In this moment in time, within this ever-changing and unimaginably vast Universe, my life needs a reset. I'm not talking the type where one of your lives is lost in a game of Super Mario and you start at the mid-way point where you slapped that little flag to save your spot. I am talking the type where you set your phone all the way back to factory mode because you have watched way too much porn and there is just no other option (scary thought, I know). This is it. This life...this moment...is all I've got. I need to make major changes if the next half of this game is going to be fun and so I don't end up falling down an abysmal hole.
I am 36 years old. I've been through much tragedy over the last 10 years and, somehow, I have survived it. I've experienced more life and death than most do over far greater time periods. I have dealt with my sometimes extreme emotions in various ways; some healthy some not-so-much-so. I have traveled, played, cried, danced, listened to copious amounts of wonderful music, lied flat in bed, staring at the wall for hours, I have broken shit, screamed, walked through forests, birthed a child, raised him to the best of my current abilities. I have made love, made meals, made beds, made tinctures, made Christmas ornaments, made snowmen (and women). I have loved and lost and loved and lost until I felt I could no longer take another breath. I have a PhD in life.
So here, right now, I am evaluating what has been and what is possibly to come next. I recently got off an antidepressant that I had been on for 1 year and 4 months. The withdrawals were pure hell and I didn't know if I would make it. But, as I prove time and time again, I am resilient. I feel more alive, albeit more emotional, than I have in years. I am ready for change. I am also heavier than I've ever been (even at 9 months pregnant), more confused about what I want than I have ever been, and very much alone on a day to day basis. So....what now?
I am going to take baby steps as Bob would say (if you don't get the reference just stop reading and go find yourself). I am going to make small changes in the direction of health. I am going to re-build my coping mechanisms that I lost while on my medicine. I am going to envision what I might want to do with my life. I am going to meditate more, breathe deep, dance and practice yoga regularly for once in my life, and take more hikes through the moss-filled forests. I am going to meet friends for lunch. I am going to relax and take more baths. I am going to cry when the feeling arises (this is a major one for me). I may not know exactly who I am or what I want to "do" with my life, but I believe these small steps in the right direction will take me where I am needed. Where I can give. Where I can thrive. The rest....is history.
Player 1: Ready!
Friday, December 7, 2018
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
Enough?
I am feeling a bit sorry for myself this morning. Not because someone "out there" did anything to me or some outside circumstance has got me down. I am feeling bad because of what I have NOT done with my life thus far.
Growing up I dreamed big...like, really big. At one point I thought I would be a punk rock singer when I grew up and adopt 6 children while living on the coast of Australia in a giant treehouse. Then I decided I wanted to be a famous actress and live in a replica of the Emerald Castle. Other occupations that crossed my vivid imagination included figure skater, professional go-go dancer, drummer, psychologist, writer and naturopathic doctor. My most recent dream has been to get my Masters degree in Ecology and become a field ecologist.
I have worked towards these goals somewhat. I auditioned for acting schools in NYC as a teen, I took acting classes, dance classes, studied herbal medicine, went to college over the course of 9 years. I ice skated and made up my own routines on my small town ice rink, I cross-country skied through the woods with my family, I took drum lessons and my parents bought me a drum set. I read for a decade about psychology and went through enough of my own first hand experience to earn a doctorate in my opinion! I've started several novels over the years. But alas, I never stuck with any path long enough to do a damn thing. So here I am, almost 36, a stay-at-home mom with a child now in school, completely lost. I have lost all interest in college classes with their over priced books and boring subject matter. I am aging more rapidly than I would have imagined and still very much single. I have zero degrees and zero real world skill sets (ok, I can build a fire). I still don't know what I want to "be" and I am already grown up!
Above all else, I always imagined I would be a career woman with a partner by my side. Neither of these dreams has come to fruition no matter how much I fucking visualized because I never did the hard, dedicated, consistent work. Now I feel very stuck and uncertain about my future. On top of all of this self pity I have developed an extreme social anxiety over the years that leaves me feeling ever more hopeless.
I know I have been through much tragedy and I know I am resilient. The fact I am not addicted to heroin right now is kind of a miracle actually. I am a pretty good mother I believe and have raised my son to the best of my ability and am trying to improve as a mother daily. I have created gardens, beautiful home spaces, another human being, laughter, and much love throughout my journey. I have helped others and grown immensely on both emotional and spiritual levels. I have read so many books I am practically shitting out words! So I am not saying my life has been a waste by any means. I am not sure what I am saying.
Maybe I dreamed too big? Or my dreams weren't even what I really longed for. It seems if I found the right path I would have stepped up and done anything to make sure I reached my goal. Or maybe my self worth has just been so low I won't allow myself any level of actual success?
This is an open-ended blog because I genuinely do not know. There is no pretty bow or finishing statement that will tie this all together. I am still here, unsure, working on myself daily and raising my son. Maybe that has to be enough for now.
Growing up I dreamed big...like, really big. At one point I thought I would be a punk rock singer when I grew up and adopt 6 children while living on the coast of Australia in a giant treehouse. Then I decided I wanted to be a famous actress and live in a replica of the Emerald Castle. Other occupations that crossed my vivid imagination included figure skater, professional go-go dancer, drummer, psychologist, writer and naturopathic doctor. My most recent dream has been to get my Masters degree in Ecology and become a field ecologist.
I have worked towards these goals somewhat. I auditioned for acting schools in NYC as a teen, I took acting classes, dance classes, studied herbal medicine, went to college over the course of 9 years. I ice skated and made up my own routines on my small town ice rink, I cross-country skied through the woods with my family, I took drum lessons and my parents bought me a drum set. I read for a decade about psychology and went through enough of my own first hand experience to earn a doctorate in my opinion! I've started several novels over the years. But alas, I never stuck with any path long enough to do a damn thing. So here I am, almost 36, a stay-at-home mom with a child now in school, completely lost. I have lost all interest in college classes with their over priced books and boring subject matter. I am aging more rapidly than I would have imagined and still very much single. I have zero degrees and zero real world skill sets (ok, I can build a fire). I still don't know what I want to "be" and I am already grown up!
Above all else, I always imagined I would be a career woman with a partner by my side. Neither of these dreams has come to fruition no matter how much I fucking visualized because I never did the hard, dedicated, consistent work. Now I feel very stuck and uncertain about my future. On top of all of this self pity I have developed an extreme social anxiety over the years that leaves me feeling ever more hopeless.
I know I have been through much tragedy and I know I am resilient. The fact I am not addicted to heroin right now is kind of a miracle actually. I am a pretty good mother I believe and have raised my son to the best of my ability and am trying to improve as a mother daily. I have created gardens, beautiful home spaces, another human being, laughter, and much love throughout my journey. I have helped others and grown immensely on both emotional and spiritual levels. I have read so many books I am practically shitting out words! So I am not saying my life has been a waste by any means. I am not sure what I am saying.
Maybe I dreamed too big? Or my dreams weren't even what I really longed for. It seems if I found the right path I would have stepped up and done anything to make sure I reached my goal. Or maybe my self worth has just been so low I won't allow myself any level of actual success?
This is an open-ended blog because I genuinely do not know. There is no pretty bow or finishing statement that will tie this all together. I am still here, unsure, working on myself daily and raising my son. Maybe that has to be enough for now.
Saturday, September 1, 2018
Lonely Day
Loneliness has been a recurring theme throughout my life. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my alone time...always have. I love sitting with a cup of hot coffee and a good book, or wandering the forest by myself just enjoying the sounds of nature. This is not the loneliness to which I am referring here. I am speaking to a deep aloneness in the very pit of my psyche and heart. Something unshakable and unfathomable. Something that has traveled in my side car always: taunting me through the passing wind. "I'll be waiting" it has whispered. And now, in this moment, it is here....sitting on my lap.
This is both an existential loneliness (we will lose all that we love) and a very real and present aloneness. Yes, I have my five year old son by my side much of the time. Now that he is in school I am able to enjoy moments to myself. But beyond that, I spend most of my time without another adult around. I see them out and about, wave to my neighbors, carry on small talk at the grocery check out. But I very rarely have in depth conversations or connections, in person, with people I have intimate connections with (not even talking about intimate in the romantic sense). I am very alone. Isolated. And it really sucks.
Now, I know what you are thinking: why don't you go out and make more friends or hang out with ones you already have?? I know this seems like the obvious solution. For me, however, it is just not that simple. I suffer from a case of extreme social anxiety and I struggle with cycles of depression. I have trouble looking people in the eyes none the less approaching them or starting a conversation! I feel inadequate most of the time to even maintain a friendship. I am in therapy, on meds, and working on my issues and trying to heal. I am just afraid this process will take years and I will spend those years utterly alone. I love the time I spend with my son (well mostly) but I crave more adult interactions. More raunchy laughter. More campfires and games of Scattergories. Not in groups and not necessarily with couples (third wheel anyone). Just one on one. Comfortable. Easy. Can I get an Amen?!
Alright...just venting a bit. Back to watching my son do his marble run on this long ass weekend.
This is both an existential loneliness (we will lose all that we love) and a very real and present aloneness. Yes, I have my five year old son by my side much of the time. Now that he is in school I am able to enjoy moments to myself. But beyond that, I spend most of my time without another adult around. I see them out and about, wave to my neighbors, carry on small talk at the grocery check out. But I very rarely have in depth conversations or connections, in person, with people I have intimate connections with (not even talking about intimate in the romantic sense). I am very alone. Isolated. And it really sucks.
Now, I know what you are thinking: why don't you go out and make more friends or hang out with ones you already have?? I know this seems like the obvious solution. For me, however, it is just not that simple. I suffer from a case of extreme social anxiety and I struggle with cycles of depression. I have trouble looking people in the eyes none the less approaching them or starting a conversation! I feel inadequate most of the time to even maintain a friendship. I am in therapy, on meds, and working on my issues and trying to heal. I am just afraid this process will take years and I will spend those years utterly alone. I love the time I spend with my son (well mostly) but I crave more adult interactions. More raunchy laughter. More campfires and games of Scattergories. Not in groups and not necessarily with couples (third wheel anyone). Just one on one. Comfortable. Easy. Can I get an Amen?!
Alright...just venting a bit. Back to watching my son do his marble run on this long ass weekend.
Friday, August 10, 2018
The End of an Era
All three of my cats are high right now...and so am I! (High on life that is. Come on! What do you think of me??) It's a Friday night around 10 pm. I just finally snuck out of my 5 1/2 year old son's room after his failed attempt at sleeping in the living room self-made fort, yet again (When will I learn??). I am wearing leggings covered in bats and a long grey tank top with a sports bra (like you give a fuck!). I am currently sitting on my living room floor, chilling with the cats, highly (cough) anticipating a bowl of chocolate ice cream with some crumbled, organic, oreo-esque cookies on top. That, I have discovered over the last 5 1/2 years, is something to look forward to and hope for in life.
I have been a stay-at-home-mom for the entirety of my son's life so far. When I tell people this, I get one of two responses generally. People either say "Oh you're so LUCKY!" or they say "How do you DO it?" Either way, they are right! I didn't know what to anticipate in this career (it fucking IS a career) as I had never contemplated being a mother in my entire lifetime up until about 2 months before I got pregnant! So I kind of took it as it came, the way you would a car hitting you unexpectedly while closing your eyes and skipping on a crosswalk.
The first few months, of course, were just a zombie-esque blur. Boob, change, boob, rock, soothe, boob, pace, change, boob...you get the idea. And notice that the word sleep does not exist on that continuous loop. Nope, you're just a body with boobs. And a gaping vagina with lots of blood oozing out of it. And a bed that you often pass by in the night like an old lover. I had some help from my family which was WONDERFUL, but I was a single mom from the get-go which was HARD.
The pre-walking baby years I found much more enjoyable. My son finally became cute instead of like a half-rotten plum with enormous feet! He interacted, laughed (the best), drooled, still pooped a lot and still needed the boob like an alcoholic on Christmas. He was SO CUTE though. This is when the personality starts coming through. This, for me, was when I fell in love. Yes, I am admitting that I was not one of those moms who instantly fell in love with my wrinkly-ass black tar pooping spawn! So what? Eventually I did so who cares? He's fiiinnnneee.
The first steps were glorious. All I had imagined. So much pride floating in the air as my little man stumbled his way across the living room floor for the first time. One lone tear fell down my cheek. That feeling lasted exactly one day, immediately followed by the feeling of impending doom. He was now officially a fucking toddler. Lord save the Queen.
During the toddler years I got into a relationship with an old lover and friend. We ended up moving on a whirlwind to the coast and those years are The Blur Part 2. I am still not sure if I ever got a chance to sit when I wasn't driving or shitting for about 2 years straight! I'm serious. My little mofo was a daredevil. It was almost like he wanted to get hurt! One day I was taking my 4 minute shower, I came out to check on my son, and he had pulled a chair over, gotten up on the counter, and taken out a knife!! No joke. He had done this in the matter of 4 minutes and he was 1 1/2! I was horrified. I somehow managed to fly across the room and get the knife away from him faster than a fucking wizard. I NEVER kept anything sharp any lower than 6 feet after that day. Lesson learned. And luckily before my child was seriously injured.
This is how I have found motherhood to be though... a series of trials and errors, mistakes (oopsies), boo-boos, kisses, tears, laughter, and most of all: zombie hood. It has been so incredibly difficult I cannot even speak to it entirely. I might compare it to a stint in 'Nam or a really intense marathon where you're covered in shit and only have one leg (being a single mom at least...but I believe all moms feel this way at times).
So now, as I sit on my floor alone on a Friday night, salivating at the thought of Breyers, I think ahead 17 days to my son's first day of Kindergarten. I always visualized I'd be popping a bottle of bubbly as he got on the bus and just soaking myself in it like my own personal wet t-shirt contest. Honestly though, I'm a little sad (Damn you older ladies, you were right again!). I know he will enjoy it SO much because he is SO social. I also know that I desperately need the space and time alone to do some inner and outer healing work after being the giver for many years without many breaks. But, deeper down, there is that ultimate mom in me who will miss it being "just the two of us". We have shared amazing adventures over these years, gotten through a fuck load of stressors and multiple moves, fought like The Honeymooners, goofed around like The Marx Brothers, played hours upon hours of board games, read hundreds of books (or the same 10 books a hundred times), bonded, matured together (he has far surpassed me now), walked down more roads than a lost donkey, roller-skated, rode bikes, climbed trees, watched too much TV, played many games of hide-and-seek, explored nature and insects, and snuggled like mofos!! Yup, I'll miss it. Here's to you Benny...on your new adventure!
I have been a stay-at-home-mom for the entirety of my son's life so far. When I tell people this, I get one of two responses generally. People either say "Oh you're so LUCKY!" or they say "How do you DO it?" Either way, they are right! I didn't know what to anticipate in this career (it fucking IS a career) as I had never contemplated being a mother in my entire lifetime up until about 2 months before I got pregnant! So I kind of took it as it came, the way you would a car hitting you unexpectedly while closing your eyes and skipping on a crosswalk.
The first few months, of course, were just a zombie-esque blur. Boob, change, boob, rock, soothe, boob, pace, change, boob...you get the idea. And notice that the word sleep does not exist on that continuous loop. Nope, you're just a body with boobs. And a gaping vagina with lots of blood oozing out of it. And a bed that you often pass by in the night like an old lover. I had some help from my family which was WONDERFUL, but I was a single mom from the get-go which was HARD.
The pre-walking baby years I found much more enjoyable. My son finally became cute instead of like a half-rotten plum with enormous feet! He interacted, laughed (the best), drooled, still pooped a lot and still needed the boob like an alcoholic on Christmas. He was SO CUTE though. This is when the personality starts coming through. This, for me, was when I fell in love. Yes, I am admitting that I was not one of those moms who instantly fell in love with my wrinkly-ass black tar pooping spawn! So what? Eventually I did so who cares? He's fiiinnnneee.
The first steps were glorious. All I had imagined. So much pride floating in the air as my little man stumbled his way across the living room floor for the first time. One lone tear fell down my cheek. That feeling lasted exactly one day, immediately followed by the feeling of impending doom. He was now officially a fucking toddler. Lord save the Queen.
During the toddler years I got into a relationship with an old lover and friend. We ended up moving on a whirlwind to the coast and those years are The Blur Part 2. I am still not sure if I ever got a chance to sit when I wasn't driving or shitting for about 2 years straight! I'm serious. My little mofo was a daredevil. It was almost like he wanted to get hurt! One day I was taking my 4 minute shower, I came out to check on my son, and he had pulled a chair over, gotten up on the counter, and taken out a knife!! No joke. He had done this in the matter of 4 minutes and he was 1 1/2! I was horrified. I somehow managed to fly across the room and get the knife away from him faster than a fucking wizard. I NEVER kept anything sharp any lower than 6 feet after that day. Lesson learned. And luckily before my child was seriously injured.
This is how I have found motherhood to be though... a series of trials and errors, mistakes (oopsies), boo-boos, kisses, tears, laughter, and most of all: zombie hood. It has been so incredibly difficult I cannot even speak to it entirely. I might compare it to a stint in 'Nam or a really intense marathon where you're covered in shit and only have one leg (being a single mom at least...but I believe all moms feel this way at times).
So now, as I sit on my floor alone on a Friday night, salivating at the thought of Breyers, I think ahead 17 days to my son's first day of Kindergarten. I always visualized I'd be popping a bottle of bubbly as he got on the bus and just soaking myself in it like my own personal wet t-shirt contest. Honestly though, I'm a little sad (Damn you older ladies, you were right again!). I know he will enjoy it SO much because he is SO social. I also know that I desperately need the space and time alone to do some inner and outer healing work after being the giver for many years without many breaks. But, deeper down, there is that ultimate mom in me who will miss it being "just the two of us". We have shared amazing adventures over these years, gotten through a fuck load of stressors and multiple moves, fought like The Honeymooners, goofed around like The Marx Brothers, played hours upon hours of board games, read hundreds of books (or the same 10 books a hundred times), bonded, matured together (he has far surpassed me now), walked down more roads than a lost donkey, roller-skated, rode bikes, climbed trees, watched too much TV, played many games of hide-and-seek, explored nature and insects, and snuggled like mofos!! Yup, I'll miss it. Here's to you Benny...on your new adventure!
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Who are YOU?
What is this life about? What defines success? These are questions I have been asking since I was a child. According to American “culture “ we are meant to go to college, get a good job, get married, pop out some kids, travel a bit, and retire on the beach. With a few prescriptions thrown in along the way to avoid feeling anything on this pre-designed path.
I was raised by hippies with a good work ethic, both high school drop outs with beyond tough upbringings. They both eventually got some form of higher education and were always reading and learning on their own. I was taught to meditate and appreciate moments in nature. They did not push the typical agenda on me, but somewhere along the way I picked it up on the breeze….through the media and schooling. My school motto was “Never Be Less Than The Best” for fucks sake! With our love of competition and christian values, Americans really have an interesting take on life.
But…this is not my take. Not my truth. I’ve spent my life forming a personality with solid opinions and beliefs, morals, unconscious definitions of what is supposed to be by certain times in life. Who came up with the rules though? A dude wandering the desert building shit and drinking wine? …not my truth. The founding fathers of America who had human slaves and thought they could own a land that was inhabited long before their ancestor’s arrivals? ….not my truth. The media whose job it is to numb us and sell products to make us somehow better than we inherently are to begin with? …not my truth. The education system that was formed to turn out factory workers to make products for consumption? ….definitely not my truth. So, what is MY truth? Who am I without the outside world seeping into my brain and defining for me what is “right” or “wrong”?
I am, for the first time in my 35 years on this planet, completely unsure of who I am or why I am here (or at least aware I am unsure). I know nothing. I don’t know right from wrong as I tend to lean towards the grey anyway. I don’t know what success would look like for ME. I have always just thought I needed a masters degree, a career, and a tight stomach to be seen as capable in this culture! This is not a deeply examined reality for me though. It came from years of it being pounded into my brain from all angles. Even shaving isn’t a choice I consciously made but something I considered a requirement within femininity (Thanks Bic razors!). I didn’t choose to be raised Baptist and be taught what are considered sins and then feel all the subsequent guilt as a result. I certainly did not want to stay stuck in one town my whole upbringing but I had to do so. Besides, “they” say it’s what’s best for the child.
I believe what is best for the child is allowing them to be whoever they are, no edits. They should be able to come to conclusions through discovering the world around them. Through travel, chores, love, fights, laughter, exploration and the senses. Play. I wonder how different I would be if I had this freedom from cultural expectations? This ability to bloom fully.
What is my point here? I don’t fucking know! I am just exploring, awakening, questioning, and trying to surrender to the stars from which I came for once. Start from scratch and find out who I am and what is most important in my life. I do know I want a family unit. I do know I want travel and adventure. I also know I love to be immersed in nature and silence. I know I want to define success on my own terms and decide what my unique gifts are to bring to this crazy beautiful planet.
So….what next?
I was raised by hippies with a good work ethic, both high school drop outs with beyond tough upbringings. They both eventually got some form of higher education and were always reading and learning on their own. I was taught to meditate and appreciate moments in nature. They did not push the typical agenda on me, but somewhere along the way I picked it up on the breeze….through the media and schooling. My school motto was “Never Be Less Than The Best” for fucks sake! With our love of competition and christian values, Americans really have an interesting take on life.
But…this is not my take. Not my truth. I’ve spent my life forming a personality with solid opinions and beliefs, morals, unconscious definitions of what is supposed to be by certain times in life. Who came up with the rules though? A dude wandering the desert building shit and drinking wine? …not my truth. The founding fathers of America who had human slaves and thought they could own a land that was inhabited long before their ancestor’s arrivals? ….not my truth. The media whose job it is to numb us and sell products to make us somehow better than we inherently are to begin with? …not my truth. The education system that was formed to turn out factory workers to make products for consumption? ….definitely not my truth. So, what is MY truth? Who am I without the outside world seeping into my brain and defining for me what is “right” or “wrong”?
I am, for the first time in my 35 years on this planet, completely unsure of who I am or why I am here (or at least aware I am unsure). I know nothing. I don’t know right from wrong as I tend to lean towards the grey anyway. I don’t know what success would look like for ME. I have always just thought I needed a masters degree, a career, and a tight stomach to be seen as capable in this culture! This is not a deeply examined reality for me though. It came from years of it being pounded into my brain from all angles. Even shaving isn’t a choice I consciously made but something I considered a requirement within femininity (Thanks Bic razors!). I didn’t choose to be raised Baptist and be taught what are considered sins and then feel all the subsequent guilt as a result. I certainly did not want to stay stuck in one town my whole upbringing but I had to do so. Besides, “they” say it’s what’s best for the child.
I believe what is best for the child is allowing them to be whoever they are, no edits. They should be able to come to conclusions through discovering the world around them. Through travel, chores, love, fights, laughter, exploration and the senses. Play. I wonder how different I would be if I had this freedom from cultural expectations? This ability to bloom fully.
What is my point here? I don’t fucking know! I am just exploring, awakening, questioning, and trying to surrender to the stars from which I came for once. Start from scratch and find out who I am and what is most important in my life. I do know I want a family unit. I do know I want travel and adventure. I also know I love to be immersed in nature and silence. I know I want to define success on my own terms and decide what my unique gifts are to bring to this crazy beautiful planet.
So….what next?
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