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’m Full!

Oh my what a week it has been. My parents were visiting for a few days and just left today and I am exhausted. I really am an ambivert. I like some time with others, but gosh I really need that alone time too. Too much of one makes me go all wonky. It’s a balance really.

I think one of my favorite things about having visitors in the city is having them see what life is really like. I pretty much forbid tourist attractions. If you want to see the statue of liberty, mom and dad, go see it on your own. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Harsh words, I know, but like you’ve seen it once that’s good enough. They did, btw. They went to the statue of liberty while I was at work, bless their hearts.

“You really walk this much? Does the noise ever bother you? How do people drive in this city? (*hint, we don’t.) Do you ever miss Alaska and the quietness? (*Hint, I do.) Are people nice? Do you go to Manhattan? Is that weed I smell? Is that lady always on your stoop?” -All excellent questions from out-of-towners I’ve had.

The thing is, just like I am an ambivert, I am also a middle-of-the-road dweller. I need some of both when it comes to my living place. Alaska, was just a bit too quiet for me. Thoughts of bears eating my face off would take over and well, in the quiet it’s hard to turn those thoughts off. Living in Manahattan was like being sucker punched every morning when you walked out the door. Sometimes I would dream of a volume button I could put on the 1st ave to quiet all the busy workers down. Brooklyn, to me, is just right. *Dying my hair blonde and becoming Goldilocks now- except that whole fear of bears may deter this drastic change* My street is quiet and my apartment is even quieter- and cozy, if I do say so myself. It’s got beautiful town homes that line the street, and, as my mom kept insisting to joke about the entire trip, “a tree really does grow in Brooklyn.” (Good one, mom.) People, and by people I mean the dudes I talk to while online dating, ask me if I plan to stay in New York forever. I don’t plan on anything forever [learned that one a long time ago, okur], but I will be here indefinitely.

All this talk of Brooklyn makes me wonder where I will be in 5/10 years. In my last blog post I talked about all the things I was so sure of and how those things changed. This time two years ago, I was getting ready to move to Alaska. I thought Alaska just might be my forever home. I wonder what state I will be in, both physically and mentally, in another two years. I try not to wonder too much because then my imagination takes over and before I know it, I am living on a yacht with my sugar daddy in the Caribbean, where he has his off shore accounts. See, told ya this brain of mine can really get creative.

While it is super fun to have these imaginative moments, I also know it is wasted energy because I have no freakin’ clue where my life is going or how it will end up. Which interestingly enough is how I also write my blog posts, who knows how this baby is going to end! It is interesting though because in the past it was hard for me to ever think of the future. When I would think of the future I was most certainly alone and most certainly depressed. There was no fun creativity. I was Debbie Downer all the way *wah wah*. I think I am still just processing this whole ‘I can live a life without suicidal ideation’ thing. It has opened up my brain space in so many ways, I almost don’t know what to do with it all.

Actually, my brain space has opened up in a lot of different ways recently. Most notable, is that I stopped talking about weightloss, dreaming about weightloss, and really any sort of diet talk at all. When I hear things like “Ugh, I shouldn’t have eaten that” or “I’ll definitely need to earn my next meal” I just shut off my brain and zone out. And the coolest thing has happened since I have made this transition. For the first time in my life, *drum roll please* I felt full. Louder for those in the back- I FELT FULL. Let me tell you, two of the weirdest feelings in the world have occurred to me in the last month. I stopped hoping to die and I stopped feeling the need to binge eat. Last week I wrote a poem about what it feels like to not have suicidal ideations. I wish I could also write a poem about feeling full but it is honestly indescribable. Trust me, I have tried to explain this to people that don’t have an eating disorder and it just doesn’t work. Unless you know the feeling, I don’t know any other way to tell you.

The first time I felt it, I was confused AF. I remember just like closing my eyes and thinking aliens have invaded my body. What was happening in my body.. This weird sensation. I was fully present while I was eating and I was listening to my body. It told me it was full and I just listened. Ever since that day, when I feel full I can’t help but smile. Like hey, look at me listening to my body signals and being aware and shit. This is not to say that I don’t ever overeat anymore. Sometimes the chocolate is just too good to put down, but when that happens I no longer feel guilt or shame.

In fact, I am over feeling guilt or shame for anything I choose to do to my body. I am over people convincing me that I should feel guilt or shame. Part of the reason I developed an eating disorder was due to guilt and shame about what I looked like. Want to know why I wanted to die? Guilt and shame about who I am as a person. And, heck, I am living in a privileged body. I’ve actually moved away from writing about the body positive movement for this reason. I do not want to diminish any body that has felt discrimination, that has experienced this message of guilt and shame particularly due to intersectionality, and I do not wish to center my voice in this movement. I mostly just want to say that it is a wild ride to decide to not care how people see you. I would actually like to give credit to those that are centered in this movement because they are part of my healing journey, that led to me being able to be a diet culture drop out. Some notable people you should be following on IG is @lizzobeeating, @bopolena, @sassy_latte, @libbyshappyproject, @theeverymanproject,  and @recoverybrainfood. I could keep going but I will limit myself. Part of my journey to this space of fullness was unfollowing all the accounts that made me feel bad about who I was and follow accounts that are about standing in their truth and feeling good about it. How could I feel full when the people I was following before made me feel so empty? It was one of the best small changes I made for myself. And of course shout out to my therapist, who is the real MVP. In these changes and commitments to myself and my wellbeing, I was able to drop the guilt and shame and realize it was the only weight I actually needed to lose.

Before I moved to Brooklyn, I was at a low point in my life. Now, here in my safe space, I am growing into something I never thought would be possible. I’ve told many clients that I’ve worked with before that just because you move somewhere new, does not mean that it will change the things you are struggling with. And while this is true, it is important to note that it can be positive to get a new perspective; to try new places until you find the place that feels ‘just right’. This can mean changing places physically, mentally, or even virtually. Finding a place that lets me feel full and alive and in love with myself is the place I want to be.

I want to really encourage you to stop following the accounts that make you feel bad. Even just try it for a day, you can always go back to them- they aren’t going anywhere. It changed a lot for me and it just might have the same impact for you.

A[wo]men

click. scroll. like. like. scroll.

it’s not fair, they’re better-

IG tragedy.

-How to feel empty

So, that’s how this one decided to end. Fascinating.

The Stranger Friend

Have you ever been in a really crowded place and all you could think was ‘so long as no one talks to me, I’ll be okay.’ I do this often. In New York, basically everywhere is crowded and escaping people is only done in the solace of your bedroom, and some aren’t even that lucky. I often use the tactics of loud headphones, avoiding eye contact, and looking as though I am feeling any emotion but happy. I would say this works fifty percent of the time. Some people really don’t care. Typically, I am polite and make conversation, but the whole time in my head I am screaming “LEAVE ME THE EFF ALONE, damn…” 

Currently, I am writing this from one of the most crowded places one can find in any city: The DMV. *DUN DUN DUN* If you have seen the movie depiction of a DMV- then you know exactly what surrounds me. The wait time is an estimated 4 hours, everyone is grumpy, and it smells of something I can’t quite place. I’m pretty sure this kid next to me did something in his diaper, but who I am to say for sure. It’s an anxious ball of energy just wanting to be, literally, anywhere else. 

I spent two hours here yesterday with no luck of getting what I came for. I had to get to therapy by 4pm, so I had to leave before my number was called. I left angry and on the verge of yelling at a stranger- not in typical Sarah fashion. I was mostly angry because I knew I would have to do it all over again. I would have to wait in the long lines and sit with the smell and “waste” two-three more hours of my life. I was definitely in the ‘nobody talk to me or I’ll scream’ mood. 

I thought about those two hours on my thirty minute train ride to therapy. I thought about how that sucked and how none of it was urgent and I will try again tomorrow. I calmed my nerves by breathing and just felt glad that the moment was over and I was on my way to talk about my feelings. Bonus because if I had any leftover feelings from the moment, I knew someone who could help. (She did help, as always. #ilovetherapy)

So, for my return to the DMV this morning I set a different intention. Instead of wasting time, I wanted to utilize the time that lay ahead of me. I was prepared in my head to be there for 5 hours (better to think it will be much longer than to think it will be much shorter). I then thought about what I would like to get done in 5 hours and what was possible. Hello Sarah, you have a blog to write. Five hours of uninterrupted writing will help the time breeze by.

Right off the bat the line was long and I waited 40 mins just to get a number to be seen. I couldn’t exactly write while I was standing in line, so that 40 mins had a lot of scroll time. Instagram kept telling me I was all caught up… so rude. Then, there was a chatty person in front of me. “Can I ask you a question? Do you have a number? Should I already have one? You were here yesterday? How long was the wait? Do you have a pen?” On and on and on. At first I was back to the “LEAVE ME THE EFF ALONE, damn…” mentality. I smiled politely and answered their questions between scrolls. Then I started thinking about the five hours ahead of me and I wondered why I didn’t want to talk to someone who was just as bored as I was. I then put my phone down and tried to keep the conversation going.

They asked me where was I from, what I do, the usuals from strangers. The not-so-usual from strangers occurs when you tell them you’re a social worker and used to be a child and family therapist. For those of you not in this line of work, it is extremely common for people to hear this and think that they can just get a free therapy session. Often I am stand-offish when this happens and imaginarily cover my ears and say “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you! Nanananana.” *sticks tongue out* In this moment though, I thought, well sh*t, I’ve got time. Hit me. They proceed to tell me about their son who is 5. He just started kindergarten which was so exciting for the family. His class did a scavenger hunt the first day and it was really nice for the family and their son to orient to a new surrounding. However, the last week or so things have been hard. He has trouble sleeping which in turn causes him to be tired in the morning. They said “it is just a battle. Sometimes I can’t handle it. And then you’ve got these moms who brag about their kid going to bed at 7:30pm and I just wonder why he won’t do the same.”  I was amazed at this person just telling me their struggles, so openly and honestly. At one point they whisper “sometimes I just want to give him ambien… I mean I never would, but gosh it is tempting some days”. I pictured this kid, with assistance from the many pictures they showed me, just laying in bed fighting sleep wondering why his parents get to stay up so late, but he can’t.

“So, do you have any tips? Should I, like, take him to a therapist?” Again, said at a whisper.

I took a deep breathe, wondering how to breach the topic of “yo, I don’t know your kids life” in a graceful way. 

But then they just kept talking. 

They talked about their own troubles with sleep and how their anxiety keeps them up with their racing thoughts. How sometimes they need to listen to sleep stories, and take ambien, and need a warm bath before they can go to bed. “Maybe it just runs in the family,” they sighed.

As they are talking, I am so fascinated by their story. I find myself wanting to know more. Not because I am feeling like their therapist at this point, but because it is two people in this place that feels so rushed and hectic, slowing down. The loud speaker is intrusive in the conversation, continually calling out numbers. “B545 AT COUNTER 14.” And then here we are, two total strangers, connecting and passing the time together. I told them about my own life. How I just moved back after living in Alaska and giving them tips if they ever go there. My reasons for getting into social work and how ‘I don’t have a family yet, but I hope to one day.’

“Would you look at that, we’re almost to the front of the line. Thank you for chatting with me, Sarah, it was a really nice way to pass the time. I really appreciate you listening, I know you do it all day for work, but it was nice to just have someone to talk to. And good luck with everything.”

As we wrapped up our conversation I thought about how nice of a time I had in that line all because I decided to challenge my thoughts of ‘avoid, avoid, avoid’ to ‘lets just see where this conversation goes’. I think back to all the times I avoided people and what they had to say and the many connections I overlook on a daily basis. This is not to say that I am going to start talking to every stranger I meet, heck I may not even change my ways at all; it did remind of how simple it can be to just do one thing differently and how that will impact you in any moment.

I have now since left the DMV and am writing in the comfort of my own home and as I was leaving I thought about how I felt yesterday compared to today. Today I was smiling when I left. I utilized my time there, got what I needed, and was even able to gather a whole post just from a single morning. If I hadn’t talked to them, if I just put my headphones in, I don’t think things would be extremely different. I would’ve written about some other thing I’ve experienced, I would’ve gotten my license, had the same lunch, still gone for a run, taken a shower, picked out the same clothes. It just would’ve been one less connection I made in the world.

Then again, I don’t really know, we never do. Perhaps, if I didn’t talk to them I would have become angry again and then decided to leave and just deal with it a different day, then not to run and so on. We just never know how one thing impacts another. I think that is something I am trying to recognize more of. Perhaps tonight when my stranger friend goes home they think about how I told them I’ve met a lot of kids that have trouble sleeping and how they aren’t alone and this thought makes them feel less anxious for just a moment. See the impacts are invisible most times, but I think they are there and I think they all stem from each connection we make. And again, maybe they don’t do this at all, but isn’t it cool that it’s a possibility? That maybe just maybe I impacted their life, as much as they influenced mine. A whole blog post of material, ya know?

I guess I would like to urge you to maybe take your headphones out one day in a crowded place. Maybe start a conversation or don’t write off the stranger trying to start one with you. I think we are all just a little lonely some days and a stranger is just as good as anyone to listen. Heck, you might even make a stranger friend out of it.

A[wo]men

“Can i ask you a question?”

No-

You can ask me a million questions,

fill my head with a million conversations.

Become a stranger friend.

-How to make connections

Life Imitating Art

Yesterday, I gathered my belongings, googled the best spot to get work done in Brooklyn, and took two trains to reach the Brooklyn Roasting Company. I got a delicious peach iced tea and sat in a spot that could only be described as the most ideal place for writing. I waited till I stopped sweating, opened my laptop… and nothing.

I wrote and erased and wrote and erased until I became so frustrated I was crying in the coffee shop. I closed the computer screen and thought maybe I just need to take a walk. I walked to the water, my usual happy place, and, in all honesty, I berated myself. ‘Why can’t you just write something? What is wrong with you? Are you stupid? Poor depressed Sarah, can’t even write about her own life.’ I then came to the conclusion that Tuesday was not my day to write. I felt defeated, low on energy, and pretty worthless.

I went to go eat lunch because I thought maybe that would help. As I sat in the crowded restaurant staring at the people eating lunch together, watching their conversations flow- symbiotic and mesmerizing- I felt alone, alone and sad. I got up at one point to go to the bathroom and my ass hit my neighbors cup as I tried to squeeze between the two tables. I heard the two people laugh and saw their eyes glance at one another. I was already feeling like shit, let’s pile on more. I could feel my face turning red as I sped to the bathroom. The bathroom, single stall, was where I tried to slow my breathing, hoping my red would dull. Of course, I was so embarrassed from the ass-cup incident I forgot to lock the door and my breathing exercise was not only interrupted, but my red face turned even more scarlet. “Someone’s in here” I managed to say in a high whisper. And then I began to cry again. Knowing I had to return to my booth where I had to shove my ass in between the tables again gave me anxiety. So I returned to my breathe, splashed cold water on my face, and avoided the mirror before returning to the table. I finished my lunch slowly, attempting to avoid judgment from my neighboring tables. I had this voice in my head that said ‘if a fat girl eats too fast while she is alone at lunch that won’t look good.’ Literally, no logic to this sentiment, but that’s where my head was at. As the table on my left (not the ass-cup table) was leaving they knocked their entire wine bottle of water into my lap. I smiled and said it was “no problem at all” adding in my head ‘this is just how my day is going.’ I looked at my phone and realized it was time to head to therapy. Thank yeezy.

I thought about how glad I was that I had therapy and how badly I wanted to cancel. I already knew that it was going to be tough one. Yet, I pushed myself to go. I knew it was what I needed. I hopped on the train to uptown Manhattan and arrived 40 minutes early, as someone with anxiety often does, and laid down in Central Park until it was actually time for me to be there. As I laid down it started to drizzle and I thought about how the sky is crying because I am crying. It felt like I was symbiotic with nature in that moment. Both of us rinsing our pain with water. I may not have had a lunch pal but I can always rely on nature to sit and engage with me.

It was then time for my appointment.

I went inside, sat on the couch, and burst into tears. “What’s coming up for you, Sarah?” My therapist often asks me this and I have to think about what is triggering my responses. “I feel empty. I’ve felt empty. I went to write, which is how I usually let things go, and nothing came out.” The session went on like this for about 60 minutes. Crying, exploring, crying, breathing, exploring, crying. Towards the end of the session my therapist said “Sarah, I’m scared for you. Are you scared for you? It feels to me like you are drowning.”

“Yeah, I feel like I am drowning.”

“Have you felt like this before.”

“Yeah, every few months or so. It’s just a cycle I am on. I know this will pass.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Damn, she said that. I was taken aback, but also grateful to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” she continued “but I don’t play games in here. We tell ourselves stories and we start to believe those stories. You have trauma and yes, I am sure it feels like you are ‘stuck on a cycle’ but you are not stuck. It is up to you to end it, Sarah. You have to fight for yourself; everyday you have to fight. It’s not easy, but you have to do this for yourself.”

And with those final words she gave me a hug and whispered again ‘you have to fight’.

I left that room and felt her words echoing in my ears- “You have to fight for yourself.”

I hopped back on the train towards Brooklyn with my next destination in mind. I wasn’t headed home, I was headed to CKO Kickboxing. Why? Well, for one I had made a promise last week to try new things. Two- I walk past this place everyday and think ‘I should really try that’ so I figured today would be the day I do. Three- I am watching Riverdale still and Archie is doing boxing and it looks badass. Four- They have a 29.99 special for three classes. Five- I have to fight for myself.

It was hard. It was painful. It was exactly what I needed. Every hit, kick, run, and jump I felt myself fighting to be alive. Fighting to break a cycle, or a story rather, that doesn’t need to be my story. I sent my therapist a message thanking her and informing her of the class. She told me she was happy for me and that I can do this and to “KICK ASS”.

There are so many stories we tell ourselves yet, we forget that we wrote them and we can erase and rewrite and erase and rewrite until the very end. Yesterday, I felt defeated that I couldn’t write; my pattern of writing and erasing felt exhausting. Today, I realized that was an exercise and reminder for me- the epitome of ‘life imitating art’.  Every time we write we can erase and every time we erase we can rewrite. Today, I woke up- sore from my workout- excited to rewrite.

Everyday I wake up is a chance to keep fighting and writing. I hope you all keep fighting and writing with me.

A[wo]men

*Note: I found my new, amazing therapist from My Wellbeing – a website dedicated to finding the right therapist for you. If you’re in the 5 boroughs area and on the search for a therapist you can truly connect with, follow the link and fill out your profile today*

 

Moving On

Hi, friends! It has been awhile and I am so excited to be back. Gosh, even just typing nonsense feels good. I missed my time and my space that I created for myself here on the internet. I forgot how therapeutic writing for me really is and my goodness do I need all the therapeutic activities I can get. So let’s just dive right in, shall we?

There has been so much going on in my life I barely know where to begin. I believe my last post was approximately 6 months ago, give or take a few. Even in those last few posts I wasn’t in the best head space to say how I was truly feeling or what I was going through. I think I have made it through the fog and I am ready to let it out. “Hold onto your butts” as the great Samuel L. Jackson once stated in the greatest film of all time (let’s fight about it).

I will start with the biggest news of all, I MOVED BACK TO NEW YORK CITY! Basically it all started with a text from my previous intern supervisor informing me that there was a job opening and I was encouraged to apply. As soon as I saw the text, I knew in my heart of hearts that NYC was where I was meant to be. Of course, even when my stomach knows the truth, my brain has a tendency to disregard all natural instincts.

I explored options with friends, family, therapists, trees, stray dogs, the wind, etc. I went back and forth, back and forth, unsure if I should stay or go. Although, everyone around me seemed to know my answer before I did… There were just so many things I loved about Alaska. I have people that I call family there. I loved my kiddos I worked with, they were the reason I woke up in the morning. I never stopped being in awe of the beauty. Alaska was the place I thought I would be for a very long time. However, there were also dark parts of me in Alaska; a side of me I hadn’t seen in a long time. I would isolate myself, avoiding any human contact for as long as I could. I thought about not living anymore, more often than I would like to admit. It got scary. So, as much as the pros of the island were really great, the dark pieces of me were longing to feel light again. After a lot of consideration (and getting hired, which the whole plan was contingent on) I decided to make the move. I spent my last few weeks in Alaska with the people I love, exploring the island. It was the most beautiful 4 weeks of my entire time there. I then loaded up my car, got back on the three day ferry that got me there in the first place, drove to Wisconsin, then flew to NYC all in a total of 5 days. Talk about a wild ride… There has not been a day since I left where I don’t think about the island. There will always be a part of my heart there, just like there was always a part of my heart left in NYC.

Coming back to the city felt like coming home. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I could feel a weight lift off of me. When I was in Alaska and working through my depression, I didn’t realize how far down the hole I had gotten until I was out of the hole and breathing again. It is difficult to recognize something is wrong, after it had been wrong for so long, because that starts to feel like your new normal. I have said this before, but it bares repeating: My depression is my friend. She is a comfort in a lot of ways and often I don’t notice when she has over stayed her welcome, but when she leaves there is an immediate ability to reflect on all the harm she does.

I think I appreciated her presence even more in Alaska because I was going through heartbreak. (I like how I said that in past tense, like I am not still going through heartbreak. Cute.) I felt rejected and hurt and my depression validated my feelings. I would say I was worthless and she would say “yeah, you’re right. Let’s just stay in bed.” At that time, it was exactly what I needed to hear. Ending my relationship made me feel extremely out of control, but giving into my depression made me feel safe. I am sure many of you are wondering about my breakup and want more details, but it just isn’t going to happen. The wounds are still there and I think they will be there for awhile. Love hurts, ya know? *Cue Nazareth (1976)*

While I am not talking about the breakup specifics, I do want to talk about what I have been going through emotionally, in hopes that maybe I find some more healing. Mostly, at this stage, I have felt frustrated. The idea of going through that whole process again to potentially go through more heartbreak is v. upsetting. There has to be an easier way, right? I mean, I guess it’s called being alone, but that doesn’t sound fun either. On top of feeling frustrated, I am also feeling alarmingly scared. I have lost a lot of trust. So much so that I start to panic around strangers, assuming that they want to hurt me in some way. I have been on edge, particularly around male-identifying humans. I know it’s not fair that a few bad experiences have made me generalize, but trust me I am working through it. We’ll get to how in just a moment. I have also felt very confused. I constantly miss this person, yet know I shouldn’t be with this person, but also can’t stop comparing everyone to this person, and all my feelings get jumbled up into a big ball of mess. One big, confused, fucked up, ball of mess. Pretty much the epitome of human existence, I think.

The good thing about all these feelings I have been experiencing is that I am officially out of it, so I can start to work through some of these things. Living in Alaska, seeing them every day… it was really hard and what was harder was letting go. Right now, that is all I am really focusing on. Letting go of the past in hopes that I am making all the best choices for my future. Which is why I am back to blogging and back to focusing on myself and my needs. ALSO, I deleted social media off of my phone and only visit the pages for blogging purposes. It has made a world of difference. My own self-esteem has increased by at least 40%, and honestly, I think that is a gross underestimate. I realized the constant comparing I was doing and the damage it was causing. I would search his page daily, wondering if he was thinking about me. I would find myself googling plastic surgery, calculating how much I would have to save to start looking like the models I follow. It was hazardous. Healing from this way of thinking is the most rewarding part of my journey thus far.

Another part of my healing plan, and desire to get back to trusting others, has included dating again. *EEK*  This is that part of the story that we weren’t ready for earlier. That’s right, friends… A billion dates with men is on the agenda. Okay, maybe not a billion, but really I am trying to create my own form of exposure therapy. I figure that the more dates I go on, the more comfortable I will start to feel around the male-identifying population and perhaps may even find feelings for one them. *not holding breath* It is refreshing to go in with this mentality, solely because I feel very much in control of each situation. I don’t spend time wondering if I am putting on a good show. I actually haven’t worn makeup or dressed up for a single date yet. I am genuinely just there to hear their story and find connection with the human sitting in front of me. I don’t know if this technique is for everyone, but it certainly seems to be working for me. So far, they have all been pretty decent dates too, so that is helping the journey go smoother. *Informercial voice over* Some of the side effects to this form of treatment include: spending a lot of money on dates, being out too late on work nights, spending 5 minutes prior to a date exploring what to do if the person tries to murder you, and of course *relationships not guaranteed*. Other than those few hiccups, it is fun.

I am also dating myself again which is always my favorite thing to do and actually blossomed out of my first blog. RIP Tumblr blog. Last weekend I took myself to the movies. I’ve taken myself out to dinner a few times. I love taking myself out for coffee. I am an excellent coffee drinker/people watcher date FYI. I gave myself time to write. I heart self-love and I am glad I am giving me the attention I deserve.

And with that, I would like to end on a poem I wrote, as I try to further develop my poetic skills and continue to show myself love and compassion in new adventures:

 

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The way the wind rustles the leaves

That is the way I fall in love.

Light and mesmerizing,

without a path to follow.

 

The way the fire burns with rage

That is the way I fall out of love.

Powerful and dangerous,

without water to make it stop.

 

The way the water ebbs and flows

That is the way I heal my soul.

In and out, in and out, in and out

without an end in sight.

 

The way the earth exists for us

That is the way I exist for others.