quandary

I used to like puzzles - a good old quandary. They made my life interesting and exciting. My aunt used to always call that part of me the girl who "live on the cusp" - those bad old Gemini twins. They force out the adventurous side of me. The naughty girl. The one who loves a good adventure. They bring the spice to my life. Lots of excitement. But equally as much as the endorphin rush comes the OMG - what did I just do?
I am feeling really good about myself - finally - after a long period of being locked in a box. I think it is almost like a rebirth of sorts. Finding my true self under all the garbage mental illness has laid on my shoulders. The weight is coming off effortlessly. I am seeing joy and experiencing happiness is ways I never thought possible again. Good old Gemini twins. Should I credit them? Hmmm. Or should I take the credit with the poking and prodding of people who love and care about me? You know, a lot of people have tried over the years but no one has been successful until now.
What do they say? When the student is ready, the teacher appears? I guess two students were ready and both of us empower each other to be better people. It is really nice to watch the transformation. Slowly but surely, good things are happening for both of us and it is nice to be able to enjoy my own success while I see some success on the other side. :)
Now the questions arise. As the weight keeps coming off and as I see the good changes happening in my life, I become fearful because the Taurean in me digs my heels in, afraid of change. Really afraid to take the steps I need to to further enhance my life. To return to the big girl self I am. The adult afraid to do anything. I was asking that friend what they saw in me... Here are the words.

"As I have been telling you all along, you are much smarter than me and you are wasting your immense talents. Everything she said about you is so true - The weight loss, the clothes, the makeup. And it's not because of me. It's because of what you have become aware of again - you are a beautiful, smart, and talented woman. You let yourself be dragged down by your breakdown. Many did nothing but cruelly exacerbate the situation. No one did anything to lift you up.

That's where I came in. I saw a beautiful and fat woman who was doing so much for others. I could just "feel" your intelligence. I knew very little of your home life, but knew it could not be good. So I imposed myself on you. Kept telling you how smart you were and the weight was a minor issue. I am not taking any credit for this, but I have a need to help people and, my dear, you needed it. When we went on that walk - about a block away from where we took our training, you stopped, bent over with your hands on your knees and cried that you were so fat and in terrible shape. I remember putting my arm around you and telling you look how far you've walked, and the weight can come off."

Simple. But it motivated me. Don't ask me how. I guess it was enough to make me see myself as something more valuable than someone who drives a van up and down the valley, who works countless jobs trying to help others see their own value (of course never seeing my own)... don't misunderstand. I love being Kami's mama. But I need to find my own purpose and be the vessel that God created me to be. Not that slow suicidal person eating themselves to death because I don't see what there possibly is to love. It makes me sad to feel that way.

So now I work on Mindfulness to help me with my anxiety. As soon as I get into that space of fear, I stop and find something at this very moment to focus on. Something right in front of me. And I think of it's beauty until the feelings go away. I honor the little girl who was abandoned. I tell her she is safe because I will look after her completely and keep her safe. And I also then say goodbye to the feelings because they don't belong with me anymore. I am worthwhile. I am worthy. I deserve love. I deserve to state my feelings without fear of rejection or abandonment. I can't be abandoned anymore. I am 49 years old.

So to my friend I say thank you and I love you more than words can express. You paved the path to a new experience for me and even though it can be difficult, it is full of wonderment and excitement. I can't wait to see what lies beyond the next curve.

trust...

I have never trusted easily. I used to live by the model, "trust until you're given a reason not to." I tried that for quite a time. It was really hard but I did find that most people didn't want to disappoint me. Because I was a leader - director - of several employees, I had to gain their trust. That seemed easier than letting down my barriers to trust them. In a book I am reading called, "The Courage to Trust", I am learning a lot about where my issues have come from. It all begins with the Child. Then enters the Protector's voice. And finally the Adult's voice. Ideally, you want to put the Adult back in charge. Because, as I have found, my trust basics come mostly from my Child and Protector. Do we ever stop learning and growing?

The Child in us reaches out in tenderness and love and pulls away from discomfort and pain. Because children are not intellectually indiscriminate, it can be difficult to distinguish between positive and negative.  Our nervous system can amp up really high when our child self becomes afraid of someone we love very deeply. This is a place I go often and is what I believe is the root cause of my anxiety. Actually - it probably is ALL of my anxiety.

For instance, an example - I will await the text of a friend whom I dearly love who promised to contact me. My Adult self is excited and can't wait to hear how she's doing. My Child self tells my brain that it won't happen because I don't matter enough. She'll deliberately forget me to teach me a lesson. Not unlike my mother. It is really a silly battle. And finally, my Protector is building all the walls I need to so I am not hurt if I don't hear. Impossible really. My Protector is telling me to take anti-anxiety medication. Now she has always contacted me but once when she fell asleep. But it's the "once" that sets up the tone for the fear and negative reaction. Made harder by a promise.

The remedy? The serenity prayer. To let go and let God.

Our sense of belonging in this world is quite fragile for all of us. The Child will feel panic while the Adult understands and puts everything in perspective.  The Child's angst can quickly overcome the Adult's rationality.  It is indeed like powerlessness. Scary. Holy cow. Wish I could make other people understand how I am wired inside.

The Protectors job is to remember ALL the bad stuff. I don't like this part at all.  It locks away the upsetting memories, often for years - until something triggers their release - like flashbacks really.  The Protector seeks instant comfort. We often first acknowledge the Protector by our inability and feeling of powerlessness to make positive changes. So your Child wants comfort and your Protector keeps reminding you of how you've been done wrong. AMping you up and scaring you for no reason out of your bloody mind.

It is hoped that as we grow, we can move into the adult place. That takes higher self confidence and mature thinking. Empathy and compassion for those who have hurt you. Forgiveness for yourself and others, releasing yourself from past pain and shame.  Assuming responsibility for what happens in your life by cause and effect.  Accepting that there are many sides to every story - you want to hear other's perceptions. The ability to release yourself from bad habits and walk away immediately from people who continue to harm you. And finally, you must recognize that you will survive and learn from your most difficult times. 

The Adult is the guardian and inventor of your life's choices. It is the hallmark of emotional resilience. Your Adult can develop real faith. It can pick up the pieces of mistakes in the past, learn from them and move on.

And this, my friends, is what we ALL must work on. Most especially me!

getting stronger & stronger

Everyday I feel stronger and stronger. My heart knows I am strong. My head remembers my strength. I think at the cellular level, my body can feel quite a bit weaker. When I went down in 1995, it took my breath away. I feel infantilized again and the pain of needing to be supported left a powerful impression on me. That I lacked the skills I needed to be able to take care of myself.
Now all of this is not true. Most especially since I have worked so hard at my wellness. Talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, EMDR, hypnosis, anti-depressants and finally anti-anxiety drugs. I think I have read every anxiety book, done every available class and have tapes I listen to when I feel that anxiety coming on. I also have friends who do their best to empower me with positive messages that help me feel better about my abilities in everything I do. That really helps - except I cannot seem to find my passion.
The greatest dependency I feel in life is that on other people. The fear of being unable to care for myself from that time is difficult to overcome. And often it forces me to stay in situations or behave in such ways that take more of my power to be the adult I know I am, away. That makes me sad and is definitely something I am really working at to heal. I have such a deep fear of homelessness and living on the street. I have no idea where this comes from but it is very real to me. And scary. I am also terrified of being abandoned. But that is the little girl in me who has grown up and cannot be abandoned. Because I should be enough right? So what is the real problem, Wendy?
I try the best I can to communicate my needs to the people I love dearly. Often I don't feel heard. I don't understand that because I think I am clear. It makes me feel sad and unimportant. Disregarded. I also care way too much for other people - thinking that they will, in turn, care a lot for me. Not necessarily true, I am afraid. People are, by and large, selfish creatures and I truly don't believe anyone cares as much for me as I do them with the exception of my daughter. That may sound ridiculous but it is demonstrated by their actions. And sometimes their words. So I face the reality of that everyday. Should it matter? Or better still - why does it matter to me? I need to get rid of my expectations completely. I have no right to expect anything from anyone.
I guess it is that love centered part of me that grieves. Needing to be validated. Needing to feel loved and cared about. Needing to feel heard. Needing to feel wanted. 
So I may look like a great confident package and by and large, I truly am. But unfortunately we all have issues - and these would be mine.
Just a little lost girl, in a big girl's body, looking for a love that'll last forever.
Time to grow up little girl. Be tough. Stop looking for what's never going to be there. Tend your own garden. Turn the impossible off. And live the possibilities.
Because you do matter. To you.

the gift of help when you need it

So it has been a horrible week with my mental health issues. I should be in Detroit celebrating the release of my friend Jody Ortiz' book regarding Raye Dawn Smith's case - the wrongful conviction I advocate so fervently for. Disappointed of course, but there is absolutely no way I could have made that trip. It would have taken me down.
This anxiety and panic is akin to the skin of an onion being pulled off one layer at a time. I try to see it all as growth. That is really hard to do when you are in the middle of your illness. All you think about is the fear of sinking to a lower level. And then what? And you worry about the people who love and depend on you, most especially your child, seeing you in a constant state of panic and confusion. Shaking hands. Tears in your eyes. Red nose. Mascara running. 
I have learned through this experience to be honest with my daughter, who now views this as mama's illness - no different than a bad case of the flu - except mama cries a lot and needs to get rest and remove herself from conflict or potential anxiety. So every time this happens, I am taken to a newer and deeper understanding of myself and the difficulties I have been through in my life on this planet. And I receive a clearer picture of the devastating damage a parent can do to what should be their most precious gift, their child. 
The best thing I have done is tell my child that this illness has absolutely nothing to do with her. It is documented that children believe they cause their parent's emotional and mental health problems. So this alleviates the guilt she might unconsciously assume. She thanked me for reminding her of that because she just wants me to be happy. Of course!  That is what love is all about.
I don't see myself as an easy person to get along with at all. I think I am actually quite a difficult person because I am incredibly complicated. Anyone who wishes to spend time with me on an intimate level - a best friend or confidant - has a hard time convincing me of their sincerity. I do not trust easily. I am on unreasonably and unrealistic high alert. Sometimes ridiculously so. I have narrowed my friendships down to only those I feel I can give 100% to. And I love to be surrounded by giving and loving people. It narrows down my life challenges. Makes life easier and less stressful for me to navigate.
All this to say that I am surrounded by the best of the best in my life. The support that continues to help me get through this difficult time is some of the best I have ever received. My close circle of intimacy moved in to give me that healthy hug. And I am forever grateful to them all.

my true friend Steve

Surely some of you have read what I posted before about the amazing people in my mental health support group.  Everything we share together in our group is confidential which gives all of us a safe place to be. It is interesting to me how our illnesses cycle - some weeks, some of us are doing so well and then there are other weeks, where we have individual or collective pain. When the meeting ends, there is relief and comfort knowing that none of us walk this journey alone.


I find in listening to my peers that a lot of issues causing pain have to do with fear or the dreaded stigma that side-saddles any mental illness diagnosis. Most of us are simply petrified to sink down to the dark places where we've been before. The place where hope is gone, medicine ceases to work and death feels like a vacation of comfort from unending pain. This is a place where shame overwhelms the beauty of what we were all created to be. God doesn't make junk. We are all simply divine. I believe that. And I believe my mental illness has been one of the greatest gifts I have been given because I am so much better a person for it. Truly. 


You'd think that one would only feel shame when they do something deliberately painful to harm or hurt others. Or maybe one feels shame when they hurt someone deeply - this would seem appropriate don't you think? But this is not so. Because when you have a mental illness, most people lack the knowledge, compassion and understanding to treat you appropriately. They fear you. They just don't treat you like what you have is simply a physical disorder of the brain. Whether intentionally, by those who say they love us, or unintentionally, because of a lack of education, people proliferate shame on those who already feel ashamed simply by their diagnosis.


As adults suffering from mental illness, in not sharing with each other we close doors to healing. To solid advice. To mutual support and empowerment. To the love we deserve from each other simply because we are all part of the same human condition. It was so painful for me to suffer in silence that I have chosen to be very public about my illness and its related issues. And I think it has helped me tremendously because not only am I able to help others, but I feel safer and stronger being truthful about my limitations.


The reason I write this is to honor the courage of my friend Steve, who as he proclaims, had his "coming out" today. I met Steve at the end of March - he must have seen a poster about our upcoming Peer to Peer Class at his office posted by a former Board Member. I had never met Stephen but I do remember his telephone call - he sounded like a no nonsense, clear speaking man -  interested in learning more about mental illness in general. I, the ever emotive and enthusiastic facilitator, tried my best to sell him on the course that we were going to offer to benefit people newly diagnosed with mental illness.

Well he actually came to the class. And he was in quite a rage filled place. As it turns out, he was incorrectly diagnosed. However, in the second or third week, he received an accurate diagnosis, the appropriate care for his illness and the medication he needed to manage his illness. It has been pretty much straight up from there. He was supported by our group in his need to have more sleep. He fought for and sought out the help he needed to get the medication and support he needed from the appropriate psychiatrist, actually "firing" the one who would not listen to him. Fabulous! Steadfast and stoic (his words). He attended all classes except for one where he was going to support his daughter's event. True to the lovely heart of an adoring dad.


I just took the time to reread every single email he has sent me since we first became acquainted. They are interesting to me because they show his determination to fight for his wellness. To stop the merry-go-round of self medicating to level off the noise in his mind. They also show his emotional progression from rage to self-deprecation, to analyzing his situation, to acceptance of his illness and situation, to rational examination of his situation with his illness, to finally accessing the impact on his family. By and large, I would say he is completely clear in his thinking. He still carries plenty of shame. Still. Not unusual. It's been 15 years for me and I still hold on to it tight. It is my hope his shame will dissipate as time passes and he learns to love himself again; seeing his true value as a beautiful person with an illness he didn't ask for. However, he is examining his life goals, desires to clean up areas of his life that feel askew, wishes to impart a sense of his deep love and paternal security in his daughters that he feels he deprived them of while abusing alcohol and is enjoying a renewed sense of self; this includes empowerment, confidence, discovery (seeing his world around him in a new light) and self esteem. In all of this, I get to celebrate his growth. His positive encouragement is like a hand reaching down to me and pulling me back up to my feet, modeling to me to reach my own true potential. It makes my heart sing. He is exactly the perfect face of recovery from mental illness. Recovery should be all of our goals when we become diagnosed. Too bad no one tells us this. 


Today, I was witness to this beautiful man, who calls himself perfectly broken and who claims to be shy, stand up and proclaim with clear understanding his personal struggles with alcohol, with his fumbled misdiagnoses and his final diagnosis of being Bipolar 2. When I hear the word Bipolar, despite being the Executive Director of NAMI - WRV, it scares me. Because, as a mental illness, it is one of the most challenging ones to manage. When you have Bipolar illness, it is critical to be surrounded by love, compassion and plenty of rest; it is the only way to maintain stability and prevent the cycling that often comes from this illness. This is an exceptionally bright man who had the courage to admit that in an attempt to slow his mind, would self medicate to make life more bearable for himself and perceivably those around him. He laid himself out, dropped the stoicism for a time and gutted himself to a group of strangers to show them there is life with unlimited possibilities after such a cataclysmic diagnosis. Today he was my hero.


And I smiled with so much pride in this man whose journey I have followed, who I would trust my very life with and thought, we aren't much different from each other. Our labels might be different, but we all deserve respect, honor, tolerance, understanding and most importantly forgiveness and above all love. Everyone with a mental illness deserves this as Steve clearly pointed out today.


Thank you Steve for being a real man. Thank you for showing me all things are possible. Thank you for your courage and for offering it to all of us. 


What none of you know is that currently, I am in a very bad place with my own mental illness, fighting the good fight for my wellness back. The gift of your example Steve, shows me I will be well once again. And no amount of money in the world could have given me that sense of strength and empowerment like you did today. You made me believe that all things are possible and I simply wish to offer you my deepest gratitude. And from the group, our deepest gratitude - for being such a fine leader and for setting such an exemplary example. 


I promise you, cross my heart, to be there for you when you need me. 

hi my little dolly darling....

I am playing a song called, "House of Sorrow" written for a compilation called "In the Nursery".  This is the 1927 video you see above. Ignore the video Wend. 

When I hear it honey, it brings up very painful feelings of being left alone. Left alone so many times. However, sweetie, there is this beautiful melody underlying the sadness of the song. If I can post it I will so that others can hear how there is such hope in the song. And you held on strong to that hope of finding the love you needed to get through everything you had to endure.

I found this song while searching for information on the Holocaust. It stopped me in my tracks because it took me back to a time when I felt so alone in my bed, afraid you would get hurt. And it reminded me of Sally telling me never to discount what you went through. Like being strapped to a movie theatre seat watching Holocaust movies. I must fully accept what happened to me, the abuse, and then say to you, "I am taking your hand and leading you to a better life. One you deserve. Filled with love and laughter. One where your heart will sing. Laughter and joy everywhere." 

Honey, you know, you only deserved to be loved so deeply. You were so sweet and kind to your mommy and daddy. You just wanted them to love and accept you. You danced so much. Played so happily. You wanted all this attention for being a good wee girl. And you were the best you know - always getting the best grades, always impeccable manners. You loved your neighborhood friends. You protected your friends and didn't hurt anyone willingly.

Sure - you played little pranks around the house. You made your share of gaffs just to get noticed. But it was hard to get noticed because there was so much fighting going on around you. It made it really chaotic for you to just have an imaginative, fun little life.

I want you to know that everyday I thank God for your strength. There was a time when I was ashamed of you because I thought you were punished because it was all your fault. But now I know better. A mother is love. A father is love. Both need to provide love and care to protect and nurture their child. Unfortunately, this wasn't to be for you. However, you did receive some wonderful lessons and empowerment to be able to help others who have suffered similarly to you. And that is the gift. Truly.

I am going to keep writing to you wee one. Because I don't think you believe I am really here for you. That is evidenced by all the anxiety I am feeling because I know you're in there telling me I am not strong enough. Well I am telling you back that you need to let that go and let me be your parent. Because I do a great job with my own daughter and I can do a great job for you if you'll let me try. I certainly will do my best and you know I will reach out when I need help for you and for me. Because we deserve it.

I love you little Wend and I know this is a tough time for you. You are missing your daddy terribly and right now, every year, you have such a hard time knowing the one man who you believed would always be there for you is gone.

Guess what Janey, he is. He is just in another form. He hears you cry and he wants to make it better. He just can't. And somewhere in your heart you know that he would have stopped what was happening if he really knew.

Don't be ashamed. I can feel your shame because now you are thinking you have shared too much with someone about the things that happened in your childhood. He is safe Wend. He loves you. He is safe. Breathe and stay calm. He is safe. You are safe with him. You are safe. He won't hurt you because he loves you. Truly. He does. And he is not going to abandon you. He promises to be there for you all the way through this. You just need to find the confidence to take his hand and let him lead. You will be alright. Time. Sweetheart. Time.

dirty little bastard

That dirty little bastard called anxiety is back invading my space. So I have picked up lots of books to read to help me empower myself to be my own best defense against it. To know that the fear is something I can conquer. It is my little girl that is petrified of being abandoned and too afraid to exert her power. So I am going to write some letters to my little Wendy and tell her that I am here to take care of her and everything will be alright. I can do this. I also intend to cut back on many of my obligations at this point. I cannot carry the load I am carrying and need to honor my body's need for more rest, exercise (in the form of walking) and reconnection with my girlfriends. I need to alter the shape of how my life is going. I need to bring joy back into my life. In opening back up to my circle of friends, I allow them in to help me see that things will be alright. Absolutely. 
Anxiety for me is a time related issue. It can escalate into sheer panic. Or it can simply take time to dissipate. I think in this case, if I continue to speak my truth as it arises, I will be able to allow it to present it's challenge, move with it as it moves in me, listen to what it is trying to tell me and then hopefully bid it farewell.
I cannot allow the fear to strip me of the power I feel when I am well. I deserve to be happy and whole. I am long since past the trauma of my childhood and I need to recognize that no one can do these things to me again unless I allow them. The fear comes straight from my childhood place of abandonment. When I am able to set this free, my life in all other areas will become fuller. More rational. And sane.
So on with the journey.
I am going to start with a letter to little ole' me.