on just that one project. If I find my mind wandering when I an reading an article, I will step away for a minute and come back when my mind is ready, instead of skimming through the rest of it. No more counting how many books I have finished in the past week, month or year. It doesn’t matter if I’m not enjoying them anymore. I will remember to walk the dog every night and leave my phone at home or give it to my fiancé so that I wont be tempted to look at it when it buzzes. While summer is still here I will opt to grab a notebook instead of my laptop and go sit outside while I work. I will take twenty minutes every night to write in my old journal.

I am going to take the time to rediscover myself and why I am doing the things that I am doing. I am going to remind myself why I loved these activities to begin with. I am going to slow down and remember what makes me happy. Because I can’t keep functioning like this, with my mind wandering in a dozen different directions, unable to focus on the things that I love. I got caught in that loop, and it’s time to break the cycle. I am only glad that I noticed it before I fell any farther down the rabbit hole.

Technological Love Spat meets Determination

I’m writing this post on my cell phone because my laptop and router seem to be having yet another lovers quarrel, and the router is refusing to let anyone connect to resolve the conflict. She has figuratively locked herself in the bathroom and until she decides to open the door and reconnect to the outside world, I am stuck typing on this teeny little touch pad. My fingers are far too large for this and autocorrect is getting much too clever for her own good tonight. But I am still here, writing away.

This isn’t the first time that my two little technogoical love birds have found themselves in a spat- oh yes, I have bore witness to many a sudden disconnection- leaving me awkwardly hoping that the cute little quip I had finally concocted managed to save before the technogoical silent treatment ensued. Normally when this happens I go through a few stages of my own grief. First there is denial, where I repeatedly click the refresh button and hold my breath. Then there is anger (I will spare you the visual, but needless to say, it involves some very colorful swear words and threats- lots and lots of threats). After that I reach the bargaining stage: trying to make deals with my little cyber couple, using every episode of Friends I have ever seen to convince them that they do love each other and communication is the key to their happiness. From there I spiral into depression: I will never be the author that I hoped to be if I can’t depend on the tools at my disposal. I can’t exactly upload a post with my handy dandy notebook. And then I reach that blissful point of acceptance. This is where I resign myself to my fate, go find a tub of ice team, pick up the remote and begrudgingly embrace my writerless fate of The Big Bang Theory. Better luck next time, ole girl.

But that was the old Katie, the pre-goal Katie, if you will. Today slinking away was not an option. Instead I got up, grabbed the leash and walked away my frustration with a very happy dog (simultaneously checking off another item on that ‘goals’ list I made). And when I got home, I was ready to give it my all- even if that meant delicately clicking these touch pad keys and scrutinizing every word to ensure that my chubby thumbs did not completely mangle it (providing autocorrect with creative license to turn it into anything her demonic little heart desired).

What’s the point to this odd little story, you may ask? It’s simple, really. It doesn’t matter what the goal is, there will always be something that decides to stand in your way. Life is good at givingus little tests of faith, trying to find how bad we really want what we are striving for. Sometimes we succeed and show our true grit, other times we fail and slink away to lick our wounds. The point is to get back up and keep on reaching, keeping on pushing yourself one step farther. Be creative if you have to, but don’t give up just because a roadblock tries to fall on you. Sometimes what you really need to do is stick out your tongue at the moody little router and remind her that you have a data plan you have been sparingly using this month for just such an occasion.

You will only be defeated if you let yourself be. If you want an excuse, you’ll find one- the world is full of them. But if you want a solution, take a deep breath, find a new angle and look a little closer. There is always a work-around, if you are only willing to push yourself to find it.

So tonight, I celebrate a small success. It’s just one little post, it’s not my best, it probably won’t be one that anyone finds particularly noteworthy- but it’s here. I set a goal, I promised myself one post every other day. And I kept it even though it was so easy to break, to back down and tell myself that I will simply write two days in a row next time to make up for it. Today I was determined, today I was tested, and today I passed. (Now if I could only find this kind of attitude for my alleged work-out routine. Baby steps, I guess).

Goals from the Ground Up

I have always been single minded and passionate when it comes to the goals that I set out, the dreams that I wish to accomplish. But I am coming to a slowly dawning realization about myself: I have always been the type to have big dreams, I make bold proclamations about goals that I will accomplish, setting out the self-improvement ladder that I wish to climb, but when it comes to the nitty-gritty follow through I get overwhelmed, I fizzle down until I burn out completely.

There is something to be said for chasing your dreams with a vengeance, for putting 110% into everything that you do. You’ll have time to rest when you are dead- isn’t that what they say? The problem with this little nugget of advice: it’s unsustainable. I’ve tried it, I’ve learned this lesson the hard way. You are not built to be on the ground running night and day. Even the ocean knows that it cannot continually charge in it’s assault against the shore- even it knows that there is a time for the tide to go out, to retreat and find safety in it’s own calming waters. Life is full of waxing and waning; there are moments when you will be fully charged and ready to conquer the world, other days the only thing that will heal your soul are yoga pants, a ratty sweatshirt and a mug of steaming hot tea. There is a balance to life that you must embrace.

The difficult piece of this advice: there are far too many things in this world to do and experience, it feels like a waste of your precious time when you are not actively chasing down one of them. The world that we live in is overflowing with adventures to have, new experiences are constantly bubbling over, just waiting for your attention. Is it really any wonder that we struggle to slow down? Can anyone truly blame me for wanting to experience it all?

I have always had high expectations of myself. I want to be the Wonder Woman of my own life. I will openly admit that I selfishly want to be the kind of person that truly lives and makes it all look so damn easy. But the truth is that it’s not easy, and no matter how many times I don a cape- I am still not a super hero. I am simply a girl trying to figure out what path is right for me, or whether I should opt to forge into the overgrowth and create my own.

The crux of my issue was always the same: I needed to learn to follow my own internal rhythms, I needed to scale it down and focus on one thing that a time. I make goals that are too big for my lifestyle, ones that I will never been able to reach out and grab because they are simply to cumbersome for my bumbling fingers. I don’t make room for the question marks in life. Some of the best experiences I have had came without warning, when I took an opportunity that was presented to me without any idea where it would lead. When I try to over-plan my life to fit those illustrious goals, then I don’t make time for the real adventures that the world is literally throwing in my lap. There are so many things in life that you cannot plan or prepare for. There are wrenches out there who have a singular goal in life: to throw themselves into any well thought out plan you may have created. There are inevitabilities and contingencies. In a nutshell, you cannot plan for everything, and nor should you. By ignoring these possibilities, you are setting yourself up for failure and frustration.

I need to stop trying to plan out virtually every minute of my life and give myself an opportunity to actually live it. There is a balancing act that I need to work on. It is time to take one of my own lessons to heart and work on baby steps, to build the foundation that will serve me farther down the road. I need to focus on one piece of the puzzle instead of overwhelming myself with the big picture.

August is almost over, and with it, the goals I have set for myself have turned a bit sideways. So it’s time to take a deep breath and slow it down. I knew that this would be a busy month, so I think I will forgive my lack of focus- at least this time. For the next eleven days, I am going to start setting myself up for a successful September.

My goals for the last part of the month:

Put up a new blog post every other day
Plan out some of my topics and research projects for September
Finally finish the first draft of my July Camp Nano project
Walk the dog daily (otherwise he turns into a bored psychopath- think of a three-year old on a sugar high and you’ll have a rough idea of the madness that ensues. I’m just thankful he doesn’t have opposable thumbs)
Stretch twice a day
Make up my meal and fitness plan for September (because cultivating the body is just as important as cultivating the mind- and its also the one I am constantly neglecting).

There- that doesn’t seem too crazy, now does it? I need to work on the building blocks to get myself back on the right track. I need to work on my balance. With baby steps I will stand a chance. I have a hundred other things on my much bigger to-do list, and this doesn’t meant that I wont attempt to tackle a few of them while I am at it, but right now I am building my base. I need something solid to leap from. I will never make it if I don’t first create a firm footing to rest on. I can breath easy knowing I am building the habits that will help me succeed later.