Connecting it all

Hey friends. Today is Thursday in case any of you were wondering. I know days seem irrelevant in the current state of the world, but I am here to remind of arbitrary things like the day of the week and how we are already in the middle of July… somehow. My past week has been a week of grief, strength, and, if I’m being honest, pure angst.

I have been on this up and down rollercoaster of emotions which honestly reminds me of being a teenager. If I had to venture a guess, I would assume this is where the angst is coming from. It’s wild to me that even as a 29 year old I can be transported back to my 16 year old responses so easily. However, I am still 29, so the rollercoaster just ends up giving me acid reflux and neck pain. I’m easing into turning 30 quite swimmingly.

Grief is a funny thing. Not a like LOL hilarious funny thing, but like a this is oddly familiar, yet totally foreign funny thing. Whenever someone I love dies, I am flooded with memories of all the other losses I have experienced in my life. My first experience with death was as a kid. We had barn cats that would always think it was okay to cross the highway and very rarely did they make it. Although, my pet cat Eric (named after Eric Matthews/the boy I happened to have a crush on in 3rd grade with the same name) really did have 9 lives. He was one of our only cats that got hit by a car and ended up surviving. My little miracle kitty. Then, the first human loss I experienced was in high school. It was an odd thing to feel suicidal while also mourning the loss of a teenage life. I think I stuck around in the ‘bargaining’ stage of grief much longer during that period of my life. “Take me instead. Her life was better than mine. Why wasn’t it me?” I remember thinking nothing can feel as painful as this loss, but I was wrong. Each loss cuts through me, without warning, and I lose my own breath when someone else loses theirs. What I have learned from each loss is how grief is not a straight line of moving on, rather it is a scar that we will always live with and while the mark may dim it will always remain.

For a long time I hated my body. (I promise this connects, just hear me out.) For a long, long time I hated my body. I would curse the way it looked and prayed that some how it could change. In the last few years I have worked really hard to not only be comfortable with my body, but to love it. Each mark and dimple no longer gets harsh words tossed at them, but rather each part of myself has felt a gentle touch and words of love. Part of the past hatred included my scars- both the physical and psychological one. (See I told you it would connect again.) In my discovery of self love I have also learned how to heal in the other parts of life. Those scars, those losses, no matter how painful are the result of deep and vast love. I no longer sit around in the bargaining phase, instead I think about all of the ways that life impacted me. I use a gentle touch and words of love to work through grief.

When I first started blogging, I didn’t expect to ever right about loss or depression or mental health or a number of other topics I have touched on. In the beginning it was about me documenting my weight loss journey. I’m pretty sure I am 10lbs heavier than when I first started blogging, so jokes on all of you. The thing is, I didn’t realize that writing would actually help me overcome this desire to change everything about me. I didn’t realize that all this healing, this whole time, was actually a way for me to understand the way I move through the world.

I celebrated my one year anniversary of blogging [with more fervor and tenacity] recently and I spent some time reading through old post. I got to read real moments of self-discovery that I can remember viscerally. I am lucky enough to be able to go back in time and feel parts of myself that I might have otherwise forgotten. Through this reading, as I was mourning, I realized all the tools I have in my toolbox to get through hardships. All the ways I have built a community around myself to fall upon when I am struggling. I will go through a million more hard moments in my life, but I finally realize that I will make it through all of them.

With a loss there is a moment where we look upon the persons life and wonder if they were happy? If they did all the things they wanted to do? The thing I have realized about these questions is that we are partially asking them because we want to be happy; we want to do all the things we want to do. So, as I continue to move forward with this new scar I am being gentle with myself, I am using my tools, I am leaning on my supports, and I am reflecting on all the ways death brings new life.

A[wo]men

physical, mental, imaginary.

round, square, heart.

scars come in many shapes.

love them all

as they are u

-seeing all of urself

 

 

 

 

 

A Butterfly Spirit

Hi, friends. A lot has happened in the last two weeks, but I don’t want to talk about most of them. Most of them are minuscule and irrelevant at this point in time. This is not to diminish my experiences, but rather to express the fact that I’ve experienced a great loss this week. A loss changes your world, alters your perception, and minimizes all else around you. This past week my supervisor, my work advocate, my friend passed away- Vilma.

She was the light during one of the darkest times in my working life. I would work with her often and sit in her office. She had the worlds softest giggle that made things just seem like they would be okay. Vilma was an employee for 31 years, so her knowledge of the job was invaluable. I would often sit with her as she described what the role was like ‘back in the day’ and all the major changes along the way. During this time of uncertainty she would always say “Sarah, I’ve seen some really hard times here before. We’ll get through this.” She shared stories of her youth, how she would always leave her hair long and natural like I do and would only wear skirts and dresses, unlike I do.

We would often sit laughing at the fact that she had an iPhone 6 that refused to hold a charge. She would say to me “Sarah, come look at this. It’s at 15% and I haven’t used it all day!” I would ask her why she didn’t just get a new phone all the time and she always said, “eh, it still works though. Why would I get a new one?” And we would both giggle. She told me she loved her phone before this one and would still have it to this day if it didn’t shatter in her hands. We laughed at how the pieces of her old phone just broke. She thought it was a defect in the way it came apart. She made it clear to me thought that she didn’t need anything fancy, she just needed things to work. I admired this about her.

She also had a love for sweets. On my lunch break she would often give me her Starbucks gift card to pick her up a Frappuccino to help her get through the day. The last few times I worked with her I also would grab us both lunch to ease her need to walk far. Through this I learned that she loved Italian subs, with extra mayo, and Cole slaw on the side. She would also always want me to grab her a shake, but last minute would say- no I don’t need that, maybe next time. I wish I got her the milkshakes anyway. She would make hot cocoa in the break room, even on hot days when she needed a “quick fix”. Her face would light up when our coworkers would bring in donuts or bake sweet treats. I loved to see her smile.

She talked to me a lot about her family. It was clear she loved her family more than anything in the world. I got to hear stories of her father who worked in fancy hotels, and the stories he would tell her and the way he watched the landscape of New York City change over time. She spoke of her parents unending energy, even as they aged. She told me how much she hopes to have that much energy when she gets older. I wish I was right when I said “I bet you will, it runs in your family.” She should’ve have gotten that chance.

Her room was a spectacle and every patient that entered would say “I love all your decorations.” I wish I could’ve taken credit, but I’d always respond with “unfortunately, it’s not my room, but it’s my favorite room to work in.” Vilma was a big fan of tchotchke’s many of which she had collected over the years of working. I could spend hours sitting in her office discovering things I had no idea were there before. My favorite was a sign that read ‘kindness is always free” something Vilma always lived by. It sat across from where our patients sat, so I always wondered if it also served as a reminder for those sitting in that chair. Not that they would need it- Vilma was so kind it just radiated and permeated those around her.

Over the last few days I went from sadness that took over my entire body, to anger, to complete numbness. I knew writing this post would help me break out of feeling numb and enter a stage of feeling complete luck for having known such a beautiful person (while also feeling continued sadness). Writing and talking about my memories just reminds me that she was right when she said “I’ve seen some really hard times before. We’ll get through this.” The thought of getting through this without her is hard to imagine, but I know I can. She has given me strength over these last few months and will continue to be a guiding light for me. She may be gone, but her warmth, kindness, and maternal energy will always be with me.

I hope wherever you are, Vilma, there are endless shakes and sweets. I love you.

A[wo]men

your voice,

a memory.

ingrained forever-

soft,

gentle,

calm.

-a butterfly spirit

Alaska, My Love

Woah, y’all. Life has been crazy. I am talking “can you believe?” crazy! The kind of crazy that makes you want to dance and smile and be all kinds of happy. The thing I find most interesting about this happy dance time of mine is that I find it more difficult to write when I am feeling good. I believe it is similar to the idea that ‘therapy is only necessary when you aren’t feeling good’. It is supposed to fix the problems and there can’t possibly be problems when you are happy, right? *Momentary pause as I try to control my laughter* So, my life is the good kind of crazy right now, complete with all emotions coursing through my body, but joy is leading the way. This shift in emotional leaders all started when I got to leave the island.

I am sure you all would like to hear a little bit more about my trip to Anchorage because I really left y’all hanging. IT WAS MAGICAL. Anchorage is absolutely beautiful. It is the type of city that is surrounded by mountains and water and so. many. stars. Which reminds me, I had my first Northern Lights spotting. I would like to beg anyone to go see the Northern Lights and then try to argue with me about how life isn’t just a big magic show. THEY ARE LIGHTS THAT DANCE ACROSS THE SKY. Need I say more? On top of that, there is food that is to die for, hiking that is out of this world, a mall with an ice skating rink and a bowling alley… and my favorite part, Target. Yes, I am basic and yes, I did go to Target twice in the five days I was there. Not sorry.

As always on my trips I got to meet some wonderful people. That is always my favorite part of traveling. I am revived by the stories l hear from the people I will probably never see again and they still manage leave this impression on me that lasts forever. In case you forgot from my previous post, I was in Anchorage for a work training. It really sets the tone for meeting a lot of people doing some pretty bad-ass work in Alaska. I met a woman from Wisconsin *represent* who vacationed in Alaska and her vacations would get longer and longer until she just decided to stay. Since moving here she has been dedicated to building strong families across Alaska. We also talked about the Packers making it to the Super Bowl this year and her desire to never birth her own children. She was fantastic. I also met a woman from the FBI who works on fighting sex-trafficking and we talked about what self-care looks like for her in her line of work. In case you are wondering, it involves a lot of talking. There was also our fantastic bartender at the hotel who whipped out a knife to demonstrate that ‘Lucy can take care of herself!’ Oh, and the ice cream shop owners that were both packing heat as we ate our ice cream. Plus, out of all these great people, I also got to know my coworkers better! Couldn’t have asked for a better trip.

However, the most interesting aspect of leaving was missing my small town of Craig. If you go and read some of my previous posts, never did I ever think I would say those words. I really did though. I missed not having so many options. I oddly enjoy knowing I have basically one store to get my groceries. I also enjoy not having a Dave and Busters because that really messed with my head. I will never re-enter that hell pit again. I missed no traffic. I missed the air in Craig. Anchorage is exceptionally dry. (That tundra life tho.) I missed my friends and my job and my views and my car. It has been a little less than 5 months since I have moved here and I finally feel like I am starting to put down some roots and this odd little island is starting to feel more and more like home.

The thing I truly love about Prince of Wales Island, is the rich history that seeps into the way of life here. I spent yesterday out in Kasaan which is the Tlingit word translating to beautiful town. Kasaan 100% lives up to it’s name. It was flush with deep green trees and water that extended out to kiss the base of mountains. I have a jacket pocket filled deep with seashells and stones. I helped harvest devils club which could potentially be one of my cool, new hobbies? Though jam making is still a top contender. I felt extremely calm as I peeled the bright green root from the branch which helped make devils club tea. In that moment I understood why people come to vacation here and sometimes never leave. This island can transport you to a different time. I got chills as I sat in the Chief Son-i-Hat Whale House after just listening to the history and recent restoration of the ‘house with no nails’. MAGIC. I learned so much yesterday that I feel like I could write a whole book. As a person that loves school it was my favorite thing to be able to sit quietly and inhale all the knowledge that people on this island not only know, but live and breath by.

As is evident by my previous blog posts, I have bad days… sometimes bad weeks. Heck, high school was like four bad years. Yet, the more I am here the less I find myself trapped in that negative space. As I referenced in the beginning I feel happy and it is not because I don’t feel those other emotions, but because those other emotions pale in comparison to a clear sky in Alaska. I talk to families day in and day out about trauma and when I come home I take just a moment to look up. It makes the pain and heartache feel manageable. Witnessing nature is the best medicine I have found thus far and Alaska is abundant in it. Alaska, slowly, but surely, I am falling for you.

*Featured image was taken yesterday from the Kasaan beach. For more pictures from my Alaskan adventures follow me on Instagram: sarahlorrainerobinson *

It’s Island Life, Baby

Before I begin my post today I have to comment on the bravery of our youth. Unfortunately, I did not participate in the marches yesterday. I honestly believe that there are more guns than people on this island. I was also informed that it would likely hinder my job with my clients in a lot of ways, so I keep to myself. And by that, I mean I go on social media and retween/reblog/regram and write. These young adults are warriors standing up to bullies. One time in high school me and a friend went around our school hanging posters and creating a Facebook page trying to get people not to vote for one of our classmates who was running for the school board. I thought I was political and involved. Yeesh. This demonstration has proved me wrong. Kids came out in droves yesterday. And so many spoke… publicly… I AM SO IMPRESSED AND INSPIRED. To these young adults, with all your vigor and fight, it is the first time in a long time I could feel change. The youth will save us all from ourselves and I believe that. I was never vocal when I needed to be. It wasn’t until I started blogging that I found a platform that I felt safe/comfortable using my voice. I wish I learned at an earlier age that adults can be wrong and that it happens more often than we think. Yesterdays demonstration was a reminder to me that we are all more powerful than we give ourselves credit for. A sincere thank you to the kids that have found their voice and reminded me of mine. I support you. #MARCHFOROURLIVES

Speaking of more guns than people on this island, on today’s agenda I have decided that I would like to discuss island life. A strange life. A beautiful life. A ‘how the eff did I get here?’ life. Prince of Wales Island, Alaska is unlike anything I have ever heard of. First of all, it is a huge. In fact, it is the fourth largest island in the United States (my source is Wikipedia for that, but I don’t get paid to write this so take that as you may). I haven’t explored much of the island, but I hear it is beautiful. I am waiting for it to warm up just a tad, so I am not just seeing the beauty through my car windows. It rains like most of the time, even in winter, because FUN FACT it is a rain forest. I thought this would get to me, but it really doesn’t. The nice days are extra nice. When the sun is out it is like I am a whole new person. It’s pretty amazing. If you are into nature and/or extremes this place is for you. There are so many little bits and pieces of living on a island that just do not happen on the mainland.

I have officially been here for a little over 3 months and some days it feels as though it has been 3 years and other days it feels like it has been 3 days. Time feels different here. We literally have our own time zone, something I was unaware of until I moved here. I call my friends back on the east coast and they are hopping into bed just as I am finishing work. Scheduling phone calls with people in different time zones is a nightmare. The other reason time feels different here is because we all live on island time. Island time is this fantastic notion that there is no such thing as being in a rush. Work starts at 8, so as long as you are there before 8:30, you good. I bet y’all could get used to that. Going from NYC where everyone is always in a rush to island time has been a difficult transition for me. I am voted most likely to be the first to an event. I am working on slowing down, but I think subway anxiety just never leaves you.

When people see the island, most assume “cost of living must be so low!” HA! Joke is on them. Everything, and I mean everything, we have on the island has to be shipped to us. What does this mean? It means that groceries are outrageous. For my tax refund this year, I decided I can use all my extra cash to by fresh fruits. However, the upside to this is that I am basically only spending money on groceries and rent. There is not really clothing stores here and online ordering has always been troublesome for me. I am short and fat. I don’t like those odds without being able to try something on. Fast food is nonexistent as well. This is a saving grace for me. The only thing we have is two pizza places and a diner. Honestly, (please don’t shun me) pizza is not my favorite. I’d rather have a sandwich. Yeezy, do I miss my sandwich places. Sometimes I dream of a sub from Jersey Mikes or Cousins. I’m pretty sure my first trip off the island I will gain 100 lbs. just because I will be so overwhelmed with my options of fast food I will eat them all. I’m cool with it. As I said though, talk about a money saver. I spent way more than I care to admit on fast food in NYC. I was the queen of grubhub and front door wine delivery. I miss these things while simultaneously being so thankful they are not available to me.

The most fascinating transition on the island has been from winter to spring. I heard it all winter long: “Trust me, it is such a different place when it is spring. All of the sudden there will be whales, seals, otters, bears. [OH MY!] You won’t even recognize the island.” Granted, I have only gotten a glimpse of this, but they were not kidding. I saw my first whale and I was so excited I regressed to being a 2 year old. I was clapping and jumping around. I will not lie… winter is ROUGH here. The sun goes down at like 2pm. It is dark and cold and it was all the more difficult for me because I didn’t have a whole lot of friends because I was/am new. This was the depression cocktail my introvert half of me was looking for. I felt like I was hibernating with the bears. I barely remember the month of December which is v. unlike me because that is my favorite month (and [not] coincidentally the birthday month of moi, Britney, and Jay-z). I can’t even begin to imagine what summer is like here. One nice day with whales and I am a new woman. Rumor has it the sun stays out until 11pm. I am talking the literal opposite of winter. I am also hoping by next winter I will discover a hobby like jam making or something cool like that to occupy my dark days. I’ll use my summer energy to discover such hobby. *My idea of what is cool may vary from others*

Speaking of whales, the nature here is like living on front of national geographic. I see a minimum of 2 eagles a day, and that’s without leaving my apartment. I haven’t seen a bear yet, but I can’t wait. There are tree’s everywhere. Oh and did I mention it is an island, so there is also water everywhere. To quote a personal hero, Moana, “I’ve been staring at the edge of the water, ‘long as I can remember” & it really does call me. I am never as happy as I am when I am in, near, or around water. Good thing I chose an island I suppose. The views are instagram gold. I can’t go 2 days without posting a landscape photo. It’s an addiction. I love to capture the everyday beauty that exists here.

Speaking of beauty, one of my favorite parts of the island are the humans that occupy it. Sure, bears are great, but so are the people! If you would have told me that one day I would be living on an island where MAGA hats are common and guns are owned by everyone you know except for you and the other new person that moved to island, I probably would have been like “nah… I’m good.” Except living here has been a reminder that I believe most people are inherently good. I know this is the hopeless romantic in me and I also know I speak from a place of privilege, but if y’all could see it. I may not agree with their politics or ideals or religion, but if I am ever in a pickle here, I am not worried. It doesn’t matter where I am from or that I am new, people have invited me into their homes. People trust me with their kids. Everyone smiles and says hello to me. If I need something, I can go to my neighbors house and if they don’t have it, someone they know will. I could get all the help I could ever need here. I have not seen a community like this anywhere else I have lived. In New York, I spoke to my neighbors maybe twice and it was only because I was forced on the elevator with them and I hated every minute of it. Here, people talk to you all day long. They also don’t care that I am terrified of guns or have a Hillary picture next to my bed stand. They ask me about my day and how I am settling in and check-in on me. Complete strangers do this. I kid you not. Since I am heavily involved in politics and hope to one day be a politician, it can be hard to separate people from these two polar opposites we have created. I am an optimist through and through. Call me naive (as my first boss out of undergrad did) but I don’t really care. I believe that we as humans care about other humans, first and foremost. We need to break down walls. To do that we need to talk and remember that we all have beating hearts inside of us and we are all connected in this way. I was reminded of this as I watched Queer Eye and that beautiful moment between Karamo Brown, a black man, and Cory, a white cop. If we want to remind people of humanity, we have to demonstrate humanity to all. Not just those who we agree with. Don’t get me wrong, this island has it’s problems and not everyone gets along, but for the most part people have each others backs here. It is a magnificent thing to witness.

I did not expect to go on that rant. Sorry, not sorry.

So, just to recap:

1. ENOUGH
2. Island life is unlike any other life.
3. What is time?
4. ALL MY MONEY GOES TO GROCERIES
5. I love subs.
6. winter is rough
7. summer is magic
8. Prince of Wales is a beautiful place
9. Instagram is my addiction
10. Humans are humans
11. Love wins

I hope this all made sense. I am still getting over a strange sickness and it has been making me wonky. Which reminds me, island life is also living in a petri dish of illness. If you have any questions about island life and my time in Alaska feel free to ask away! And if you are interested in seeing these views I speak of follow me on instagram: sarahlorrainerobinson
 

300 Feet, Please

I have written several things at this point and erased them all. I wrote a poem about nightmares and decided it was shit. I wrote about my evening and thought it was boring. The reason I am hating everything right now is because none of it is honest.

If I am going to be honest, I want to lay down some ground rules:

1. I swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me Yeezy.

Okay that was it. That’s my only ground rule when it comes to telling the truth. And even though we are not in a court of law and could totally be lying to you, I hope you believe that I have my right hand on The Life of Pablo(2016) and my left hand raised.

Okay, I am just putting off the inevitable at this point. The cold hard facts that y’all are dying to hear. Well, here it is.

I don’t want to do this today.

I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to write. I don’t want to get dressed. I sure as hell don’t want to go outside (it’s rain snowing..).

“Why?” you might ask. For starters, it is Sunday, Yeezy’s day of rest. Aside from that, it’s this little thing I like to call depression. As someone who works in the mental health field I don’t use that term lightly. I don’t mean today I am feeling sad; I mean today I feel like every breath I take, every move I make my depression is watching me. Is this what the Police intended for this song? It makes it feel much less creepy this way. I suppose though, depression is a creepy man watching your every move, ensuring that nothing gets in his way from keeping you down. Jokes on you depression, because after what feels like 200 years of this, I know how to handle you.

I pull out my restraining order and remember that you are supposed to stay at least 300 feet away from me at all times. Time to call in some back up. My back up in this scenario is ten fold. First I take every negative little thing he says to me and I twist back at him. “I don’t want to wake up today” he mumbles. In turn, I scream “I am waking up! Here we go!” He tells me that “I shouldn’t write today,” so I say “I AM GOING TO WRITE ABOUT YOU! HA!” Next form of back up is coffee, aka sweet beautiful nectar of life. Some may say this seems counterproductive, but without my coffee returning to my bed is an extreme possibility. After coffee comes the phone calls. I call my friends, I call my family, I call student loans, I call the phone company. I talk and talk and talk. I can’t afford therapy right now, so I utilize these free listeners. (And of course this blog is an outlet where I gather even more listeners!) I just like to be heard. Some days I exercise. This one is particularly difficult to fight him on because it never has been my comfort zone. I try to at least argue though.

Eventually, with all these forces combined he backs off to 300 feet. See my depression, I find, doesn’t fit the DSM definition. It comes and goes in waves, and it’s not cyclical in nature. I can’t predict it like my period. It’s not like “Oh, it’s that time of the month again! Here comes the depression. Break out of the ice cream ladies!” Sometimes it last for a day, sometimes it last for a week. I don’t experience mania when I don’t have it. I don’t all of the sudden have this overwhelming boost of energy. It is just subtly different. One day things feel really hard and one day they don’t. I’ve tried medicine, but it didn’t work for me. I assume this is because there doesn’t seem to be rhyme or reason to it and medication is all about rhyme and reason. I do feel obliged to say that I think that medicine can be a great tool for depression!

Of course my number one backup, the keeper of the keys if you will, is comedy. By this I don’t mean watching comedy, although Friends makes me laugh every yeezy-damn time. What I really love, love, love is making others laugh. Sometimes I think it makes people uncomfortable when I joke about my depression because in people’s head depression is some dark, shamed disease that should never be laughed at! But that’s just it, I am not laughing at it, I am laughing with it. There is a podcast called “The Hilarious World of Depression” (which I highly recommend) that talks about just this. It gets into the depths of not just depression, but a whole host of mental health diagnoses and guess what? People laugh.

The number one way depression likes to win is isolation. So, I blog about it. I listen to the podcasts. I spent a billion dollars on social work school to work with it. I surround myself in the hilarious world of depression. Every day that I avoid working with him, he wins.

For me its about working through it, not around it. I get through difficult times with community and laughter. Some people have different ways of getting through. Some people haven’t figured it out yet. This is why I decided to write about it today (& because I need to step up my poetry game before I go posting that shit online). Because maybe, somewhere out there, someone is having the same experience as me. And maybe this post helps someone. And maybe, just maybe, this post helped me.

Definitely, maybe it did help me.

Now depression, please back the eff up. 

**I would also like to say that if you are feeling isolated and it feels like the depression is winning and you don’t know where to start, reach out: 1-800-273-8255 (National Suicide Prevention Lifeline) **