Five-year Goals

A few months ago, I was in a small group of people who, through the pandemic, became friends. We lifted each other up when we were feeling down, became accountability partners and encouraged each other to go after their dreams.

We made vision boards and shared them with each other because it’s a well-known theory if you put something out into the universe, it will manifest. I hadn’t made one before but thought it was something that couldn’t really be done wrong. I’ve always had a love of words so most of the things I attached were words, small phrases like “fancy but not too fancy,” “small changes,” “she can,” “I did it,” and other positive words. I included a picture of a large stack of books and a cover someone designed for one of my books that I hope to publish. I put a picture of a piano on there because I’d love to learn to play piano. I had a few other items and thought the board turned out well. I was proud of it. I’m not often proud of myself and even less often do I admit it.

At any rate, I shared my board and was shortly after brought to tears. Someone questioned why I included certain things and asked if it was just thrown together. I cried because I cry a lot. But also because I thought I was among friends, and though some of my dreams may have seemed ridiculous, a vision board isn’t meant to have limits. You are supposed to stretch yourself and imagine yourself doing the unimaginable. I was crushed.

It took me a few weeks after that to hang my board up on my wall. I had convinced myself my dreams were ridiculous. That they didn’t matter. That there was no way I’d achieve any of it anyway. Maybe I won’t ever learn to play piano but I know that is not impossible. I played the flute for 6 years, and though they do not belong to the same family of instruments, I know how to read music.

I’m not sure I’ll ever have a pet monkey or be able to tend a garden properly. But maybe I can. I don’t know. What I know is if I don’t work and don’t start to believe I can do it, I certainly never will. A good friend of mine reminds me of that often – maybe you can or you can’t but if you don’t try, you won’t.

My therapist and I frequently discuss my recurrent episodes of negative self-talk. It’s brutal. I hear one comment that could be a little bit critical and one thought turns into two, then three, then dozens and they don’t stop. I spiral until I’ve talked myself out of anything and everything.

She told me part of what’s holding me back from achieving anything is that I’m too focused on the outcome. I can have dreams. I can speak them into the universe and hope they manifest. But if I focus simply on the outcome, and not the steps I’ll have to take along the way and the things I can do to get there, I’ll never achieve anything. I’m so overcome with a fear of failing that I don’t even try. I’m standing in my own way. No comment from any other person is the reason I can’t do something. My vision board can be covered in things that no one else believes I can do but it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I have to believe I can and I have to try.

In five years, I hope to be a published author. I don’t know if that means I’ve published one book or ten, and it doesn’t at all mean I need to be a best seller. I just want to publish a book. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a kid and since then, I’ve always written in some way. I’ve journaled, written poetry, blogged and started a few novels. I write simply because I love to write. And if I never publish, that’s okay. But if I continue to work diligently on this goal, I think it is one I can achieve.

I want to be in healthy relationships with myself and my spouse. I know I have to work on myself first but I cannot neglect my husband either. I cannot sacrifice my marriage to make myself better. I need to be better for myself so I can be a better wife. I don’t know what a healthy relationship with myself looks like but with more therapy and more self-reflection, I hope I will learn what that looks like. If I can’t take care of myself, value myself and love myself, I cannot do those things for a spouse or romantic partner.

The other, larger ambition I have is to open a non-profit mental health clinic. I’ve dealt with depression since the age of 13. I’ve had thoughts of killing myself hundreds of times and have attempted it twice. I’ve suffered from a low self-esteem for even longer. I’ve never truly loved myself. Some days, I don’t even like myself. For almost three decades, this is where I’ve been and it is not a fun place to be in. I don’t want to stay here for another 30 years. I’d love to be out of it sooner rather than later.

I’d love to overcome my depression, or at least make it manageable. I’m currently in weekly therapy and am working with a psychiatrist to find the right medicinal combination. Depression is really difficult to treat because it takes a lot of time, especially when medication is involved. There is no magic way of identifying exactly the right medication. And suspecting I have bi-polar, my doctor is having a more difficult time finding the right combination. The one that will make me feel better, not for a day or two, but long-term.

In the span of eight months, my prescriptions have changed probably ten times, the latest change coming just this week. Most drugs of this type take a few weeks to work if they’re going to and it is frustrating to be on something for a month or longer only to learn it isn’t the right one. Despite the number of times we’ve changed, I cannot put into words how grateful I am that I have a doctor who not only loves a challenge, but one who will not stop trying. This is the first time in my life I’ve had someone who is actively trying to help me. The first time I’ve actually been treated. The therapy I was in as a 20-year-old was minimal, short lived, and not helpful at all. Having dealt with mental illness as long as I have, there is a lot to work through.

My challenge has taught me that the way society treats people with mental illness is lacking. BIG. This is why I want to start a facility. I don’t want anyone else to feel like I do, and certainly not for as long as I have. The problems are plentiful though. Diagnosing and treating mental illness takes a lot of time which equals a lot of money. Insurance is great but it doesn’t pay for everything. And for those without insurance, it’s unaffordable in most cases.

I’ve been able to get through some of my toughest times because I’ve had a support system. Some people don’t have health insurance, some people don’t have a support system and some have neither. I don’t think it’s fair that someone cannot be helped and given the proper support to overcome a mental illness simply because they don’t have money.

People who deal with depression don’t have a program that resembles AA or NA. These organizations have helped numerous people navigate alcoholism and addiction. The meetings are free and available worldwide, and attendees are among peers who truly understand how they feel and what they are dealing with. There is nothing like this for people who battle anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation and other mental illnesses. I strongly believe a support system alone would have a huge positive impact.

I want to build a community that offers free counseling, proper medication management where needed, access to free or low-cost prescriptions, and most of all a group of people who can empathize with others. A community who understands what it’s like to fight an uphill battle every day. A community who knows what it’s like to want to be wanted, to be loved, to be accepted. A place where people can share their stories free of judgement and receive positive support.

I hope that in five years I’ve navigated my way through my own depression and am able to offer this support to others. It’s known and said often you can’t love or help others until you love and are able to help yourself. That sounds like a simple concept but I’m really quick to extend love and a helping hand to others and not so swift to do that same for myself.

I hope in five years I can look back at everything I’ve learned from my therapist, mentors and own experiences that I can be a mentor to someone else. I want to help someone else get through the struggle.

If I do it right, maybe I can be a published author of a book about how to navigate through this disease. Therapists have great knowledge. Medication helps to remedy the chemical imbalance. But true experience can provide knowledge that nothing else can.

Opening a service such as this is a lofty goal, and in five years I’ll be a mother of three teenagers! That’s enough work on its own, I’d imagine. But my hope is that, over the course of the next few years, I will be on the other side of this mountain I’m climbing. Making it to the other side means I’ll be equipped to guide my kids through their own challenges. It means I’ll be a better mother and example to them. They deserve better and so do I.

I know we all made five-year goals in 2015 that we thought got wiped away when the pandemic hit in 2020. But maybe they just got rerouted. I don’t know what will happen over the next five years, or even tomorrow. I do know that I want to do better, be better and live better and that’s where my focus will be, no matter what the universe throws at me.

Junk in the Trunk

When I started therapy almost a year ago, I had no idea what to expect. Aside from seeing a doctor as a child to end my night terrors, the only therapy I’ve had was over twenty years ago and it was in a group setting. I didn’t participate much because no one was forced to share or talk, and I was 20 years old, feeling very alone and didn’t want to exist anymore. The last thing I wanted to do was be vulnerable, especially to strangers.

I imagine the first few visits with a therapist is a little uncomfortable for anyone. Starting therapy while in a pandemic when many doctors’ offices are closed is no different. The first time I spoke to my therapist, we were on the phone for nearly an hour and I felt like I could have talked to her forever. But I don’t think it was until 6 or 8 months into treatment that I stopped experiencing anxiety in the couple hours before a session.

While doing therapy via video chat has its advantages – no driving to and from appointments, no need to get dressed (though I do) – it also has its disadvantages. One of them, because of quarantine, is the lack of privacy. Everyone is home and it makes finding a quiet place to be alone difficult.

I initially drove to a nearby parking lot where I could be alone and soak in a little sun at the same time. But that ended after a few weeks because of the interruptions in the internet service. My therapist kindly reminded me that our time together is valuable and that I deserve to be able to use all 60 minutes. She requested that I stay home for sessions where the internet is more reliable. While that is true, again, finding a place where I’d be undisturbed was still a challenge.

Because it was summer time, I elected to start doing my sessions in the garage. I’d set up a workspace last spring to attend a virtual writing workshop. I had a table with a neutral-colored blanket spread across the top, a recliner that we no longer use in the house and a nice view of the outside. This worked great for a while. But nice weather meant kids running in and out causing frequent interruptions.

When this space was no longer the best option, I began doing sessions from the back of my car. This is less than ideal but it wasn’t much different than my parking lot sessions, only now I was tucked in the space between the back seat and rear door instead of in the front seat. By this time, fall was near and the temperature was just beginning to go down. Having the option to be “inside” meant I could stay warm but also be in a private space. I was able to plug in my laptop using an extension cord and most times I’m not interrupted.

The back of my van quickly became my safe space and I made the joke to my therapist that I was leaving the “junk in the trunk.” She chuckled a bit but it’s also fitting.

While the topics discussed in therapy aren’t junk, it’s a good place to sort through the clutter that’s filling the mind. Several years ago, I wrote a piece about finding a box in my closet full of tangled up wires. You know when you plug in various things to your TV and though you don’t crisscross or tie the cords together, they ultimately end up that way? The same thing happens if you put them in a box. How does this happen??

Anyway, I often imagine if I could see inside my brain, I would find a similar situation. There’s a lot going on and often times it doesn’t all make sense. What I’ve learned from working with my therapist and my mentor is that we can begin to untangle this mess we feel we’re trapped in one step at a time.

Rather than looking at the big messy pile as one big wad of confusion, frustration and turmoil, we can examine each component separately. We can grab onto one end of one element and treat it with great care and compassion, as though it’s the only thing troubling us. Doing this piece by piece, the once seemingly endless pile becomes smaller and smaller. Sure, other complications will arise and maybe the mess will never be obsolete. But getting it to a point where it’s manageable, rather than nonexistent, is the goal.

A crucial part of being able to manage the mess is recognizing our own role in its accumulation. I learned early in therapy and my mentor program that the things I consider to be monumental and defeating are, in fact, not so uncommon and not as powerful as I’m allowing them to be. We will always be faced with situations and challenges that are out of our control. But each one is an opportunity to learn, grow and use the tools we’ve been given to overcome it. Personal contributions to the mess could be paralleled to that of our successes. Nothing is handed to us. It doesn’t matter who our parents are, where we went to school, what clothes we wear, etc. To achieve anything, we have to put in some work.

I’ve learned I often don’t embrace opportunities because I’m scared of failing. Whether or not I do is not up to me. What is up to me is taking a chance, trying and doing my best. A few months ago, I was presented with two new opportunities at work – a leadership program and a mentorship program. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do either. I was recommended for the leadership program the previous year and was not accepted. I wasn’t ready to be rejected again, let alone twice. I sought advice from a friend who said this – I don’t know if you’ll get accepted or not but I do know if you don’t apply, you definitely won’t.

I applied to both. I was not accepted to either. And then I moved on. It was a bit of a disappointment but knowing I tried and offered the best of myself by giving the most honest answers I could to the questions I was asked was its own success, and that was all I could do.

I’ve also learned my own resistance makes any situation much worse than it is. No one wants to feel pain, sadness, frustration, or any other negative emotion. But trying to fight off the negativity often does the opposite of what we desire. Instead of getting rid of it, it multiplies. If we can accept the negative emotion, recognize its cause and in an objective manner decide what to do about it, we’ll find ourselves to be more at peace.

This idea is not any different than the concept described in The Secret by Rhonda Byrne when she says "If you can think about what you want in your mind, and make that your dominant thought, you will bring it into your life." Think of when you get a new car, or want a new car, and suddenly, everywhere you go, you see that kind of car. The same idea is shared in the Bible in Matthew 15:17 – “Don’t you see that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and then out of the body?” The lesson is taught in Buddhism as “The mind is everything. What you think, you become.” And you can find dozens of other teachings that provide the same lesson – whatever we’re putting our energy into is what’s going to thrive.

I’ve spent many hours trying to accept this idea because it’s much easier to blame my depression and anxiety. For too long, I’ve gotten away with blaming anything or anyone but myself as the cause for my unhappiness. Yes, I have a clinical diagnosis and some of it is due to a chemical imbalance. But I can decide what to do with it. I can choose to let it overpower me or I can take the power back. I can use the tools I’ve been given and make my adversary small. I can choose to carry around the frustrations, give into the negative thinking and spiral out of control, or I can welcome it as it comes, accept its presence and then move on. I can proceed without it. I can leave the junk in the trunk.

Ending the Nightmares

I recently started reading When Things Fall Apart, Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chödrön. In one chapter she recounts a story of her best friend who began having nightmares in which she was being chased by monsters – running away from something scary and unfamiliar. Pema asked her if she’d ever turned around to look at them, to see them, to face them. She said no and Pema suggested in the next nightmare to turn around and run towards them rather than away. Her friend did just that and the nightmares ended.

The fascinating part of this story for me is that one even has the ability to control themselves within a dream. I always believed dreams were part of our subconscious and we simply had no influence on them. Yes, I know you can eat certain foods or do activities near bed time that could affect your dreams, but I didn’t know you could decide to perform a specific action and then actually do it.

Beyond that, it reminded me of the nightmares I had as a child. I don’t remember the number of years I had them but in addition to bad dreams, I experienced night terrors that included sleep walking. I don’t remember much about them, which I’ve heard is normal. I’ve been told most of the time when they happen, the person doesn’t even know they woke up the night before.

My mom told me in one instance I moved a chair or stool to the refrigerator to get a pair of scissors from the top. After I got them, I found a book and shredded it. Another story she told me was that I began to walk down the stairs in our house. A few steps down, I turned around and said to her “Mommy, this could be dangerous,” and then I continued going down. I’ve been told numerous times by friends and my father that I would often get up during the night and talk to the stove.

The only detail I actually remember about the experiences is that when I would sleepwalk, the room seemed as though it was infinitely large. It was solid white all around, pristine white floors and walls, and no matter how long or far I walked, I could never reach the wall.

When I read the passage in Chödrön’s book about her friend’s nightmares ending once she changed the narrative, it reminded me of when my nightmares and night terrors ended. It wasn’t exactly the same but it did involve making a conscious, concrete change. My mom had taken me to a therapist – I don’t know for how long or what her specialty was, or even how old I was. The one detail I vividly remember is her asking me if I had any toy monsters at home and if so, to bring her one.

My dad used to commission things out of metal and he had a large castle. We’d play with it, driving Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars through it, give residence to our dolls and animal figurines. I must have told him about my appointment, or my mom did, because I remember him giving me a tiny toy monster to take to the doctor. When I took it to her, she said something about making the monsters go away. Then she opened a drawer in the table beside her and pulled out a small metal box, about the size of a cash box. She lifted the lid, put the monster inside and locked the box. She then put the box back inside the drawer, slid the drawer shut and locked it. I’ve not had a nightmare since then.

I’ve been working with a mentor for almost a year now and she tells me repeatedly if I change the narrative, I can change the story, change my thought patterns, change my life. Ultimately, we all want to be happy but often times, our old habits are the very thing standing in our way. We’re self-sabotaging and have no idea we’re doing it. We aren’t aware because it’s what we’ve always done, and we’ve never been taught how to change it, that we have the power to change it.

She’s also told me that if I can accept pain, frustration, or any other emotion, the discomfort of it will soon disappear. I’ve tried this on a couple of occasions, most recently when symptoms of carpal tunnel flared in my right arm.

I played the flute for six years, all throughout middle and high school. I have worked a job involving a cash register or computer since I was 16. All of this repetitive motion led to having carpal tunnel. It was at its worse when I was in the last few months of my first pregnancy. There wasn’t much I could do at the time and my doctor said once the baby was born it would go away. And it did.

When the numbness and tingling began about a month ago and persisted for two weeks with no relief, I remembered my mentor's words - “accept it as it is." During my meditation session the next morning, I invited and welcomed the numbness, tingling and pain. Since that day, the symptoms have mostly resolved. Is it coincidence and they would have begun to resolve anyway? Perhaps. But there really is no way to know. What I do know is that I welcomed all of those things instead of wishing them away and they’ve gone. There are moments during the day where I experience mild symptoms but they are not persistent as they had been. This lesson also became valuable when my therapist said to focus on emotional acceptance.

I’ve asked my mentor on many occasions if she’s confident I have what it takes to change. She has complete, unwavering faith in me and when I am not able to trust myself and my own abilities, I remind myself that she believes in me. She’s no fool and would not be working with me and giving me her time and resources if she didn’t truly believe the return on her investment would be worth it.

As a small child, I’d go to bed every night wondering if I’d have another bad dream. I’d wake up wondering if my siblings woke up with me and sat and laughed at me again, as they often did. I’d wonder if they’d ever end. What I didn’t know to even think of at the time was what I could do to change it. Thankfully, there are people who do know we have the power within us to flip the script and who are willing to share how it can be done.

If I was less than ten years of age and unaware that, not only did I have the ability and power to change my life, but was able to do it, then surely now at 41 I can do the same. I can combat my negative thought patterns. I can make a conscious decision to do better, to do different, to do more, to do what is good for me, so that I can live the happy life that I deserve.

Listen to the Wind Chime

The last time I remember setting a concrete, real resolution at the beginning of a new year was back in middle school when I vowed to stop drinking Mountain Dew. I was drinking 6 to 8 cans a day, and almost always had one in my hand. Honestly, I never thought it tasted much better than anything else, and I wasn't much of a soda drinker otherwise. I'm not sure why I began drinking it - maybe because my brothers always had it - but for years, I drank several a day. 

Then one year I just decided to not drink it anymore. I think since then I've had one or two. I didn't do it because I was having trouble sleeping. I didn't do it because of the inability to concentrate at school or work. I didn't do it for weight issues. I just did it because something inside me said it was a good decision.

Several years ago, without a real promise or effort, I stopped drink soda altogether. I've had it sparingly since that time but am now mostly a coffee, tea and water girl. Seven months ago, when I began taking medicine for my depression, my doctor stressed the importance of not drinking alcohol while taking it. Sure, it's probably not going to matter much if I drink a glass of wine or have a beer once in a while. But because medicines of this sort are so much trial and error, I took her warning seriously and the last beer I had was the day we buried my dad on June 27. My medications have changed since that time and her warnings seem to have subsided, but something inside me, again, said this was a habit I needed to remove from my life.

For the past couple of years, in place of a resolution I've chosen a focus. To me, a focus does not hold the same amount of weight because the language is different. For example, rather than saying I want to lose this number of pounds, you can say I want to eat healthier, and then you change your eating habits. Instead of a strict gym commitment, you could vow to get more physical activity - walk, bike, hike, etc. By making the terms looser and more broad, it's almost impossible to fail.

A couple years ago, I wanted to spend more time reading. I'd always loved reading as a kid and hadn't done much of it for leisure after I got married and had kids of my own. I found a book, read it and my love for reading was reignited. I didn't own many books at that point and knew if I was going to achieve my goal of reading more, I needed to get more books. I got more books and I read more. I didn't need to spend a lot of money, or even a certain amount of time each day reading. I didn't need to read a book a week, three a month or fifty in a year. I just wanted to read more, and I succeeded.

2020 was a year none of us could have anticipated, especially when making a new resolution or setting a new focus. A lot of what we planned got canceled and we had to adapt to a new way of doing everything. We were hit with a lot of inconvenience, but I think if we all dig deep, we can admit that we also learned something.

I began meditating in late May, about a month after my father died. I'd always liked the idea of meditation but never took time to learn how to do it. A friend advised trying it, first for only 3 minutes, and see what happens. I wasn't committed to making it work so if it didn't I wasn't going to be upset. If it became something I was able to incorporate as a daily practice, that was also fine, and it wasn't going to hurt anything either way. I think the resistance to try before came from a few things. First, I'd never known anyone who meditated. I'd always associated it with other cultures and religions. Second, I wasn't sure when or how to start. I imagined it would be awkward - and in the beginning it was. Finally, I had a misconception that I needed to sit in a specific place, position myself in a specific way and be in complete silence. As a mom of three, complete silence does not exist!

I've missed a day here and there, but since that first three-minute session, I've meditated almost daily. It's become something I enjoy and look forward to. I am not always sure of the impact of small changes and new habits, especially when they don't give tangible results, but on more than one occasion I've been able to say "that's meditation at work". One day last week I opted for 20 more minutes of sleep in place of my morning session before my work day. My focus and attention the entire day was completely scattered. I was off task more than I was on and I couldn't sit still.

Most days I meditate sitting on the floor or upright on a chair or sofa, and though I'm often alone, I can tell you it's NEVER silent. I'm a person who doesn't always buy into 'never' and 'always' because I think those are two things that frequently have exceptions. But in this case it's true. I can hear the coffee pot brewing, the hum of the heater, sometimes rain or thunder outside, and other times the meowing of one of our cats. 

The closest I've been able to get to complete silence is my time in meditation. And when the sounds of everything else subsides, I can hear the unique song of one of my wind chimes. If the weather is calm it moves slowly and softly. If it's stormy or windy, the sound is louder and more aggressive. Either way, it takes the rest of the world to quiet. Only then can I hear it and it is one my favorite sounds.

The soft melody I hear reminds me often of that tiny voice inside of each of us. Some call it a conscience. Maybe it's our instinct or our gut. Whatever you call it, it's always present, and like the wind chime, sometimes it's whispering to us and other times it's shouting. Often times it takes shutting off the rest of the world for us to really hear it. Like when I knew I needed to stop drinking Mountain Dew, soda and alcohol. My inner wind chime was singing to me. Even when we can't hear anything, it's still there. These quiet, almost silent times, are when I'm able to hear the true melody of the voice within myself and get honest and real about where my energy needs to be directed.

When I considered what to focus on this year, I had to begin by asking myself what I learned from last year. In addition to learning how to meditate on a very basic and beginner level, I took away two valuable lessons that will remain significant for the rest of my life.

First, I learned that I am not alone. No one is alone. I've struggled for decades with suicidal ideation and depression, and I know people who've dealt with both, and some who've taken their own lives. What I learned this year though is that everyone is struggling and while not all struggles are the same, the feelings and the methods we can use to overcome these challenges are similar. 

I've always considered the blessing of my having depression is that I'll be more empathetic toward someone else who is dealing with it. I'll understand the signs, the situations and circumstances that can heighten those feelings, and I'll be able to share coping mechanisms. If I didn't understand my own struggle and didn't have this fight, I wouldn't have those capabilities.

The next thing I learned is what it is really like to be loved and how people treat you when they honestly love you. I wish it hadn't taken me 41 years to learn what love really looks like. Love isn't always getting a yes and being coddled. Love isn't only enjoying the high points of life together. Love is honest and patient and kind. I know I sound like I'm doing a reading at a wedding, but these are truly the characteristics of real love. 

I've gained a lot of friends this year and they've shown me what love is. They're ready to talk on my bad days as much as on my good days. They're happy to listen when I have a problem, but then they expect me to find a solution. They hold me accountable to myself and support me no matter what. It isn't a one way transaction and it doesn't mean we talk every day. They've taught me the value of being as honest and as kind to myself as I am to others. They've taught me the importance of learning to love myself the way I love others - without limits or conditions - even and especially on my worst days.

With these lessons, I could have sat down and participated in the 12 days of Thanksgiving and expressed endless gratitude for a number of things I gained last year. I could have set a resolution to be more strict in my daily gratitude practice. I could work toward increasing my mediation time. I could have done anything. But I don't want to set a resolution I'm likely to fail at. I don't want to do something because I'm obligated to by voicing a new commitment. For me, that takes away the sincerity and excitement. 

Once again I've chosen a focus, and for 2021 it's to be more loving to myself. I am very kind and loving to other people, but I've never spent enough time being kind to or loving myself. Love is shown in a variety of ways so the only way I can fail is to make no changes at all. This isn't something that requires a specific or ritualistic action. It isn't something that needs to cost any money or a lot of time. Self-care and love is as simple as taking time to read something I enjoy. Spending a few extra minutes in the shower because the water is relaxing. Taking a few minutes to "get ready" even if there is nowhere to go. I can put on my clothes and fix my hair simply because it makes me feel better. I can stop making negative comments to myself when I fail and instead accept my humanness. I can stop apologizing for saying no to others because it means saying yes to myself. The list of small things I can do each day is endless. If I have a bad day and the best I can do is get all of the must-dos done, that's okay. Instead of beating myself up for the things I didn't do, I can put be proud of myself for the things I did do.

I think loving others is a critical part of happiness, and it's something we're taught to do from a very young age. I wish I'd been taught with the same intensity about the importance of self-love. But it's been quiet enough for me to hear the wind chime from within and it's time to move forward and it's time to love myself.

 

We're All Becoming Butterflies

I’ve heard or seen someone say, almost every day since March, that 2020 has been a rough year. We all know that by now, and it certainly has given us challenges that no one could have anticipated. Our routines ended suddenly and we were all forced to adapt. We had to learn to do school differently, work differently, shop differently, socialize differently, live differently.

What made these unexpected obstacles even more difficult is that life outside of the pandemic did not slow down. All of the normal hardships of life continued to be thrown our way and, like everything else, we had to learn to cope and work through them differently.

So, yes, in many ways, 2020 has been a difficult year. But it’s also been a year to grow, to learn, and to discover. Some people began a new hobby or developed a new talent. Others used their extra time to catch up on projects they’d been putting off. Some people binged shows and movies on Netflix while others added books to their shelves. Whether you’ve done these or something different, I think at the end of the year we’ll all be able to say we’ve grown in some way.

For me, 2020 will be the year I lost my dad. It always will be, pandemic or not. He had cancer before the virus emerged and he would have died anyway. I fell into a pit of depression when he passed away and I honestly wasn’t sure I would survive. That probably sounds dramatic but it’s true. Every day since I was about 12, I’ve dealt with depression. It’s not a seasonal or situational depression, though sometimes it is worse than other times; it’s a diagnosed, clinical depression. It is a mental illness that I cannot escape.

It’s been a part of my life for so long that I’m not even sure who I would be, or am, without it. I don’t know what it’s like to live without constantly wondering if I’m enough. I don’t know how it feels to only cry when you have a reason to cry. I don’t know what it’s like to get a full night of sleep and not feel exhausted the next day. I don’t know what it’s like to wake up, declare it’s going to be a great day and have a great day. I don’t know any of these things because everything I know, everything I’ve done every single day for the last 3 decades, has been laced with depression.

When my father passed, depression didn’t take a step back and say, “You know what? She’s got enough to deal with without me. I’ll take a break.” It doesn’t work like that. I was so overcome with grief and overwhelmed with emotion and exhausted that I wanted my life to end. I truly did. And had we not all been sentenced to our homes and quarantined, I may have attempted to end it.

This year will always be one that brings up sad memories for me. But it will also be the year I started to make a breakthrough. In March I was invited to become a part of an online community and I met some incredible people. People I’ve learned to trust. People I’ve laughed and cried with. People who have inspired me and given me hope. People who have helped me realize that I am more powerful than my depression, and stronger and smarter than the lies it wants me to believe.

I started working with a mentor who urged me to start therapy. She told me find out who my insurance covers and start making phone calls. When I texted her the first day with the list of names and phone numbers I’d called, she said, “Good. Call more tomorrow.” And this went on until I had an appointment scheduled. I don’t remember the last time someone encouraged me to do something because it was good for me, and then followed up with me to be sure it got done.

I’ve never had individual therapy, and the small amount of group therapy I’ve had in the past wasn’t effective. I was fortunate, after making dozens of phone calls and only getting in touch with a handful of real people, to find a therapist who is a great fit for me. She’s got a good sense of humor, is a fan of puns, uses analogies to illustrate a point, and likes karaoke. If she wasn’t my therapist, we might be friends!

Aside from the fun stuff though, she challenges me. To expect more of and do more for myself. To reconsider ideas, open my mind and heart, and see new perspectives. To step outside my comfort zone, despite all of my whining and objections. I sincerely believe she wants happiness for me, because I deserve better and am capable of making it happen. I remember making an appointment with her and she said I had to take suicide attempts off the table. Thoughts are going to come through and she can’t stop those. She also can’t prevent the attempts; only I can do that. But if I was going to work with her, I needed to be in a place where I was ready to work and not just take the “easy” way out. She made it clear that if I wasn’t ready to work, she wasn’t the therapist for me.

The work with my mentor didn’t stop at finding a therapist. We did daily check-ins for a while, and then we moved to weekly check-ins. She’s given me exercises to do daily, like prayer, breath work, gratitude lists, self-affirmations, and journaling. She’s given me writing exercises that force me to look inward and examine where I’m holding myself back. She’s helped me recognize and admit that self-sabotage, pride, and ego are some of my biggest weaknesses.

She’s given me book recommendations, and turned me on to meditation and gives me different techniques to try. She has never discounted the severity of my depression, but she wants me to realize that I can take away its power if I work hard enough. She knows the work isn’t fun or easy, and she knows I don’t like some of it. She reminds me I won’t win this war in a day but also believes I can and will win if I continue to do the work. She assures me she is not going to abandon me and reminds me that I’m not fighting alone. But most of all, she believes in me.

I don’t know who or where I’ll be when 2020 ends and 2021 begins. But I do know that the cocoon I’ve been trapped in, that’s been so tightly wrapped around me for so long, will be a little looser. I will have grown. I will have learned. I will be a little bit closer to becoming the butterfly that I’m destined to be. And I believe that all of us – whether we’ve learned how to crochet a blanket, become a master chef or reawakened a childhood passion – have grown this year. Every single one of us has done something that we never imagined we could do. We are ALL becoming butterflies!

 

 

 

How am I Powerful?

Five weeks ago, my mentor assigned me the task of writing down, three times a day, three things I am grateful for and three positive statements about myself. I dreaded this assignment. It's easy to think of several things I'm grateful for but thinking beyond food, water, shelter and a job every day requires thinking a bit deeper. A lot of them have been things we often take for granted - a good bed to sleep in, three meals a day, plus snacks if we want, fast and reliable internet service, etc. Other times I've written included things that required a shift in thinking. For example, instead of feeling overwhelmed by the seemingly endless piles of laundry, I can be grateful we have clothes to wear every day. We have the resources to wash and dry our clothes. We have the ability to buy new clothes when we need them. 

I think my favorite one so far has been my neck. Yes, my neck. It's just a neck. But when you're 5'2'' sun visors in the car don't work. Instead, you have the seat as far forward and as high up as you can make it, the visor flipped down, your posture is straighter than ever and you stretch your neck as far as possible to get some relief from the sun. Without a neck, this wouldn't be possible and instead you'd be a hazard on the road. I know they make sunglasses but adult ones are too big for me and the pairs made for children are too small. I have the same issue with hats. I don't fit!

The other part of this exercise - which I anticipated ending after a week - has been more difficult. Prior to suggesting I write three positive statements about myself, she told me I wasn't going to like the assignment. She was 100 percent correct. I don't like it at all and wasn't sure I'd be able to do it even once. I don't like myself much. I think I am likable at times, but my overall opinion of myself is quite poor. She told me to take the negative things I think about myself and write the opposite. I can't use things I already believe, like I'm funny, good at math and punctual. I have to rewire my brain by turning the destructive thoughts into something that will move me in a positive direction.

Coming up with the bad thoughts was easy and flipping them upside down wasn't difficult either. The hard part, which I'm told will happen over time, is believing these things. I've written things like my feelings are important, I matter, I deserve happiness, I'm not a burden, and I am enough. 

At my last therapy session, I shared that I'd been doing this and that I felt uncertain about whether or not they were true rather than not believing them at all. She asked me for examples of things I'd written about myself. I told her one of them was "I am powerful," and she asked me if there was any part of that statement that I DID believe. 

I told her that for as many years as I've been fighting depression and as heavy as it feels some days, I've always been able to get out of bed, get to school or work, bathe myself and eat, and take care of my kids. I know there are people who are not able to do these things because just getting out of bed is exhausting, and anything beyond that seems impossible. I've been fortunate that I've never been in that place, so in that respect maybe I am powerful.This also gave me a new perspective that as hard as some days are, I certainly could have worse days.

I'm on day 32 of this assignment have almost 100 positive statements about myself. In all honesty, I am still unsure about the truthfulness of each one. But if I can ask myself the same question my therapist asked about each one, and find one piece of every statement that I believe, perhaps one day I will fully believe all of them, and know without a doubt that I am powerful.

Disconnected Thoughts

My mom has often told me she doesn’t like social media, more specifically Facebook, because of the constant bickering between your “friends” and family. While I don’t disagree that a lot of this goes on, I remind her that she doesn’t have to engage in any exchange that she believes will cause her to get upset, angry, sad or otherwise; she has a choice to not engage. It’s also her choice to not have social media but having a social media account doesn’t mean you HAVE to argue.

I learned a long time ago if you post anything that can be disagreed with, be prepared for dissension. Often times, people argue about sensitive topics such as religion or politics. But I’ve been involved in arguments, actual heated arguments, over things as superficial as ice cream. I’ve never understood why some people find it difficult to see an opinion different than their own and just move on without engaging. What is the point of arguing? We’re allowed to have different opinions and we should be able to have them while still maintaining a level of respect for the other person.

I’ve found that if you are trying to convince the person to see your point of view and change their mind to align with your belief, it’s a waste of everyone’s time. People hold certain beliefs for a number a reasons. They could have been raised or influenced by their parents to hold that point of view. They could be uneducated about the other side. They could also feel passionately and have a personal reason for feeling the way they feel. Either way, trying to convince someone to change their belief simply because you disagree with it is not productive.

At any rate, it isn’t the presence of or participation in social media that creates disputes. It’s not reading or hearing an opinion different than your own that causes disagreements. It’s the act of engagement and the immersion of ourselves in the discussion that leads to arguments. Yes, we can all learn a lot if we take the time to listen to the other side and can gain a new perspective if we understand why someone may hold a different belief. But we don’t have to engage in these thoughts if it’s going to trap us in a seemingly endless cycle of no progression.

I’ve been using an app called Headspace every day for my mediation, and I recently completed a 30-day course that focuses on self-esteem. While the meditation portion is the same with each course, the different themes offer their own lessons. They open with a minute or so speaking about the theme of the course, begin the meditation time, and then end with repeating the key lesson and takeaway.

The self-esteem course isn’t designed to give you a brand new liking for yourself at the end of the course. That would be so nice! It’s designed to help you consider what is causing you to have negative thoughts or a poor image of yourself. Then it teaches you how to reframe those ideas to improve your thinking in order to shift your perception of yourself.

The problem is, in my case, I’ve gotten so used to beating myself up over small mistakes and speaking negatively to and about myself, that I am convinced these things are true. I believe I’m not worthy. I believe I’m a burden and a waste of time and space. I believe my voice, opinions and feelings are not important. I believe my happiness should not be a priority or a consideration.

That sounds dreadful and it is. But the good news is this – all of those are thoughts. That doesn’t mean their truths. If you examine the word “belief” or “believe,” right in the middle is the word LIE. And that’s what I’ve spent my life telling myself. Lies.

In some cases, I don’t have a full belief that these things are true, but I am uncertain about them. Do I matter? Is my existence valuable? Do I deserve to be happy? Am I a good mom? Sometimes I feel like the answer is yes but just as often, I feel like the answer is no.

The way I perceive and feel about myself really has nothing to do with social media. But what parallels is this – when I tell my mom she doesn’t have to engage with a discussion that will ultimately lead to an argument, she can move right past it and not let it ruin her day, I should be telling myself the same thing about what’s going on internally.

Instead of posting nasty or negative things on social media, I try to post something that is funny or inspiring. I try to use it as a tool to keep in touch with friends and family. I use it to be supportive of others. That is a CHOICE, and by treating it in this way, it doesn’t ruin my day. I see things every day I don’t agree with but I move on. I don’t engage.

What is going on my head is the complete opposite. I am engaging in the nastiness, the negativity and the destructive thoughts and ideas. I’m giving in to the lies rather than simply recognizing them and moving on. I’ve learned through mentors, therapists, mediation and people who have studied the brain for years that our brain is able to be manipulated. It isn’t solid like a rock; it’s more like Play-Doh, at least in the way we can use it.

If I choose to not engage in those thoughts that are harmful and take the time to reframe them into something positive, I can change what I believe about myself. I can change my perception. I can improve my self-esteem. Knowing this is even possible provides a glimmer of hope.

Is it going to happen overnight? Nope. Is it going to happen after 30 days of listening to a lady with a soft voice and an accent telling me to not engage? Nope. I have no idea how long it’s going to take. But if I can learn to trust in the process and just commit to trying and reframing the thoughts, it will happen. I wasn’t born with feelings of worthlessness. I wasn’t born with a fear of constantly disappointing people. Those thoughts developed over time and I allowed them to overpower me. I allowed them to become louder than the other voice inside me. The voice that says I am important, I am valuable, I am worthy. And I’m going to have to fight to take the power back. Fight long and fight hard.

Sometimes giving advice to others is easy but sometimes we need to apply the same lessons and advice to our own lives. More often than not, I think we already know this but resist it for whatever reason. When those thoughts start to pour in, I need to remind myself what I tell my mom – don’t engage.

It’s easy to log off social media, but there is no logging off from our brains. But if we can rewire and reconstruct the way we work and use the brain, we can find great benefits and ultimately live a smarter, healthier, more enjoyable life.