Finding the Purpose of Anger

It’s a new day friends and if you’re like me you have an emotional hangover from what some call a presidential debate. I personally like to call it the ‘old white man say/yell things show’™ and you are welcome to use that if you’d like. I had so many emotions just from that hour and a half that I could probably write several blog posts on this viewing alone, but I’ll try to make it brief.

The biggest emotion I felt last night was anger. Anger, for those who have not been following this blog for a long time, is one of the most difficult emotions for me to process, accept, and display. I avoid it all costs and it typically results in me crying (which I did last night) and wanting to run away, trying to do whatever I can to make it stop. So, as someone who is constantly trying to improve and be better, I made it a point to stay; stay in my anger and feel the ways in which this anger is helping me. I was angry for a lot of reasons, and I am not going to sit here and try to explain why it hurts to hear people debate human lives or attack someone who overcame a drug addiction. What I will discuss is how such anger is helping me grow.

Last nights anger was felt in the pit of my stomach. My therapist has taught me to visualize where I feel my emotions so that I can really sit with it and work through it. It been a real game changer with the emotions I find more difficult. In my stomach there was a burning sensation and when I closed my eyes I could see yellows, reds, and oranges- there was a fire burning. My first instinct was to put the fire out, which I attempted to do with ice cream (Ben and Jerry’s half baked, obviously). That sort of worked as a short term solution, but as soon as I stopped the fire grew again. I thought to myself ‘how do I make I stop’ and then I realized I was asking the wrong question. I didn’t need it to stop I needed to listen to it and that is what I did.

I sat in my room after getting ready for bed and reflected for a minute on the heat. I unpacked some of the emotional abuse that occurred on the stage as it brought up memories of my own experiences. I validated the feelings of anger as right and fair, instead of a burden that needed to go away. I put my hand on my stomach and thought about the anger others must be feeling in this moment and what pain people who were literal topics of debate might be feeling. I thought about the kids that were and/or are bullied and how it would feel to watch that debate with the harsh words used. I thought of all of these people as my clients that have and will sit with. Then, with each thought and validation the anger dwindled, not to be mistaken with the anger going away.

Feelings don’t disappear until the job they were created to do is done. There is a good reason for that- we need them to create change. For example, if I got sad and never dealt with the sadness and pretended not be sad, that doesn’t mean that sadness is gone, it just means it’s hanging out somewhere else. Typically, this is a place where we tried to lock it up in, but instead it comes out in anxiety, alcohol use, cutting, unexplained anger, etc.. However, if we keep it where it’s supposed to be and we work with it and do what needs to be done, we get a healthy goodbye. Like when I was really depressed and went to therapy and started medication and sat with my sadness for a long time, not letting it go until I was ready. I want a healthy goodbye like that with this anger, so I am keeping the embers burning to help me remember why it is I do what I do.

What I do as a social worker, involves advocating for people and I care about people a lot. I’m a cancer moon, ya know? Advocacy work is political in nature and this fire is a direct result of who and what I care about. These embers will burn until I see people are given justice, fairness, kindness, and the right to live regardless of health, the color of their skin, their differing abilities, their gender, their sexual orientation, and the list could go on. I’m not sure the embers will ever truly go away, but I am going to keep them with me as a reminder that there is work to do, nitty gritty hard work.

I am currently in a space to do the hard work. I have gone to therapy and processed a lot of my own trauma’s and experiences. I feel safe to do this work right now and that could change. If you are not in that place, please know it is okay to lock those feelings up if that is what feels best for you right now. I am not here to tell you how to process your own reactions/feelings. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel safe. Perhaps it’s holding space for it and perhaps it’s watching 6 hours of Real Housewives of New York. I’ve been both people (sometimes in the same day) and that’s okay.

If you’re reading this and angered (or any other emotions) by any of the words I have said here, perhaps reflect on where in your body you’re feeling it and why these emotions are coming up for you. And please, please, please use the contact link to chat with me further about this or any other post.

I love you all, including my anger.

A[wo]men

flames dance

across the lining of my stomach

and i pray for rain

that only comes when

the embers are ready for it

-finding the purpose of anger

The Long Game

c/w violence

Hello all. It’s been quite the last couple of weeks. I started taking anti-depressants, the weather has officially changed to take-two-showers-a-day weather, and the world finally woke up to the injustices of Black people and People of Color. As you may have noticed, I skipped writing a post last week. Not because I didn’t have things I could write (note: I always have things I can write), but because it wasn’t my time or place. I used my social media this past week to #amplifymelanatedvoices. I posted blogs other than my own that were written by Black artists (thefriendineverwanted, sexwithashley, sassy_latte, Maya.esthetic) and only shared content from Black, Indigenous, People of Color (BIPOC). I started with the voices that I already followed and then went on my own journey to find others. I recommend that you read these blogs and pay BIPOC artists if you have the means to! I went to protests and had some great conversations and some not-so-great conversations, both of which needed to be had. I read a lot and watched a lot and listened even more.

Through all of this I learned a lot about myself and even more about BIPOC experiences and even more about my role in relation to the injustices happening. I find myself wanting to note here, so badly, that I have done this work for a long time. That I have had these conversations with many people who deemed me “too sensitive” when I would beg people to look at the language they use. Why do I want to share this so badly? Why do I want people to recognize this? I think it’s because I have this desire to come off as the long time ally; as someone who has always tried to work through her own prejudices and inherent biases. I want to look like a “hero”, when in reality I am part of the system of racism. I have helped to uphold the pain of BIPOC. I have done and said things that were blatantly racist. I often stopped short when it came to being a good ally. When someone called me too sensitive, I didn’t push back, I usually just shut up. So, it doesn’t matter if I have done the work in the past because I didn’t do it hard enough. I sat in the comfort of my own privilege and allowed injustices to continue; it felt safer.

Though, my biggest takeaway from 2020 is my ability to do things regardless of how I am feeling. Is it nice to feel safe? Yes. The thing is, just because I don’t feel safe, doesn’t mean I am not safe. Let me say that again, just because I don’t feel safe, does not mean I. am. not. safe. When a white person crosses the street because there is a Black man walking towards them, they are not unsafe in that situation, but a part of them, a racist part of them believes that they are. When Amy Cooper threatened to call the police on a Black man in Central Park, she believed she was unsafe, and she knew the ways in which she held power and control over that person. She knew that a 911 call would get a police officer that would be on her side, that could potentially murder that Black man. What if these people took a deep breath though? What if instead of reacting they said to themselves why do I feel unsafe? What if they unpacked their internal racism and said ‘damn, that was a racist thought. I should really unpack that.’ (Don’t know how to unpack it? Might I recommend therapy??)

Over the last week I’ve said “I wish people were better at listening” A LOT. This is a sentiment I have always expressed, but is pertinent to the conversations we are having now. I am not just talking about the conversations with others, but those conversations we have with ourselves. When we feel uncomfortable, we try our hardest to be comfortable. So, having a thought like “that was racist of me” is really uncomfortable for someone who believes themselves to be “not racist”. What do they do then? They try to justify their actions, to themselves, because they are uncomfortable with themself. How do I know this? Because I know I have done it before. I have done things and pushed away feelings just to feel safer, to feel more comfortable. At the beginning of 2020 I started to pushback on this notion that things always have to feel right for them to be right.

One of the most thought provoking videos I watched this week was by Sonya Renee Taylor. If you have yet to see it, please take a moment to go watch it. Essentially, the video expresses that white bodies are much less in danger of being killed by police officers. I.e. if I as a white person see a Black person in front of an officer and a gun, the best way to help would be to put myself between that person and the danger. My palms sweat while I watched that video. Guns terrify me and the thought of purposefully putting myself in front of one sent my anxiety blasting. So, after watching it I processed those feelings. I thought about how Black people must feel everyday, not even being in front of police officer, but just knowing that one is near. I thought about the privilege I have to consider if this is something I could or couldn’t do. I decided that no matter how scared I am, no matter how terrified I am, Sonya is right. That evening I went to a protest and I put my body directly in front of an officer. I could feel my mouth get very dry thinking about the fact that this person had a gun, and, historically, had issues with rage.

Now, I am not saying that all the white people reading this need to go put themselves in front of a gun, but I am saying that looking at why you wouldn’t is really important. There is a lot happening in the world right now and I know we all feel it. I have sat with clients of all identities this past week that, for the first time in their life, have felt anxiety. I talked about collective trauma and collective healing, but most importantly I listened. I listened to the way the world is impacting their daily life. I heard the ways in which they have their own personal struggles on top of all the other things people are dealing with. I heard about confusion and pain and joy. I listened.

As a society we think we need the answer right now. Heck, we are living in the age of fast answers. I can call out to my robot, Alexa, and she’ll shoot me an answer to most all questions I ask in .01 seconds. I feel though, that at this moment in time, not having an answer or a rebuttal or a spewing of emotions in .01 seconds is good. People do not heal if they are not heard. We do not heal if we don’t start to listen to the people around us and to ourselves. Taking in information and giving ourselves time to understand that information is what is going to help us move forward. In fact, our bodies are great at giving us insight of when we need to take a break, we just don’t often listen to it. If, while reading this, you found your stomach hurting, or your palms get sweaty, or a desire to argue a point, that is your body telling you something is coming up and it needs to be explored further. For those of you that are white, try to sit in those feelings and understand what is coming up for you. For those of you that are not white, I am open to any and all feedback, but just know that you don’t not have to.

As sang in the amazing broadway show Hamilton “this is not a moment, it’s the movement.” Meaning, this is a long game and we don’t win a long game by jumping to conclusions. We win the long game by listening, by offering protection, by collectively healing all the pain and injustice that has been brought forth at the hands of white supremacy. What does winning look like? I guess I don’t know, but like I said, now is not the time to have quick answers. I am going to keep listening to BIPOC for what a win looks like. And I am going to continue to have conversations with myself and my white friends and family. I would also like to note that I am writing all of this as a cis-gender, straight, white, fat, women and there is a lot of privilege in that description of myself. Most of you reading this are white and have read this blog weekly and you have listened to me and I feel so grateful for that. I implore you to try and take that same skill into the work to be anti-racist. Listen to people that don’t look like me. Engage in their content. Pay them.

So, what is my call to action this week? If you’re white: F*cking listen. Okay? And do things that scare you, like shielding a Black body from violence or telling your family members that the words they use are racist. Because at the end of the day your white skin protects you from a lot and you should be using that to help amplify the voices that aren’t being heard. If you’re not white: do whatever you need to do right now. The world is listening to you, but it is not your job to speak if you don’t want to. However you want to exist right now is how you should exist.

A[wo]men

**I would also like to just give a brief update on how my experience with anti-depressants has been going because a lot of people reached out after my last post with a lot of concern. That post though was not to worry people, although I do appreciate that people cared enough to check-in. That post was to let people know that I am not the same girl I was and that anti-depressants isn’t a scary thing. It’s a medicine that can be really helpful. In fact, I am happy to report that it has been really helpful for me. It’s only been 2 weeks, but I have noticed a significant change in my energy levels. I have been able to get through my day without feeling exhausted, I wake up feeling like I actually got rest. That slight change in energy levels has made a world of difference. The only small draw back I have noticed is I am a bit flightier, i.e. forgetting what I was talking about in the middle of a sentence. To be fair though, I’ve done that a lot before the medicine too, so who knows. I could just be a flighty person? Either way, I will continue to keep you updated on this journey.

**Also, also this blog is all about mental health and I’ve been encouraging people to donate to The Loveland Foundation an organization that works to “bring opportunity and healing to communities of color, and especially to Black women and girls.”**

as a white child

my ears grew weeds that drowned out the noise

of my BIPOC sisters and brothers

and i worked

to pluck each one out from their roots

so i can hear them better.

and now instead of growing weeds,

i grow understanding

and i work

to make sure i don’t plant weeds

in the ears of our future.

-how to win the long game

A different side of anxiety

Hello all my quarantine cuties. I hope you’re all hangin’ in there, whatever hangin’ in there might look like for you. We’ve officially been on lockdown in New York for 25 days and many of us started social distancing long before that. I must say it has been a wild ride thus far.

Okay, actually, my brain is totally in protective mode and I feel numb to most of it right now. It’s like being on a rollercoaster and just as you’re reaching the peak, the person comes on the speaker and says “folks, we’re having some technical difficulties. Our maintenance person is on the scene and checking things out. Please standby.” You know you’re like still safe cuz it’s not like the ride is moving, but it’s freaky, but also what are you gonna do and like all you can do is just like sit there in the ride with your ass squeezed in there, and just like wait… Well, that’s how my quarantine is going anyways. Honestly, I thank my brain constantly for knowing what I can and can’t handle.

Aside from that all that though, life is still moving and I am continually trying to find the bright sides to this whole no human contact outside of work and groceries thing. I’ve been trying to occupy my brain space with other things, so I don’t have too much time to linger on much else. I’ve been writing a lot more, like outside of this blog. Which I actually don’t do that often, but want to do more of. I have this dream of writing short stories, more poems, perhaps even a book some day, but I lacked the motivation in the past. Right now, I don’t necessarily have the motivation, but I do have the time, so it makes it easier to self-motivate.

Writing, no matter what I am writing, is a way to help me process things, because remember I am a slow processor (see “A little less alone and a little bit more seen” for more details). Even when I am writing fiction type stories and I look them back over, I see a piece of myself in the characters and I recognize the areas of my life that I am working through. This week as I was writing about a kid that played too safe, never tried things she didn’t think she would be good at, I was like “oh shit, that me.”

I’ve filled my space and my head with activities I know I am good at because being good at something makes us feel good. That’s normal. However, it is hindering if I only do things I know I can be good at. Actually the quote that comes to mind here comes from one of my faves, Jake the Dog, from Adventure Time when he says “dude, suckin’ at something is the first step at becoming sorta good at something.” Jake the Dog is right, but gosh when I think about suckin’ at something it makes the perfectionist in me v. anxious.

The thing I’ve learned about anxiety though, is that we can still do stuff with anxiety. For instance, dating is so triggering for my anxiety, but guess what? I still go on dates. Sure, I have to remind myself to breathe and I drink water to keep moisture in my mouth because otherwise it’s completely void of it, but I do it. Dating has taught me a lot in my life, but that is the number one thing I have learned from it- no matter how scared you are to do something you still can. And not to brag, but now I’m becoming sorta good at dating (I think).

I’ve taken this lesson to help me through quarantine and I’ve started doing things that make me feel anxious. It all started with my photo shoot. I’ve been trying to grow my brand or whatever you wanna call it, and I thought a good way to do this would be to do a photoshoot with myself. This involved the dreaded makeup portion. To clarify, makeup is not needed for taking photo’s; however, I am scared of makeup because I don’t know how to do it and therefore wanted to try suckin’ at it so maybe I could be sorta good at it.

I was ready to jump in. I gathered my pack of makeup which consists of all one-four year old makeup. (I know it’s gross, please don’t shame me). As I was viewing all my tools I thought, ‘wouldn’t it be funny if I did one of those “makeup tutorial” type videos, but since I’m not good at it the end result will just look like mess?’ LOL. I turned on my camera and I just went really quick through it pretending like I knew what I was doing. Then, something strange happened. I looked in the mirror at the end and I thought “well, that’s weird. I actually really like it.” Can you believe? It wasn’t the Starry Nights of faces by any means, but like I even added a winged liner and they matched. I thought ‘who is this girl?’ And let me tell you, that photoshoot was fierce. I had so much fun just taking pictures and thinking of fun poses and picking out outfits. I was just totally entranced in it for a few hours, which is a big chunk of time in quarantine land.

All of this is to say that in this weird, bizarre land that we are living in now, I am finding some interesting ways to take up brain space, while also feeling brave. My anxiety is completely attached to this central idea I have of myself: I am not good enough. My therapist described this core belief as a sticky piece of paper that clings onto everything that will make it feel true. Every negative comment, every heartbreak, every rejection it will feed into that thought. My hands don’t tremble when someone says I’m not worthy; I shrug and say ‘you’re right.’ Which means my  goal is to change that central thought, which is what I have been working on for the last year. I want my central self to read: I am enough. So with every scary task that won’t feed into that narrative I am altering those words to how I want to feel. Every date I muster up the courage for, every blog post I write without being a trained writer, every photoshoot I do in the middle of my living room, every time I pull out my makeup and start painting my face is a chance for me to say no to that central idea. I will keep doing things that make my hands tremble because I know that means I am doing something important for myself. I know that means that I am saying “I am enough”.

We are living in a time where most of us are probably trembling, not just in our hands but throughout our entire being. Just know that those trembles are your body living, which means you are doing something really important for yourself. And if the trembling is too much to take right now, perhaps a break with some TV might help.

I recommend Seinfeld, but whatever works for you.

A[wo]men

*Featured photo from said photoshoot*

think of your first time falling in love

hands trembling

unable to eat

breathe

sleep.

why should our standards

be any less

for any other passions

we deem fit?

-a different side of anxiety

 

What goes down, must come up.

I wrote an original post that talked about all the pain that I and others are suffering through right now. About how my moods have been up and down and there is so much going on that it is hard to process any of it. Halfway through though I deleted it. I deleted it because we all know what is happening right now. We all feel the pain and the fear attached. We all know the downs right now. But, if my moods are up and down why am I only writing about what it feels like when they are down? I think we have enough of the down right now, so imma go ahead and talk about those ups. Those moments in my day when I feel peace.

When the sun is shining in my little neighborhood, I go to my stoop and I sit there. I let the sun drench my skin and I can feel myself come alive. My days off of work provide me solace in the sun. No schedule. No place to be. Just in that moment having vitamin D absorption provide me with the only medicine I need. This is where I have found the most peace. The Sun has been a bit fickle here, as is expected with spring weather. April showers yada, yada, yada. There is something about the sun though that lets you forget for a moment all that is happening. It’s a reminder that the world keeps turning and each day will come and go again, regardless of pandemics, politics, or anything else.

Those cloudy, rainy days though have been the toughest, so I’ve been channeling my energy every day into something more productive. I run my chaotic energy out like it’s a little kid I need to exhaust before their bedtime. I am officially up to three miles, which I intended to reach by the end of April, so way ahead of schedule. I guess I can thank chaotic energy for that. Turning my music up to full volume, feeling my body push itself in ways it never thought it could, this is one of my favorite feelings. Fat bodies are often told they can’t do things; they can’t wear crop tops, they can’t be healthy, they can’t run. It’s funny because at the moment my fat body is doing all of those things, so I am not sure where they are getting their data from. Running is an act of defiance in my fat body. I’ll show you what a fat body can do. I feel the air fill my lungs, my feet gently tapping the pavement, and my sweat painting my body. How fantastic human bodies can be. I can’t help but find peace here.

At work, it’s been a bit more difficult to find peace. I feel lucky, scared, sad and a whole mix of other emotions while I am there. As a social worker and an empath, I am a holder of not only my own emotions, but of others as well. Finding a way to unwind in that role is important. On my lunch break I leave the building even if it’s only for a minute. It is amazing the impact fresh air can have on a busy mind. I make it a point to find a spot that is empty, which is much easier these days. I stand there for a moment, with my headphones in, but no music playing, just to drown out the sounds of the city. In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth. I repeat these words in my head until it is all that I can hear. My anxiety started to shoot through the roof the day we had to start wearing masks at work. Which is when I realized how valuable fresh air is. Between patients I would stick my head out of the window and just breathe it in. *While I am painting a pretty picture it was actually a pretty hilarious sight, which I sent to a few friends.* This need for fresh air then turned into my need for my lunch time inhalations and exhalations. Hand to hearts center, namaste.

Nah, imma stay in bed is also where I find peace. I don’t actually lay in my bed all day though because I reserve that for sleeping (which I’ve also been doing a lot of). I do, however, spend more time sitting on my couch watching TV. Not just any TV. TV shows that I have seen a hundred times before. I recently read an article about this and they said we gravitate towards these shows in times of crisis because they provided us with a sense of comfort and control. This makes total sense to me. When Dawson’s Creek is on I feel way more in control and, by in control, I mean I am just swooning over Pacey J. Witter the whole time. It’s a great distraction. I love you Dawson’s Creek. Never Change.

Another thing that hasn’t change is finding comfort in food. An age old tradition in my brain to turn to food in moments of crisis. While, yes, stuffing my face to the point where it doesn’t feel good is not the healthiest of coping skills, I have to say I really don’t give a sh*t. Oh, I’m sorry, was that aggressive? But seriously, the copious amount of posts talking about the fear of emerging from this quarantine with a fat body is horrendous. If your worst case scenario is that you get fat, I’d have to say you are a really lucky person. I’d also urge you to unpack your fat phobia. Your fear isn’t of your health, it is purely of your body getting bigger. Digest that for a minute. Food is comforting and that doesn’t need to scare us. It’s okay to eat the things that bring you joy. In fact, anything that is bringing you joy right now is important to hold onto.

Because right now we don’t have a whole lot we can hold onto. Right now things are unpredictable and ever changing. So, I am holding on to these little pieces of life right now that bring me up when I am down. And the beautiful thing is that there are ups. I think it was Isaac Newton who said “what goes up must come down”. Well, it seems you can’t have one without the other and therefore, what goes down, must come up.

Try to find what your ups are. Maybe they are similar to mine or maybe they are vastly different, but either way search for them today. Heck, search for them everyday. You might have to look all over for them, but trust me they are there. And you might just find it helps you through the downs.

A[wo]men

*Featured image from a stoop session*

look up;

close your eyes;

embrace 

-the known;

accept 

-the unknown.

inhale,

4,5.

exhale,

4,5.

repeat.

-how to find your ups.

 

The Battle of the Secrets

Hello beautiful souls. Welcome back and I hope you’ve enjoyed the posts of 2020 thus far. I just wanted to start by saying that I will not be having an interview piece for the month of January, but they will be back and better than ever starting in February. Which reminds me, if you are invested in telling your own story feel free to contact me and let me know.

Okay, now that housekeeping is out of the way, let’s get to the goods. I have been feeling some type of way and I’ve enjoyed exploring those feelings more as of late. Interestingly, I have started a new form of birth control that I swear has evened out my hormones. I know a lot of people say they feel more mood swings with the pill, but I have never felt more even keeled. I am sure there are a lot of factors that go into why I am feeling like this, but I really think that is one of them. Now, when I say more even keeled, it does not mean I am not emotional. I still cry on the regular, don’t you worry y’all, gotta get that release somehow. However, those low-lows that I used to have, get less and less. I haven’t had a real low-low in about a month, which is impressive, if I do say so myself. Plus, that low was triggered by alcohol which I have been avoiding as well. So, I am sure that has helped a lot. While I do feel more stable there is an area of my life that is bringing up a lot of feels and a lot of what I’ve been exploring this past month.

Ey-yo, low self-esteem check! (Tiktoc reference, for you oldies. JK I’m old, but I like to stay up-to-date on what the cool kids are doing). But seriously, I’ve been feeling not very powerful and it has been really interrupting my groove. As someone with a history of eating disorders, the new year is the hardest time. Everyone around me is talking about their diet; the weight they have gained over the holidays; the desire to be thinner, thicker, taller, shorter, beefier. Every “I just need to loose 5 lbs, 10lbs, 100lbs” scatters about me and I don’t know how to respond. I oscillate between wanting to be happy with who I am and wanting to be thin. Should I want to loose weight? Should I not? How do I feel about myself? So many thoughts constantly echoing in my brain. “The Biggest Loser” flashes across my screen and  brings me back to the image of fat people puking while a thin person berates them. I play Demi Lovato’s new song Anyone on repeat while I think about all the things she has overcome and how glorious she looked on that stage at the Grammy’s.

Last night, with Demi in mind, I stared into the mirror and I said ‘you are worthy of everything you want’ and I began to cry because I didn’t know if I believed it or not. Everyday I wonder if I am loving myself correctly. In this instance, is self-love admitting that I want to change? Is it wanting to feel okay in my current skin? Is it both? I think it is both… No, I know it is both. Why can’t I have a desire to change while also loving who I am? Both can exist at the same time and both can be a beautiful admittance. My worth does not depend on whether I want to change or not. My worth is a value that comes from  inside of myself, even on the days I get self-love wrong, I am worthy.

This morning I stared into the mirror and I said ‘you are worthy of everything you want’ and I began to cry because I knew it was true whether I believed it or not. That’s thing about being gentle with yourself. It’s okay to be exactly who you are at all times, even when it feels like you might be a walking paradox. It is hard to feel worthy, unless you start to accept pieces of yourself that might feel scary to accept.

In light of this revelation, there is a secret I have been keeping to myself that I feel I need to let out. I joined Weight Watchers again and typing that is really scary for me. There it is, out in the open. Even just typing it out loud feels liberating. I think this is scary for me to admit because it feels like I am failing in some way, like wanting to change means I don’t just fully embrace who I am now and that means I am doing self-love a disservice and everything I’ve said before is a lie. The thing is though, that I do love myself as I am today and I want to be able to eat more reasonable portions and I wouldn’t mind losing weight. I do not want to feel shame or guilt in that. Weight Watchers, to me, is a place where I find community, where I can talk about my struggles with eating and feel no judgement. It feels so good to not be holding that in any longer.

Keeping secrets is a heavy weight to carry around. As a social worker, I think the number one phrase I’ve heard in my position is “I’ve never told anyone that before“. After they say it, their change in body language can only be described as amazing. There is always a deep breath and a feeling of relief. The power that I witness firsthand in letting out a secret is one of my favorite parts of the work I do. I feel that feeling each week as I sit at my computer. Each post accompanies a deep breath and feeling of relief.

There are pieces of me that are hard for me to admit, but with each blog post, with each conversation with a friend, with each confession, I feel more and more worthy of what I want. It all starts with ripping the bandaid. Telling your secrets to the air, your pet, a piece of paper, a computer screen, a trusted friend, a stranger, your therapist – is powerful. Scream it out or whisper it quietly. Secrets that we keep inside are the real parts of ourselves that we need to battle. Today, take out your sword and be brave- tell a secret you’ve been holding on to. If you don’t have anyone/thing to tell, you can tell me. Just go to my contact page and if you want to remain anonymous just make up a name and email. I just want you to know that you have a place here that is safe. I feel safe in telling you my secrets and I hope you feel the same in return.

Today I am going to be brave alongside you and I am going to tell three more secrets before the day is done. You will be able to find them on my Instagram page.

A[wo]men

i feel the aching-

today in my chest,

yesterday in my bones,

tomorrow in my stomach.

it will always linger,

always want out.

i close my eyes,

open my mouth,

let the words

escape my lips

i’m free.

-letting go of secrets

 

 

 

 

 

Gut Reactions

Hi friends, it has been a wild ride these last 7 days and I can’t wait to tell you about it. Well, if I am being honest I can’t wait to just let it all out and maybe it will make me feel better and more at ease. Before I dive into the events of the week though, I would like to say that I got a lot of feedback about my winter appreciation post and there are definitely great things about winter that I forgot to include. Most importantly, the solitude found during a winter hike because everyone else is at home afraid of the cold. That is a solid addition to that list.

C/W sexual assault and violence

Now that I’ve updated that, let’s just dive right in shall we. On Friday morning I was in a fantastic mood. I had a delicious breakfast and a great nights rest and it was Friday. Even though I work on Saturdays, Fridays are inherently great because everyone has good energy about the weekend. It rubs off on ya. Here I am boppin’ along, when I get to the train station and realize the D train is crowded AF. I was already cutting it a bit close with getting to work, so I took a deep breath and said ‘Sarah, ya just gotta get on this one. You don’t have time to wait for the next one.’ Some context to this fear of crowded trains might be needed.

My first year in New York I had an internship that required me to take two trains and a bus. It was a nightmare, especially for a new time New Yorker. One day I entered this extremely crowded train. About 2 minutes into the ride, I could feel a man groping my ass. The train was so crowded, I could barely move. I froze. I just remember making eye contact with the woman across from me who could see what was happening and we both had a tear in our eye. In our fight, flight, or freeze response we both seemed to freeze. I couldn’t breathe and immediately got off at the next spot trying to catch my breath. It felt like I was being suffocated. In that moment, I made a vow to never get on a crowded train again if it didn’t feel safe to do so.

Fast forward to Friday, where I felt uncomfortable entering that train, but did it anyway. I even thought to myself ‘Sarah, we don’t like crowded trains.. can’t we just wait for the next one’ but then I was like ‘no, we’ll be late to work then’. There I am, denying my gut response. DAMN YOU CAPITALISM. Then, I get on this train and I was doing everything I could to focus on being calm. This train was so packed I couldn’t even manage to move my arms to take my backpack off, so I left it on not thinking anything of it. I had meditation playing in my head phones, I was rubbing my fingers together, and I was doing some heavy deep breathing just to keep my cool. Then it happened. I felt movement on my back and my brain immediately had me freeze. ‘It’s happening again’ I thought ‘this man behind me is trying to touch me.’ I focused even more on my breathing as the train conductor announced “folks, we are stopped due to some train traffic ahead of us. Should be moving shortly.”

When I get in situations where I start to feel panicked I repeat to myself ‘you are safe. you are safe. you are safe.’ I also knew I had to do something to get this man to stop what he was doing. I made eye contact with him and began to shift my body so he wouldn’t have access to my backside. The movement from behind ceased after the eye contact and the train began to move again. As we pulled up to the next stop this man said ‘oh, is this grand street?’ in a very booming voice. All I could think in my head was please leave, please leave. He bolted off the train and I felt like I could breathe again.

The following stop was my own. I took another deep breathe said ‘you are safe’ and started walking to work. As I was nearer too my job, I went to pull out my ID to get into work. Moving my backpack forward I noticed my zippers were open and I realized what had actually happened. That person behind me was not trying to touch me, he was stealing from me. I dug into my backpack to find my wallet was missing. I was upset, but also very aware that the things in that wallet are replaceable. Except for the business card I kept in there from my first job as a real life social worker, but what are ya gonna do? I cancelled my cards. I took a deep breath, I tried to move on with the day. I even saw a patient. It was helpful to talk to someone else. After my first patient I went to grab my chap stick from my front pocket… That’s when I realized, he also stole my keys.

I couldn’t breathe. Again, I didn’t care about the keys themselves, those are replaceable as well. However, all I could think was that this man now has my address and my keys. He can get into my building. He can steal more of my things. He can hurt me. I made eye contact with this person and knew exactly what he looked like. My imagination is incredible, both a blessing and a curse. I went into full blown panic attack mode as images of this person entering my home and hurting me kept sweeping across my brain. It was like a scary movie that I couldn’t turn off. Anxiety looks different for many people. For me, it is often in the form of images that play in my head over and over and over. I try to use mindfulness and deep breathing to “let the images pass like a cloud” but sometimes that bullsh*t doesn’t work; sometimes all I can do is let the anxiety take over. And I think it’s okay to let it take over. It was telling me that something wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t okay.

I left work and started to break down the things I had to do. Call landlord, cry, get locks changed, cry, go to police station, cry. FYI, my landlord, who was extremely unhelpful, shared that she would not be changing the front door lock because “it’s too many keys to replace”. Welcome to New York, where money is more important that the safety of humans.  So, this man does not have access to my apartment but can still get into my building. Also, the cops were just okay. I am scared of police stations and that made me cry more. They also couldn’t decide who has jurisdiction for like a full hour because I was on a moving train. COOL. I am not exhausted or anything. Thanks for your speedy assistance.

So what is the point of all of this? Well, many people have told me it’s a lesson. A lesson to not keep all your credit cards in one place and to not keep your backpack on your back and you know, all the blaming done to people that have a crime done to them. I, of course, think I learned all of these things, but that wasn’t the real lesson for me. The real lesson for me, and that I want to share with all of you, is about listening to the gut.

9 times out of 10 when my gut is telling me something, I tend to ignore it. Perhaps it’s from years of being told I was “crazy” “overreacting” and “stupid” when my gut would start to tell me something. Now, I often chalk it up to anxiety or being dramatic or the moon. I would like to call bullsh*t on it right now. I have suffered from anxiety and depression for about as long as I can remember. Both are significantly better, but are also used as an excuse to not listen to how we’re feeling. It’s a fine line understanding when it’s your anxiety and when it’s a man actually stealing from you and invading your personal space. Where do we draw the line and is it even a line? Does it oscillate between the two, combining reality and fears? How do I know when to listen to myself and how do I know when to not?

I think that is it really. We should always be listening to ourselves. There shouldn’t be a time that I think my thoughts are irrelevant or not important; whether it is my anxiety or not, my brains only goal is to protect myself. My anxiety is a part of me and all my parts of me care if I survive. Why shouldn’t I listen to that?

I want to clarify- I think we should do things that scare us. I want to jump out of a plane one day and I know my anxiety is going to be like ‘girllll, you cray,’ but there is a difference between feeling comfortable with the fear versus feeling frozen with fear. If I am to the point where I feel like I can’t breathe, I need to be able to listen to that. I need to be able to say something is not right here and I don’t have to brush it off or take a deep breathe to change the way my brain is working. I want to be able to say that I don’t think I should get on this train and then no get on the train.

Society today seems to be so insistent on quick changes, on deep breathes, and slowing down. Sometimes, it doesn’t help to slow down; sometimes we need to be alert and respond. This is all to say, that you, my lovely reader, are the expert of your own being. You should listen to your body and trust that no matter how you are feeling, there is a message behind the feeling, a message saying ‘I want to keep you safe’.

Stay safe my friends and maybe don’t go on crowded trains. I am re-entering that vow with myself.

A[wo]men

Go f*** yourself.

-A poem for my robber

I Want to Live

CW: Suicidal Ideations

Happy October my fellow readers. I can’t believe we are already into spooky season. Especially because it is currently 90 degrees in New York and I can’t even enjoy a PSL (pumpkin spice latte, for you non-basics) because I don’t drink coffee anymore. What is life?

It really is strange this idea of time. I find it moving so fast that I don’t know whether I should start running with it or if I should grab it’s hand and tug real hard to try and slow it down. I was recently thinking about how different I was just 4 years ago. At this point in the year, I would have had a full halloween costume planned out and several parties lined up to go to. This year, I’m like, ugh could take a party or leave it. It sort of just sounds like a lot of work, tbh. I’d rather make a nice meal and have a glass of wine and watch a movie. Is this growing up?

I have been thinking of this idea a lot lately. Of growing up, and change, and the different ups and downs of life. This conversation I had the other day made me think about all the things I felt so sure of in my life and how those desires slowly faded or morphed into something new. I was talking to someone who was asking me about my tattoos. He said that he didn’t have any because he could never commit to one thing. He talked about his changing tastes and his joy that he didn’t get things like a doodle from his friends notebook permanently placed on his body.

I get what he is saying. When I was a teenager I wanted to get “all you need is love” written on the tops of my feet with a lighting bolt and heart underneath. Feeling grateful I didn’t have the money for that one. I also remember saying that I would never give birth to a child. I was adamant about it. Today, I am excited about the prospect of being a mom some day. Shh, don’t tell my teen self I said that.

I think humans are fascinating in the way we morph and change and grow into our environments. My blog 10 years ago would have been a completely different Sarah writing about her experiences. She wanted the Beatles words etched into her skin. She wanted punk rock hair and a nose piercing. She wanted to be a rebel without a cause (even though rebelling was the scariest thing in the world to her). She wanted to be someone else and at the same time she wanted to find out who she was. I would say this is accurate for most teens.

The other thing she wanted 10 years ago was to not be alive. I would write in my journals iwiwd (I wish I was dead), over and over again. I was so convinced that my fat body would never find love and therefore my reason for existing was null and void. I would spend years, literally, dreaming of being someone else. Someone else that seemed lovable- The cool girls from my high school, my friends, my family, the famous people I saw on TV. My cryptic messages in my notebooks though weren’t too hard to decode. My friends would find out I was feeling this way and they would help me get through it. They would sit with me and tell me all the reasons I was lovable.

My therapist told me that we all have stories we tell ourselves and sometimes these stories create a toxic pattern. This became a toxic pattern for me. The more sad I was, the more people told me I was lovable. This story was like wildfire inside of me, it burned bright and strong for a long time. I was so convinced I had to be the sad girl to be shown affection and attention. I didn’t even realized it was a story I was telling myself. I was, without a doubt, sad at the time and had a lot I needed to work through, but it is in this reflection that I have seen how this story plays out.

In my last relationship, I felt a lot of pain and I also felt a lot of love. That love though, was most felt when I was hurting. I hurt so much that I went back into that space. I wanted to be someone else, iwiwd. I would text him these things and he would come and he would show me affection and attention. The story line still worked and the embers that I thought were being put out through our relationship, rose up in a fit of rage when we broke up. I, again, was unloveable, unless I was sad. I like to emphasize that in the moment, this was not the narrative that I knew was happening. At the time I just thought this is depression and this is what happens with depression and even though he is the one that hurt me, he is the one that is caring for me. I want to emphasize this because I think people are often criticized for being manipulative or deceitful, especially when it comes to emotions. I would argue that this is false. I believe that all feelings are valid and have a reason for coming. I think it is only fair to reflect on those emotions when you are out of the situation so that you can get a clear idea of what was really happening. In a moment though, there is not always time to say ‘why do I feel this way? What is making me act this way? Is it from trauma? Is it true pain? Is it both?’ I think the healthiest way to be is to say I am feeling this way and to feel is valid and to reflect at some point will provide me with clarity when I need it.

I finally have some clarity. I sat down and journaled for a very long time the other day. I wrote about my past relationships, past abuses, past storylines, past feelings. I wrote until my hand cramped. It was one of those days where you have an ‘ah-ha’ moment of clarity. I think I actually said ‘damn, that’s it’ out-loud in the coffee shop I was sitting in. At first I felt shame. I thought about how cruel it is not only to the people around me, but to myself. To think I can only be loved if I am sad is a horrible story line to follow and I played the part well. As I have said in previous blog posts though, I get to keep writing and re-writing. This story line is the thing that is null and void now. I still get sad, but it is no longer an emotion that I use to prove I’m worthy of love. I get sad and I sit in it and sometimes I reach out and tell my friends and they sit in it with me and then slowly I move on from the sadness. There is no ‘if, then’ with my emotions.

We as humans are all worthy of love and connection and not just because of one piece of us. The people in your life that deserve your time and attention show you love when you are happy, sad, frustrated, disgusted, and everything in between. Those people that make me feel appreciated for all that I am, well they are the ones that I am holding onto as tight as I possibly can.

It is my hope that as I relearn my story and understand myself better that I don’t feel the need to scribble iwiwd anywhere else in my life. I can’t guarantee that I won’t ever feel that way again, but it is the hope that keeps me going. For the first time in my life it actually feels possible to live a life without suicidal ideation. I don’t know how to even express how that feels, but I will try.

It feels

Like birds flying free;

Like waking up with the sun instead of an alarm;

Like the deepest hug you’ve ever had;

Like floating in water;

Like a deep breathe of fresh, crisp air; 

Like your first bite of food after your stomach has been on empty;

Like crawling into warm blankets from the dryer on a winter day;

Like the subway showing up right when you arrive on the platform;

Like the first day of school; 

Like hope;

Like dreaming;

Like hearing ‘I love you’ for the first time.

Because that’s really what it is. It’s telling yourself that you love you for the first time and showing up, saying “I want to live.” 

-i want to live

If you or someone you know is struggling with these feelings please feel free to contact me for some support. I know what it feels like to think there is no way through the pain. And please try and tell the people you care about that you love them and care about them at random times, at times they aren’t expecting, maybe even right now. It can be so powerful to tell people how you really feel. I am also linking to the website Suicide Prevention Lifeline if you would like further support.

And to my readers- I love you, in all that you are, I love you.

A[wo]men

Heavy Lifting

In the name of honesty and bravery, I am beginning today’s post with some realness. I don’t want to write this. I didn’t even want to open my eyes this morning or even fall asleep last night. I ate this morning out of necessity, not out of hunger. I brushed my teeth with the will of 100 men in battle. I’m still, of course, going to write this; just as I powered through the other tasks of my morning, because I know that fresh air is coming.

It has been a tough week for me. Nothing in particular to note, but just a feeling of longing. I’ve spent a lot of time alone this week, mostly watching TV and lounging. For some, this can be a refreshing activity, but for me it often creates feelings of isolation. The more I feel disconnected the more I disconnect. I think I am currently in the dun dun dun ‘suck zone’. For those of you wondering what exactly the ‘suck zone’ is let me quote the great 1996 film Twister: “‘The Suck Zone’…when the twister… sucks you up. That’s not the technical term for it, obviously.” Obviously… but it is just the term I needed, Dusty. See I’ve been sucked up into the twister of loneliness.

There are a few things that I have noticed that may be playing into these feelings:

Number 1. I still don’t have a good schedule down. I keep having random appointments, odd trips, weird bed times, and strange work hours which I let take over any semblance of a routine.

Number 2. As I try to increase the reach of my blog, I have become a little too intense about social media. I went from taking a two week hiatus, to checking my stats every 20 minutes. It is too much.

Number 3. I still think about my breakup much more than I care to admit. This is a hard one to be honest about because I get embarrassed by this fact. I know, I know. I keep hearing it over and over… “It’s a process. Don’t feel bad and don’t try to rush it. This will pass.” And I get that. I know they are right and breakups are hard, but, like, I do feel bad and I want to rush it and could it just pass already?

Number 4. It’s Amazon Prime day and I don’t have enough money to buy unnecessary things for the sake of sales. Sometimes, I just want to be frivolous. I want to throw hundo’s around like I’m in a cool music video.

Number 5. I want coffee. Hi, I’m Sarah, and I’m an addict. I’ve been coffee free for one month and it’s been harder to resist the sweet bean of life, now, more than ever.

Number 6. I am still not Lizzo and that’s all I really want in this life.

So, as you can see, I’m not really setting myself up for great success. The good news is that I recognize this and I am being really gentle with myself. I am ensuring that I still do things that keeps the war at bay.

How, might you ask? Let me count the ways:

Number 1. I am requiring myself to spend time outside for at least one hour per day.

Number 2. I am still going to my therapist! This is the longest standing therapeutic relationship I have ever had. (Aside from my dog Brandy, who was my therapist growing up. RIP. [And yes, she was named after singer/song writer/actress Brandy. I really loved the show Moesha and her amazing rendition of Cinderella.]) In fact, I will be seeing her (my therapist, not Brandy) in about 2 hours. I always feel lighter after therapy.

Number 3. I am not really scrolling on social media. At this point I am just checking my own page, so the comparing is still down to a minimum. Baby steps = baby wins.

Number 4. I am planning a solo camping trip. Which means I have to buy a sleeping bag and, oh would you look at that, there is a sleeping bag on sale on prime day. How convenient. May not be throwin’ hundo’s, but I am getting turned up with nature. [That was the most embarrassing thing I have ever typed out loud. Sorry, not sorry.] Also, may not be a cool music video, but it is like a Henry David Thoreau story. So that’s pretty cool.

Number 5. I’m rewatching Riverdale to be reminded of the love I truly want… #bughead #Bettyandjughead4ever #iSHIPit

Number 6. I continue to sing Lizzo songs daily and even if I can’t be her, I am her in my head for at least 20 minutes a day.

Number 7. Exactly what I am doing right now; I am writing.

All in all, I would say my coping skills are pretty successful. I even had an extra coping skill compared to the aforementioned list of hold-ups. Sure, tasks feel heavy right now, but they don’t feel so heavy that I can’t lift them. I’m just becoming a pretty toned heavy weight lifter. “The beach is that way.”

While I am starting to grow emotional muscles, there have definitely been points in my life where I felt too weak to lift anything. In the past my coping skills list consisted of 1. binge eating and 2. self-hatred. Look at that growth. I guess this is how strength builds though. One day you’re lifting a 5 pounder and the next you are lifting in the hundo’s. +I think hundo’s is my new favorite word, BTW. Again, like a break-up, it takes time. You don’t just jump into it because then you will break your back, or is it your mothers back? Oh, wait, that’s only if you step on a crack. Either way, pain is involved.

But the real problem is we don’t talk about it; we don’t talk about any of it. We expect the quick turnaround because we don’t see all the hard work that we put in day in and day out. We see the end results, not the grueling work. The first time I opened up about any of my feelings outside of joy was in a chat room, on the Post Secret Website. If you have not heard about Post Secret, it is a brilliant site and I encourage you to follow the link. Essentially, complete strangers from around the world send secrets to another stranger who then posts them weekly to his blog. The reason I felt safe to open up there is because of the honesty and bravery shown by everyone else. I learned in those moments that feeling this way was meant to be secret. We tend to not open up about feelings outside of happiness, unless it is to complete strangers.

While I loved and continue to be thankful for the opportunity that chat room gave me, I also think it’s important we give space to those we love to hear how we are feeling. I’ve been trying to correct my way of thinking because for a large part of my life only telling strangers held me back from feeling okay. I had to be a different person depending on where I was sitting. Quiet Sarah at home, happy Sarah at cheer, sad Sarah on the computer, sassysarah600 on aim… When all I really wanted to be was Sarah Lorraine Robinson. *Gasp* THAT’S THE URL NAME.

This blog allows me to open up to strangers, but also to those closest to me, with my name right there in the website address. I am no longer hiding my identity, I am shouting it from the tops of webpages. Earlier, when I said I am still going to write and do my normal activities because I know there is fresh air on the other side, this is what I meant. I feel like I held my thoughts in for so long it was like holding my breathe under water. When I write, when I tell people the truth, just out in the open like this, it’s like I am able to exhale. In fact, breath work, i.e., the inhale and exhale, are some of the greatest coping skills we have.

I suppose I have a number 8 to add to the list: Breathing.

A[wo]men

PS- My hope is to continue the #honestyrevolution #braveryrevolution on social media. Please join me in showing your own journeys, not just the results, and all the emotions that go along with that. For more information on this social media campaign read my previous post- The Social Media Revolution

xxoo

The Social Media Revolution

Hi Friends, you may have noticed some upgrades to the site (and if you’re new here welcome and I hope you enjoy the lewk). I have decided to take my blog to the next level- the professional level. *Look at me adulting* This upgrade has been something I have been stewing on for quite some time, but the reason I chose today is because a spark was lit in me. I believe the main ignitor was therapy- ergh let’s be real, I KNOW the ignitor was therapy. All of this work I have been doing on myself- my patterns, the parts of me holding me back, baby Sarah- I finally realized I had the power to change. I know, that’s like the therapy moments in the movies, ya know?

I used to say that I hated those people that had a ‘thing’. You know the type, where they have something that they are so passionate about that they almost seem to emanate it. I was always jealous of the sports kids, art kids, and well pretty much anyone with a hobby. My hobbies seemed to include hating myself and helping others. The latter I was able to make a career of and the former is what deterred me from trying anything else. When I left therapy yesterday, I started to think about what could be my passion? What is something that brings me true joy and clarity? I’d like to say that writing jumped up at me like there was no real thinking to it, but I honestly made a list for quite some time before hitting on the blog. As I sat there writing all of the things I loved -bread, cheese, pigs, photography, music, Stranger Things– I had this moment of looking at my pen and being like ‘duhhh’. Of course, that passion has been here for awhile, but that inner voice told me I wasn’t good enough to take it further. The inner voice told me I couldn’t have writing be my passion because I am not a trained writer; therefore, no one would want to read what I have to write.

Yesterday in therapy I talked to that inner voice. See, that inner voice, like baby Sarah (see post-Nobody Puts Baby [Sarah] in the Corner), is also my protector. When I spoke to the voice I told them that I appreciated all the pain they have protected me from. I hugged them and thanked them for continuing to motivate me to be better. The image in my head was that of a cartoon. I was the little girl in Inside Out and my inner voice was a cute little black fluff ball. Then, my therapist encouraged me to invite a new feeling in with that inner voice and all of the sudden me and the little black fluff ball were hugging as we were surrounded by hundreds of little yellow fluff balls. We felt warm as we were surrounded by a new energy. When the hugging ended I told the voice I didn’t need it and that they could hang around if they would like, but they couldn’t speak to me in the same way anymore.

I know what you might be thinking, especially if you have never done inner work, ‘this sounds like some hippy-dippy-shit!’ I know this because I have been that person. The person that scoffs at the idea of letting your imagination help you to heal. It seems made up, and while part of it is, when I let down those walls and open up to the idea that it could work, my imagination started to go wild with it. The point of me telling you all of this though is to really bring to the forefront the ideas that we create about ourselves; the stories we decide to showcase. Going to therapy, consistently was a challenge, even as a therapist. I resisted feeling vulnerable because it is scary. Telling you that I talked to an inner-voice in my head, and also gave it an image and a story line, also feels vulnerable and  scary to type out loud. It is stories like this that I think we need to hear.

Yesterday, a friend of mine was doing a hard creep on my instagram and commented on one of the photos “little did we know these nights cloaked in depression [would form] an impenetrable bond.” When I reexamined the photo we were so bright and happy it was hard to believe that it was taken during the height of my depression. These were the days where my suicidal ideations were stronger than ever, yet when you look at that photo it is near impossible to tell that fact. 34 likes on that picture and most of them probably thought I was in a really good place, they were none the wiser. This is why I am telling my stories… my real stories. Because the pictures we paint on the internet are often glossed over with smiles and joy. We don’t often see posts of the hard times, heartbreak, pain, anger, but we all know we are experiencing it.

This is why I write and I share. My stories may not be very different from anybody else’s, but to me that is the point. I want people to know that they are not alone. And just as powerfully as a funny image on Instagram can bring me joy, so can a sad post on Instagram that brings me connection. I want to be a part of a revolution on the internet where honesty and bravery become the norm; where all emotions are brought to the table and we begin to normalize and accept all emotions. I feel that when we start to see this shift we will see a decrease in suicide rates, self-harming disorders, body-image issues, etc. With the internet being run by happy posts and joy it sends a message that fear, anger, sadness, disgust and any other feeling you can conjure is bad. This, as we know, is incorrect messaging. All feelings have a purpose and are valid.

So I am giving you all a call to action- share a new emotion on the internet. Join me in the social media revolution by following my Instagram and liking my Facebook page and use the hashtags #honestyrevolution #braveryrevolution to post stories of some of your own truths.

xxoo

A[wo]men

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 *