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

Kitty Sopow: The Wish

Imagine you’re a child sitting in a field of grass; you see a dandelion and your eyes perk up. As you pluck it from the base of the earth, you think of the one thing you wish for most in the world. What was that young you thinking of? What did you whisper to yourself as you blew the seeds into space to take on a new life? 

For Kitty Sopow it was always the dream of her parents getting back together.

This week we will be exploring the brave and honest story from my dear friend, Kitty.

I met Kitty in a Target in Anchorage, which is strange because neither of us lived in Anchorage and neither of us lived in a Target, although it sometimes feels like it. Kitty had known my then boyfriend through Skype calls as they worked together on a project. As we were strolling down the aisle I remember him squinting his eyes and saying to me ‘I think I know her’. Then he said it to her, “I think I know you”. I remember looking at Kitty and thinking ‘damn… she’s cool.’ She had punk rock hair, 70’s fashion glasses, with printed leggings and an oversized sweatshirt on. She had a huge grin on her face as she finally got to meet her friend outside of the screen. I lingered back from the conversation, as shy people often do, trying to not embarrass myself in front of the cool kid.

“Kitty, what were your first impressions of me?”

“I could tell.. you were like ‘something is wrong with this bitch!’”

“HA All I kept thinking is… this girl is a badass!”

“WHAT?!?”

This is where I like to begin because this is where Kitty and I began. And, as I’ve learned many times in my life, first impressions are often *pardon my language* total shit. She said she thought I didn’t like her. She thought I was assessing her, trying to figure out if she was into my boyfriend or not. She shared that when she first moved to the island in Alaska for the summer, which is how we became closer than a Target meet and greet, she thought I was a “wet blanket”. RUDE. To be fair, she only knew me for five seconds and thought I was scared she was into my boyfriend- I can’t hold that against her. We all do it. Another commonality among the human race. And so, this was where our story began: Through thoughts not discussed, but impacting the relationship regardless.

As we continued on the with the interview, agreeing that we were closer friends by overcoming our preconceived ideas, I started to find a common theme- often the things we don’t talk about are creating the biggest impact in our relationships.

“Why do you want to tell your story? 

“Well, ya know, I want to support you. And I’m always the one recording stories, so [I thought] it would be kinda nice to reverse the rolls…”

Kitty just graduated with a Masters of Science in Applied Anthropology in August of 2019. This degree is what brought her to Klawock, Alaska and into my life. For her thesis she wrote about subsistence on Prince of Wales. She interviewed people about the role subsistence plays in their lives. I spent many nights with Kitty hearing her talk about her interviews and would see the way she lit up when she became a part of someones story. In a way, I think she influenced me to start this project of telling other peoples stories. Seeing the way she became so involved and immeshed in each persons way of life was intoxicating.

“What do you like about your role as the interviewer?” I asked. 

“You know, you just sit in silence and people just tell you what’s important to them and I think that’s really cool.” 

Kitty, still airing that ‘cool girl’ vibe even today, is sitting on her bed, morning hair falling every which way, as she paints her toenails a merlot red. Oversized boxer shorts and a fitted tank top sets the tone for an ‘I woke up like this’ conversation.

“So [Kitty] the other part of today, obviously, is talking about a story that you have that you feel like might connect with other people… Do you have a story in mind?”

This is where I started to see a different side of Kitty. Her words became a little more rushed than normal and I could feel her energy shift from confident to unsure. The cool-girl vibe still lingered but mixed with a story that she has been holding in for some time. 

“Can I cry while I tell you.. I think I know a story I want to tell…” 

Her eyes were watering and her voice began to shake. She took a deep breath in.

“When I was a kid, there were dandelions all over the place, obviously in the spring. And uh, and my Aunt told me if I picked one up and blew, when all the whispers went away in one blow your dream/wish would come true. And they would always say that stupid wish would come true, like, if you wish on the first star that you saw or, or like, *sniffles* you blew all your birthday cake candles out in one blow your wish would come true, but I never could… and for years all I did was wish my parents would get back together. And yeah… sometimes I sit here and I forget that for years I would just oh, I would wish so hard every night when I’d see a star, every year on my birthday, or every f****ing single breath in the spring I would wish that. And they never got back together and so… I would go from like being at my dads house with my step-mom who hated me, to going to my moms house with my step-dad who we hated.”

I could tell this was something she didn’t talk about often. This was a story that came through with most of her relationships, both platonic and not, but was never said out loud. It felt as though Baby Kitty was sitting across from me, still just wishing on her flowers, candles, stars and now blog posts for the miracle of a family that didn’t know the word ‘divorce’. I know she isn’t alone. I’ve sat with friends, clients, partners, you name it, who all dreamed of different family dynamics. My parents never got divorced, but I remember when things would get bad, using some of my own wishes on a desire to feel like the Brady Bunch. I didn’t talk about it for a long time though. Blood is thicker than water, therefore, it is easier to drown in. As Kitty took her deep breaths between sentences, it felt like she was working her way up to the surface. With each word that left her lips, the heaviness seemed to start lifting. She was no longer holding in the story that held her under for so long.

Kitty was coming up for air in front of my eyes. 

Kitty went on with how this whole situation impacted her choices moving forward. She, like a lot of kids that have difficult relationships with their families, learned to be independent. She knew as soon as she could leave their care she would; her ambitions fueled by the desire to be done with needing her family. That mentality, however, started to feel a bit bit blurry when she got the news that takes over much of the space in her mind today. 

“I was just like thinking you know, wow, like I spent years just thinking about that one wish, ya know? Now it’s just weird because well my moms got breast cancer… and I had to call my dad and tell him. And it was like, I’ve know for a long time that my moms had cancer like at first she had skin cancer, then had cervical cancer, and now its in her breasts and lymph nodes and my dad didn’t know any of this… and he was like ‘Oh, thanks for telling me.’ And I just thought that was, like, just weird. It’s so weird. What’s really weird, okay, is so my dad’s mom also has cancer. Everyone else knew that my mom had cancer but my dad didn’t and it was just weird. ‘Oh yeah dad, sorry, you’re the last one to know my moms had cancer for like a year… And its like, you know, I know my dad at one point had to have feelings for my mom… so, like, I wonder what he is thinking?… his mom has cancer, his ex wife now has cancer, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘oh my daughter is going to get cancer.’

As she said this sentence I could feel my body start to heat up, because all I could hear in that sentence was ‘oh, is my friend going to get cancer?’ My friend, that was so rawly telling me about the difficult childhood she had and her family’s battle with cancer, and the person that was there for me in some of my darkest times, would I see the day that she get’s sick? I tried to let the thought pass through, not letting it derail the conversation. 

She continued on about this strange dynamic that now existed and then it hit me, was my friend sitting there also wondering if she was going to get cancer? 

“You know [Kitty] you mentioned your dad wondering if you were going to get cancer, but is that something you’re thinking about?”

“I think so. I always thought I was going to die from suicide or cancer,” she shared as she was laughing through her nose.

Kitty uses laughter as a way to cope with the dark things in her life. It is something that I love the most about her. She continued to make jokes throughout the interview, saying things like “my mom is the one-percenter of breast cancer, so bow down, she is a one-percenter.” When I lived with Kitty we would spend hours laughing at everything we could. We would talk about our suicidal ideations like it was going to be the kickstart for our stand-up shows. No matter the topic we find a way to laugh together. But the good thing about knowing Kitty, even more after this interview, is that I know that between the laughs there are deep, deep pains that spill out with hard crying. This interview was no different, oscillating between laughter and tears. I could feel her pain and I could feel her trying to cope with that pain. 

She went on to talk about her two siblings who have gone through the same events, but how they handled it much differently. 

Kitty talks about her family through a lens of empathy, wanting to have a deeper understanding of the choices that were made as to lessen the pain and the way it impacts her daily life. She told me about her brothers and how much it affects them. She recalled the disconnect from her older brother as he pushed away from any sort of connection, which they have now started to rebuild. Then to her younger brother, who is still working on finding himself. As she then laughs and throws in “So, yes I am the middle, obviously.” Needing to interject some more comedy to help protect herself. 

All of this disconnect and hurt with her family kept her on the move. She winded up in Alaska in August of 2012. If there is one thing that Kitty has always made clear to me, it’s that Alaska held one of the most special places in her heart. 

“And so, do you think you’ll be in Alaska forever?”

“You know, I used to think that, until my mom got sick again. I’m gonna go home for a little bit. It’s not healthy for me to be there for a long time. I haven’t been home for more than 5 days in like 7 years. Yeah, I was thinking about going home for a month.” She was quick to note that she wouldn’t be staying at her families homes, she would be renting a place, still finding ways to keep herself safe. 

It felt as though Kitty was letting go of something as the interview came to an end. She was recognizing that as we get older we can take our history and rather than let it define us we can let it inform us. Kitty still cares deeply for her family, regardless of the unfulfilled wishes from her childhood. She is there for her mom and they are all working together to get through all the ways cancer derails their lives. Her wish now transforming into one of keeping her mother alive, healthy, and married to anyone, so long as she can stick around.

Kitty, who I see as a strong, bad-ass, presented me with very real vulnerability. I felt so connected to someone I already call a close friend. Hearing her story, I was humbled by the ways I didn’t know this part of my friend. It reminded me that whether you are sitting with a complete stranger or your best friend, there are always new stories to discover, so long as you leave space for people to tell you what’s important to them.

“Okay last question for you, Kitty. Is there anything you want to recommend to people hearing your story and have experienced or are experiencing the things you have experienced?”

“Uhm, probably just self-care and mindfulness and sometimes self-care isn’t a bubble bath it’s actually getting a f****ing therapist and talking about some shit. In order to have productive self-care I think you need to know a lot about yourself… Self-care doesn’t necessarily feel good. It can honestly be the most painful thing you ever do.”

Blunt enters the screen, another coping skill she has acquired over time.  

She continues, as she exhales from a deep drag, “my mom consumes every thought of mine right now. I’ve been crying a lot lately… Here I go crying again.”

“I wish I could hug you.”

Through the tears, “I just want to say that if my mom were here she would say ‘google how to do your own breast exam. And don’t forget to get your mammogram at dat 40’ and then she would cross her arms and give you the look.” 

Sound advice, I would say.

And I would like to add, never stop wishing on anything you can. As Kitty so perfectly demonstrated, sometimes hope is all that we have to get us through a difficult time.

A[wo]men & Kitty Sopow

* Featured image gathered from story-teller (From left bottom to right bottom: Joe, Terry-mom, Kitty, Pearce-dad, Bobby)

Vows, schmows. I don’t care.

Is it hereditary?

I really don’t know.

-Divorce by Kitty Sopow

If you or someone you know is interested in having their story told please fill out the contact form located on this website.

***For more information on the story-teller, follow her on instagram @sopowart

The Inevitable Connection

Hello folx. So, this weeks post is going to be a bit shorter because I am gearing up to do my first post on the most recent interview I did! I am so excited with how it is turning out and *Alert* you are not going to want to miss next week’s post. It will bring all the feels. Of course, I can’t bring all the feels without some serious dedication to transcribing and really getting deep into the work, hence the shorter post this week.

So, here goes the quick snapshot:

Tears flowing, ice cream in one hand, hitting the ‘continue watching  button’ on Netflix in the other, and on-again, off-again napping throughout the day. That was my Sunday- a ‘straight out of a rom-com’ scene. My body was on empty and I tried all day to refuel it with anything that I thought would make it happy.

‘You wanna go on a walk, girl? How ’bout a nap? Is she hungry?’

Turns out, I was exhausted from dating.

I called some friends to tell them how I was feeling. I told them how I feel empty, how I can’t believe I am still thinking about my ex, and how I keep meeting these really great guys and I can’t seem to move forward with any of them. They all responded with the same exact words: “You’re trying too hard.” Okay, rude, but like… so real. Thank goodness for friends and therapists, amiright?

So, I deleted the apps. I erased the accounts. I’ve called off the search for now.

I’ll be honest, the sense of relief that came from that small act was unreal. I couldn’t believe how much pressure I was putting on myself and how easily I could take that pressure off. I don’t know if you’ve ever done this, but sometimes I feel like I am going a million miles an hour and I can’t slow down because if I do I will fall apart. Of course, I always do slow down and I do fall apart and that breakdown is the catalyst for me moving on. A lesson I seem to keep forgetting.

I think that’s why I was putting all my energy into dating. I didn’t want to spend time thinking about all the hurt and change I experienced in a months time. I was recently reminded of everything I’ve gone through. In one month, I left a job and started a new one, I moved across the country and then moved again across Brooklyn, I quit drinking coffee, I went through a major and minor break-up. It almost feels unreal because I blew right past all of it. So, I am finally slowing down. I am sitting in all the change that I have endured and letting it wash over me.

The beauty is that we have all experienced some change in our lives and I am sure you can attest to the grieving process it can evoke. Just remember, that change is inevitable and that’s a beautiful thing because it’s just another way we can all connect to one another.

And as a sneak peak into next weeks post: The story-teller went through some big changes of her own at a young age and it has impacted the major changes she is going through today. I hope to connect more with you all next week through this brave and honest story.

A[wo]men

Fire and ice burn up through her throat,

a tornado inside.

“I can feel it,”

Water flows from her eyes,

sinking into the creases of her smile.

“I’m human.”