Passionate

I haven't worked in the last 8 months. I had anxiety just typing that sentence. Unemployment has such a negative stigma associated with it. It took awhile for me to get over that. Saying or writing the word “unemployed” somehow evokes a feeling of shame. It’s shoved in your face in some of the most unexpected places too; at the doctor getting my flu shot, filling out an online order form. I was sure I was going to be asked at the Target checkout buying tampons. It’s also one of the first things people ask you upon meeting.

I began thinking ahead of time how I’d answer this question. In addition to being unemployed, I was/am single. (hit me up). It being 2016, I’m on the dating app Tinder. When signing up for a profile you’re prompted to list your profession. It’s the first thing you see under someone’s picture. If it doesn’t happen to be listed, or is a vague description, such as “self-employed” (which usually means weed dealer, btw), then it’s the first question asked when you’re chatting. Well, in my case it’s the second question. I’d rather know how tall you are… I can date a dealer, I cannot date someone who is 5’6”. 

So what did I say to people I met? Well, I straight up lied to some - knowing of course it wasn’t going anywhere. I’ve been a Spiritual Retreat Leader, a reporter for “High Times” magazine, and my favorite, Personal Concierge to Donald Trump - the irony was too amusing. Others I skirted around the issue, saying I was doing side jobs, etcetera. A select few would be privy to the truth, I am a 33 year old, single, unemployed woman. Look away children - the horror!!

Our identity is so wrapped up in what we do when, in most cases, our jobs are not a direct reflection of our passions. Sure you’ll meet or know a few people who are in sync with life and work, but mostly you just hear about them on TV or the internet: Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Oprah, Bono…

The thing is, I’m a decent, dare I say, semi-awesome person. I have no criminal record (yet), I’ve never had a DUI, the only things I’m addicted to are Sour Patch kids and Leonardo DiCaprio. I love making people feel loved and I try to be humble and grateful for everything I do have.

True love spans the ages

It would be kinda creepy weird however, if that’s how you introduced yourself to someone.

“Hi, my name is Jacqueline. I’m a super awesome person who loves animals and making people feel loved”. I’d sound like Malibu Barbie. 

You also cannot list these personal attributes in a resume:

• Strengths: organized, detail oriented, super awesome
• Weaknesses: puppy cuddles, tart candies

I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to think more about this as I’ve filled out hundreds of applications and sat through multiple boring interviews. It’s unfortunate that we put so much emphasis on occupation. I wouldn’t be any less of a kind, funny person if I were a cashier at Walmart, but would I date a cashier at Walmart? Probably not. There’s such a double standard involved.

Now, as my unemployment is coming to an end, I’m thinking real hard about what I want to spend my time doing. Sometimes the thought of working in an office from 9-5 makes me want to bash my head against a file cabinet. The images of fluorescent lights and stale coffee haunt my dreams. At the same time, the comfort of a steady income is almost an inherent need.

I’ve been reading books about “finding my passion”. “Big Magic” by the uber talented Elizabeth Gilbert, was wonderful. It had a general bias towards writers which was “write” up my alley - get it… write… (Did I mention I also love puns?) The more I’ve thought about what I love, the more signs I’ve noticed pointing me towards writing. I come back to it ALL THE TIME. I love literature and storytelling. I love quotes and lined notebook paper. I love the direct connect between my mind and my keyboard. I love how I can be moved to tears upon reading just one powerful sentence. I love how I can fall in love with someone who doesn’t really exist. Writing is magical. I need it in my life to feel complete.

Once I’ve edited a blog piece and have it ready to post, I feel a sense of euphoria. It’s a rush knowing how many eyes are going see it. It’s scary to know every word will be dissected and digested by total strangers and friends alike. But it moves me, it makes me feel present and totally connected to myself. I can tune out anything when enter the writing zone.

So that’s it, that’s my passion and my calling in life and right now as I write this, I’m putting it out to the Universe that this is what I want, and this is what I shall have!

I’m not becoming a writer, I AM a writer.

Ok, I’m climbed down from my magical unicorn now. I fully realize that I cannot simply apply to be a writer. If I’d like to switch career paths I’d need to go back to school, which isn’t out of the question, but not a feasible option right now. So, until my first novel takes off, or I become a millionaire for some reason, I’m going to have to step back into the sometimes soul-sucking working world. I’m doing so with renewed energy. I finally know the path I’m on is the right one. I can feel it in my guts and bones.

I don’t know how long it will take. I don’t know how many more stale cups of coffee I’ll ingest, but I can see my end game now and I am pumped, friends!

I’d like to say a “thank you” in advance for your support. Your good vibes, positive energy and encouraging comments are truly the magic behind the reason I can do this! I’m excited and terrified and kinda craving some sour patch kids. I know ya’ll will stay tuned and hopefully my journey will inspire some of yours.

Cheers to our passions, friends!

Love and much gratitude,

Jax

*PS: my apologies for the wonky line spacing and font size, the platform isn't playing very nice with me tonight*

Haaaaave you met Ira?

Well, I finally did it. After much contemplation I decided to adopt another dog. I had to put my sweet Luxie Lou to sleep in May and it's been pretty empty around here without her. She left big doggy paw prints on my heart though, so it took awhile to warm up to the idea of a new furry friend in my life.

I visited the Humane Society a few times looking for a good match. I looked at several doggies, all of whom were wonderful, but I just didn't feel the connection I was looking for, the one I had when I locked eyes with Miss Luxie 9 years ago.

Then I met Ira, AKA Pickles... he was shivering in his kennel. I called him over and he reluctantly came to the door. A volunteer took us into a room where I could play with "Pickles" and see if we were a good match. As soon as I started to pet him, he leaned his head against me and it was done. I couldn't fathom putting him back in that kennel. So I adopted him.

"Pickles" still at the Humane Society 

Adoptions are exhausting!

I named him "Ira" after Mr. Ira Glass from This American Life.

Channeling his predecessor

I think Luxie Lou would approve

He's been home for 3 days now and has been coming out of his shell little by little. He's a pretty shy guy. He was scared of the ceiling fan, the stairs, the elevator, the door... Now he confidently strides into the elevator and even sits on command, sometimes.

He loves watching TV

Hanging out in the sunshine and fresh air

Checking out the view

We have a lot of work to do, but we're doing it together and it feels pretty good to have a furry friend to get out of bed for again in the morning :)

Such a handsome boy!

Ferris Wheel

Depression is a disease of contradictions. I feel alone in a full room. I feel overwhelmed in an empty apartment. I long for companionship, but dread being in the company of others. I crave change but fear the adjustment to it. I want someone to cuddle me but I don’t want to be touched.

It’s as though there is a constant tug of war going on in my head. “Go out, stay in. Be social, do something alone. Stay up late, go to bed early”… it’s exhausting, so exhausting; physically exhausting. I feel guilty for the lack of energy I have. I assume people are judging me, hell *I* am judging me. I’m on a break from work. I literally have no responsibilities right now except to get up in the morning, take my medicines and make it to doctor appointments. When my bosses so generously gave me this time off to take care of myself I was so relieved. I thought “Ok! I’m going to get my shit together again! I’m going to rearrange and de-clutter my apartment, make it feel fresh and relaxing again. Exercise is something that every mental health professional suggests makes a huge difference in how you feel, so I’m going to start doing yoga every morning and try to meditate.” I started this great mental checklist that I was sure would help put me back on the right track.

Do you know what I've done so far in the almost 3 weeks I've been off? I moved my furniture around, leaving a mass of freshly unorganized items in its wake and gone to the pound twice to look at dogs. I haven’t gone grocery shopping, I haven’t done yoga, I haven’t even cooked myself a real meal. I sure as hell haven’t exercised. I just can’t. I don’t have the mental will-power. I start the day with good intentions, but they fade so fast sometimes I’m not sure I even had them at all. The only thing I know I can do is sleep. Some days I could sleep all day. And some days I have.

My lack of ambition worries me, though my therapist assures me that it shouldn't. During my last visit she wrote on a paper for me to take home “rest is doing something” But I don’t feel like my “resting” is beneficial. It stresses me out. Not having a plan to follow and just waking up each day with no agenda is making my anxiety worse, on the contrary, the thought of making an agenda and trying to stick to it terrifies me!

I’m stuck in this depression/anxiety Ferris wheel. I guess that’s a fairly accurate description because I can’t just jump off, I have to wait until this stops so I can make it off safely.  Not having the controls though is frustrating. I guess it’s just more patience, more faith that I’ll get in to see a psychiatrist that will put me on the right kind of meds, more waiting and more blogging.

Depressed

I feel like I have a million things to write about, but nothing at all. I guess that’s a perfect analogy of my life right now. I’m deep into a soul sucking, energy zapping, mental marathon of a depression.

Depression is an extremely personal disease. Though I’m usually comfortable writing about most of my afflictions and issues, depression is one I've kept closely guarded the past 10 years or so. That is until the most recent bout, when I finally asked for help and the results that came about.

I've been medically treated for depression for about 10 years. I started seeing a therapist, as it was strongly suggested when I was diagnosed with MS. Though I've had my ups and downs, for the most part I've been able to lead a well-rounded emotional life. The last few months though, it’s like all the issues I've been trying to maintain came boiling to the surface and erupted.

I didn't wake up in this hole of a depression. It was a culmination of sad events that ignited it. I had to put my dog to sleep; my boyfriend – suffering from his own depression – broke up with me and moved out. It was then, slowly, oh so slowly depression entwined himself into my everyday life, making even the simplest tasks exhausting.

After a couple months, I was no longer sleeping through the night. The stress and lack of sleep caused my eczema to flare even more than normal. At my worst I was covered on over 75% of my body. I couldn't stop itching. My skin was so red it looked like I had sunburn. I was constantly cold from radiating so much heat; I was embarrassed about how it looked. I had been living from steroid treatment to steroid treatment for my skin and I guess my mind and body finally had enough.

My lowest of low days was a Saturday. I got up at 10am, drank a cup of tea, and had an uncontrollable crying spell that put me back into bed until 5pm. I got up and ate some toast, remembered why I had been crying before and went back to bed until 9 the next morning. I wandered around the rest of the weekend like a zombie. My thoughts were either racing too much to think straight, or I couldn’t form a coherent thought. I dreaded getting up to go to work. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, ashamed of my skin and stressed out that I was not pulling my share of the load in the office.

I resented everyone I talked to who was in a good mood, I withdrew from social engagements, I stopped posting on social media. I felt like I was covered in tar, moving slowly, constantly wiping it out of my face, trying to see what was coming.  I couldn't keep up anymore.

I went into work on a Monday and told my bosses what was going on. I have only been at this job for 6 months; I was terrified of the reaction I would get. I shouldn't have been surprised at the fact that they were wonderful. They offered to give me time off so I could sort out everything without the added stress of work. They gave me the flexibility to work from home and come into the office when I felt like it. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me – telling me to put my health first.

So I went home that day, cried more and tried to put together a plan of what to do.  I saw my therapist who told me that this was the worst depression she has seen me in and suggested an intensive day therapy program. I went to my general practitioner who told me she was no longer comfortable managing my depression and anxiety meds and told me I needed to see a psychiatrist. I went to my dermatologist about my skin that referred me to a specialist at the U. They gave me new meds to try (again) and referred me to an allergist. My skin started to clear up and I started the search for a psychiatrist. I called several places who either aren't accepting new patients, don’t take my insurance, or have a month long wait list. I’m banging my head against a wall! I finally decide to put my health first, to do something to manage this state I’m in and I cannot get help!

I’m trying to be patient, but I feel awful. I’m antisocial; I don’t want to be in public. I have an impossible time trying to find the positive in things. It’s like a big dark cloud is covering this deep pit where I’m stuck sitting. It’s terribly lonely because no one knows what to say to someone who is depressed and anxious. It’s not like a cold – you don’t just “get better”. You don’t wake up one day saying “man! I’m so glad this depression is over!”

It’s a waiting game, it’s a dangerous one. I get why people end their lives due to depression. The feeling of hopelessness is a horrible one. Feeling like no one understands what you’re going through; feeling like no one cares, feeling like a fool for not being able to “snap” out of it… I suffer from severe asthma, severe eczema, allergies, multiple sclerosis, anxiety and depression and I can tell you that out of all of these things, depression is the worst. It’s not visible to the naked eye, it’s hard to explain, and there are no “chicken soup” remedies to help you feel better.

It’s just keeping putting one foot in front of the other. It’s getting out of bed each day even if it is 2pm. It’s giving yourself a break if that’s the only thing you accomplished that day. It’s holding onto the hope that a doctor appointment is coming soon. It’s remembering that this is a chemical imbalance in my brain – not something I caused and that with the right medications I’ll feel able to feel happy again.

At the end that’s all I really want. I don’t want to be a millionaire or have hundreds of friends. I don’t want to be a size 4 or conquer the world, I just want to wake up and feel joy again. I want to go to bed excited to start the next day. I want to feel utter contentment for the life I have built for myself. Maybe, just maybe – tomorrow will be the start of that day. 

IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW IS SUFFERING FROM DEPRESSION AND NEEDS HELP, PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT: 1-800-273-8255

Still "hooked"

It’s been awhile since I’ve written about my little hook worm friends. I thought I’d share an update. As you may remember I got my first dose of hookworms in March of 2011. I got another “booster” dose in July 2011, June 2012, September 2012, and most recently in March. Let me explain further. After my initial does I opted to adopt 50 more worms. The staff at AutoimmuneTherapies and I discussed this option thinking that with the severity and stubbornness of my allergies, asthma and eczema, I might do better with a few more. The June 2012 dose was given with the same thought. I had seen great improvement but it has seemed to drop off a bit. Several weeks after that dose I realized I hadn’t gotten any of the “symptoms” I had experienced in previous doses. Sometimes the travel can be too much for the little guys so occasionally they aren’t viable when they reach their destination. The Autoimmune team and I agreed that another dose was in order.

This is a great representation of the
size of adult worms

 The winter months came on and I wasn’t feeling quite the same as I had in my first year. My eczema was flaring and my asthma seemed to be on the brink of bad again. In January 2013 I had an asthma attack that landed me in the hospital. On one hand this was sort of an awesome discovery. Before I got hooked up I was guaranteed at least one ER visit a year for my asthma. To have two years go by without one was awesome. The downside was that I didn’t think my worms were pulling their weight. I discussed this with Autoimmune Therapies and they requested I send them a “sample” so they could determine if I still had active worms producing eggs inside me. The “sample” was not so great to obtain. The only way to measure worm egg production is when they are expelled from your body… as poop. Yup, I had to send someone a sample of my poop. I countered the “ick” factor with the thought of what Jasper had to do get his worms… tromp thorough a latrine in a third-world country. At least I didn’t have to step in poop.

This is a how the worms migrate through your body.
Just replace the step where you get "Ground Itch" and put in
"applied larvae to arm". The larvae then continue on their journey.
When Jasper initially got his worms, he DID step in infested soil!

So I sent my sample off to England to be analyzed. The results I received back weren’t as great as I’d hoped. There were eggs present which mean that there were still live female worms in my gut. However, with the amount of worms I had been dosed with, they had expected to see more eggs. I ordered another round. That was April 8^th of this year.

So I’m exactly one month in. It’s too early to tell if there have been improvements. My skin has cleared up pretty fast, but it’s around week 4 that allergies can worsen. I’m keeping an eye on this. We’re just approaching allergy season here in Minnesota. Tree pollen has been high and flowers and weeds and grass soon to follow (hurry up worms!!) I’ve also been trying to keep a healthier diet. I figure if my little worm friends are working their butts (tails??) off for me I should step up and do my part to help. I’ve started drinking green smoothies every morning. They usually consist of Kale, Spinach, orange juice and some fresh fruit, usually a banana or some strawberries. They are delicious and don’t at all taste like the sound they might. I think eating more nutritious foods will only help in this over all process. I checked with Autoimmune Therapies about taking a probiotic as well. I don’t want to take anything that will potentially lessen any effects the worms might have on my body. Probiotics are ok!

People still check in with me to see how I’m doing. When I take a step back to analyze where I am health wise now as opposed to where I was 2 or more years ago, the results truly have been life changing. This past January when I had the asthma attack that put me in the hospital, I hadn’t realized just how exhausting asthma can be. For the larger part of my 30 years here on earth I’ve struggled to breathe every single day. I didn’t know any different. I puffed on my “rescue” inhaler a few times and went on with my day. This past January my asthma started to get bad on a Friday night. I couldn’t think of anything that had tipped it off. By the following Saturday I was really struggling, taking my rescue inhaler and then taking nebulizer treatments. I was exhausted. My whole body ached from laboring to breathe. My shoulder and neck were in knots and I was sleep deprived. When Sunday rolled around I was too tired to fight it anymore and had my boyfriend take me to the hospital. I did have the choice of being sent home or staying overnight. In the past I would have gone straight home, but that was when I was more seasoned in labored breathing. It took less effort to recover back then. So I spent the night if only to get some rest. While hospitals definitely aren’t quieter than home, they are more relaxing to me for the fact that I know someone is right there if something happens. 

I went back to work the following Wednesday and it took me a good week before I finally had all my energy back. It was then that I realized just how much things have changed since I brought my little worm babies home two years ago.

I've also seen marked improvements in my allergies. While I still have symptoms they are 100% better than they were. Before the worms, I always had a stuffed or runny nose. People were always asking if I had a cold. Since my first dose, I've seldom had a stuffy nose. It's so great to be able to breathe! I seem to be less reactive to other allergy and asthma triggers as well. While I am still somewhat reactive it has been far less dramatic then in the past. I gave my dog a bath the other day and came out of it hive free. That used to be a huge chore I avoided. I'd have to wear long sleeves and long rubber gloves to avoid getting her wet hair all over me. We dove right in last week though and I had no hives or skin reaction whatsoever. 

My MS (knock on wood) has been pretty much non-existent. So much so that some days (SOME days) I can almost forget about it. I am still very cautious to avoid potential triggers like excessive heat. I take care to listen to my body. If I'm tired, I take a nap. If I'm too hot, I turn on the air conditioner. It's taken me a long time to push aside the embarrassment of my health issues and focus on taking care of myself. I guess I've moved into a more accepting attitude vs. the hiding and denial I used to foster. 

I’m certainly not to the point I’d like to be, but I’m realizing that nothing is an instant cure all, but taking care of me mentally and physically will support the process. So I continue to take my meds – though I have been able to back off some. I see my wonderful therapist a couple times a month, and I try to focus on what I have right now.  

I’m hoping I keep heading in the right direction. The next few months will be a better indicator.

If you know someone who could benefit from this sort of treatment or if you’d like to learn more, click on the link here check out Jasper Lawrence’scompany, Autoimmune Therapies. He and his staff are truly wonderful to work with. I’m so grateful the universe put us together! 

Fuel Tank Full of Happiness

A couple years back I wrote a blog called “Man Wish List”. For some reason this evening I was thinking about that list. I started going through my head contemplating what I wanted now versus 2 years ago. I’ve grown quite a bit since I wrote that so certainly my tastes must have evolved. I started thinking about “what I want” and the answers that popped into my head were strange. I realized that they were no longer references to a specific man (ie: tall, funny, blonde…) they were references to how I want to be treated and how I want to feel in a relationship. Seems that maybe 27 year old Jacqueline was a bit more conceited than 30 year old Jacqueline.

When I had written my “Man Wish List” it was a compilation of things I had put up on dating websites.  I had gotten mixed reactions and quite a few negative comments, and I can’t really blame them – everything I wrote was pretty superficial. So I’m going to amend my Man Wish List. 

I believe that I am healthy on my own. I believe that I don’t need someone in my life to make me happy (see “Cherry”) however it would be nice to feel like the person I'm with, the person I want to love, can top off my happiness. I like to think of me as a gas tank. I’m almost full and I have enough fuel in me to keep me going, but that little extra support/love/kindness from my significant other just tops me off. It keeps me going longer.

So here are the things that can top off my tank:

I want someone to make me feel like I am one of the most important parts of their life

I want someone to let me know they think about me as much as I think about them

I want someone who I can lean on when things get tough

I want someone who will know when I say “I’m fine” that I’m really not fine

I want someone to romance me and make me feel beautiful

I want someone to take the lead instead of letting bossy me make all the decisions

I want someone who will support me in my endeavors, no matter how crazy they may seem

I want someone who will cheer me on when I’m down

I want someone who will leave me love notes and send me unexpected texts because they know it’s the little things that I love the most

I want someone who will stand up to my bullshit and tell me "no" when they know I need it

I want someone who will not judge me for my shortcoming or flaws

I want someone who will push me to be better than I am

I want someone to make me feel like their equal instead of their inferior

I want someone who will every once in a while say “aw, fuck it!” and go with the flow

I want someone who will push me to say “Aw, fuck it!” so *I* will go with the flow

I want someone to respect my feelings and opinions even if they might not agree

I want someone who can challenge my feelings and opinions with healthy conversations

I want someone who I will still be able to laugh with in 60 years

I want someone who will be as honest with me as I am with them

I want someone who will take me on expensive shopping trips to the mall and who will show up at my house with a romantic love poem and flowers and a giant stuffed animal of some sort and then serenade me with an angelic voice and I’ll cry tears of joy and we’ll kiss and he’d tell me that he thinks I’m hotter than Kate Upton and that he’s so sorry it’s taken so long to find me… Wait, maybe I’m getting a little off track ;) I guess in the end what I’m getting at is that it’s not the money or the stature or the good looks that I’m seeking. I’m seeking someone to compliment me, not to fill a void. Just to clarify though, I’d never turn down a giant stuffed animal ;)

Serotonin Boosters

I've been too emotional lately to listen to much music. Every song has a hidden message reminding me He is gone. But last weekend, enlightened by the wonderful weather, I cranked up my jeep stereo. This song came on, by an artist I'd never heard of. It's got a pop-ish almost 90s feel to it and I almost turned it off until I heard the lyric "I've been dipping in my darkness for serotonin boosters". It's not often you hear the word serotonin in a song.

By the time it was over I was noddin' my head (like, yeah ;) ) and drumming out the beat on the steering wheel. Breaking up sucks and sometimes I swear it's the long recovery period that is the worst. So I was a little jazzed when I heard this. Some of the words made me wonder if Frank Turner himself had pulled memories right outta my brain. I'm enthralled with music for just that reason. Just when you think no one else could possibly know what you're going through, someone puts your feelings to music.

"Recovery" by Frank Turner

Blacking in and out in a strange flat in East London. Somebody I don't really know just gave me something to help settle me down and to stop me from always thinking about you.

And you know your life is heading in a questionable direction when you're up for days with strangers and you can't remember anything except the way you sounded when you told me you didn't know what I should do.

It's a long road up to recovery from here, a long way back to the light.
A long road up to recovery from here, a long way to making it right.

And I've been waking in the morning just like every other day. And just like every boring blues song I get swallowed by the pain.

And so I fumble for your figure in the darkness just to make it go away.
But you're not lying there any longer and I know that that's my fault.

So I've been pounding on the floor and I've been crawling up the walls. And I've been dipping in my darkness for serotonin boosters, cider and some kind of smelling salts.

It's a long road up to recovery from here, a long way back to the light.
A long road up to recovery from here, a long way to making it right.

And on the first night we met you said "Well darling, let's make a deal.
If anybody ever asks us, let's just tell them that we met in jail." And that's the story that I'm sticking to like a stony-faced accomplice. But tonight I need to hear some truth if I'm ever getting through this.

Yeah you once sent me a letter that said "If you're lost at sea, close your eyes and catch the tide my dear and only think of me."

Well darling now I'm sinking and I'm as lost as lost can be and I was hoping you could drag me up from down here towards my recovery.

If you could just give me a sign, just a subtle little glimmer. Some suggestion that you'd have me if I could only make me better.

Then I would stand a little stronger as I walk a little taller, all the time.
Because I know you are a cynic but I think I can convince you. Yeah, cause broken people can get better if they really want to. Or at least that's what I have to tell myself if I am hoping to survive!

It's a long road up to recovery from here, a long way back to the light.
A long road up to recovery from here, a long way to making it right.

So darling, sweet lover, won't you help me to recover, darling, sweet lover, one day this will all be over.

These Are The Best Days of Our Lives

The first night of the year you can sit outside on the patio after 7pm without a coat on is something divine in Minnesota. If you’ve never lived through months of temperatures hovering with “highs” in the 30s and 40s (and those are the GOOD winter months) then you simply cannot understand the feeling. It’s as if you’ve added hours to your life. There is a reason to stay up later, there’s a reason to stay out later.

Every year at this time or thereabouts, I get an overwhelming feeling of peace and sad nostalgia. I’m not sure how two such conflicting emotions can coexist. They mingle inside me like the moments before you stir mixer into a glass of liquor. You can see the two meet and intertwine like coy playmates before fully coming together as one.  

I miss the summers of years past. The summers of my early twenties were some of the best of my life. I had just taken the training wheels off my teenage years and was trying to get the hang of riding on my own. I used to stay up late, sitting around bonfires with friends, drinking, laughing, flirting… There was no curfew. I seemed to care little about how much sleep I actually got. One summer in particular my friends and I lived by the motto “you can sleep when you’re dead”. I remember several conversations starting with, “…I don’t know, I have to work in the morning and it’s getting late.” Followed up with “you can sleep when you’re dead, Jax!” With that I’d put on my party pants and head out the door. I miss that enthusiastic grasp I had on life. I was too young to care about debt and credit scores and salaries. There was an unspoken feeling that knowing that right now was all that mattered. I used to go rollerblading at midnight on the boardwalk. I’d sit on the beach with friends until 3am watching the stars and pondering where our lives were taking us. I stood with masses of other people, sweat cooling on our clothes while we watched our favorite bands play live right in front of our eyes. I ate appetizer samplers from Perkins at 1am. I’d pick my drunken boyfriend up from the bars at 2am. In the middle of house parties, my friends and I would go to Hardees for greasy burgers and cinnamon rolls the size of our heads. I used to watch the sunrise just as I’d tuck in under my sheets.

Time did its job though and by my mid-twenties responsibilities set in. If I wanted to get by on my own, I had to earn decent money and that meant working a decent job. My 9 to 5 life began and my midnight bonfires faded in their own ashes. I had gotten married and was plunged into a serious lifestyle change. I was home by 5:30, cooking dinner by 6, cleaning up by 7 and in bed by 10 only to get up and be to work by 8 the next morning. My fun summer nights were cooled off by the air conditioning in the apartment I worked my 9 to 5 job to keep.

After my marriage ended, I regressed a bit back into my early twenties mind set. I started dating someone younger and his youthful energy was like a caffeine pill to my life. We’d spend warm summer nights sitting on bar patios drinking beer out of sweating glasses and eating pizza. We’d take walks at midnight with the dog. I was able to let go of my structured life I’d created when I’d gotten married and was able to live again within the moments of life, not worrying so much about the future of things coming.

In my late twenties I had started to figure out a nice work-life balance. Younger guy was gone and I realized I could get the same exciting content feeling sitting on my own deck enjoying a glass of wine with friends as I had used to get drinking $10 bottles of beer on downtown rooftop patios with strangers.

Some of my favorite summer nights were last year actually. I was in a new relationship. New guy and I would sit under the twinkle lights strung up on my patio and share stories of our past. We’d laugh at jokes that are only funny when you’re exhausted. We’d gasp and exclaim excitement when we’d figure out something else we had in common. I’d pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them listening to new guy’s infectious laugh and falling in love with his crooked smile.  I’d tug on the ball of yarn that was this new relationship and watch new guy unravel his life little by little in front of me. They were intimate moments. They were hilarious moments. There was peace in those moments, strong feelings of utter contentment. In those minutes and hours I couldn’t imagine being in a better place in the world.

I sit here now alone on my patio breathing in the cool fresh air thinking of many more summer nights to come. My peacefulness comes from the still air around me and the remembrance of nights warmed by driftwood fires, laughs caused by drunken shenanigans, and nervousness caused by first kisses. And in that same breath my sad nostalgia reminds me that I’ll never hear that infectious laugh again, or look upon that crooked grin. I’ll never experience my first outdoor music concert again or my first summer camping trip again.

I guess this is that place where peace and nostalgia meet. Those moments are gone and all that remains are the remnants in my memory, but memories fade with time and perhaps part of what’s hardest about growing up is not knowing if you’ll ever experience something better than what you just had.

 

EXPECTO PATRONUM

I’m not sure if other people experience this or not, but when I go through a breakup I seem to notice all the “bad” things about myself. My insecurities come streaming out of me like a Dementor sucking out my happiness (I love a good Harry Potter reference). I look at myself in a very unflattering light. I assume that the real reason the relationship didn’t work was probably because of something I did or said or how I acted. I’m too jealous, I’m not pretty enough, I’m not skinny enough… the list goes on and on in my head.

Earlier today I was expressing some of these same sentiments to my cousin. At one point I said “… he probably banged a bunch of chicks that night.” To which my cousin replied “Jacqueline, listen to yourself!” So insecure. That’s when the Dementor picture popped into my head and of course any real Harry Potter fan knows the only way to get rid of Dementors is to cast your Patronus. The Patronus Charm is a charm that “evokes a partially-tangible positive energy force”.  Casting out positive energy drives away the happiness sucking Dementors! Since my Dementors seem to come in the form of negative self-talk, I decided to cast my Patronus (which I think may be in the shape of giraffe or a Direwolf, did I mention I’m now a huge Game of Thrones geek too?!) by listing some of my good qualities. Of course you are all free to add any I missed in the comments section.

So here goes: EXPECTO PATRONUM!

I’m funny – in a sarcastic, dark, somewhat twisted way.

I laugh at my own jokes… a lot.

I make one awesome Pineapple Upside Down Cake.

I’m a good friend and try to always be there when someone needs me.

I am a good mom to my pets. They get lots of love and hugs and kisses.

I have a high pain tolerance.

I am a hardworking employee – at least up until about 4 o’clock.

I have pretty blue eyes and dimples.

I have awesome boobs and a rockin’ butt.

Despite what some may have heard, I’m a pretty darn good girlfriend.

I’m supportive of other people’s dreams and goals.

I’m a good sister and daughter.

I am an excellent reader (have I mentioned the Game of Thrones Series… read the first 3 books in less than 2 months. That’s 3087 pages! That’s about 51 pages a day… and I wasn’t even reading every day! Obsessed!)

I’m extremely loyal and passionate.

I’m a good writer.

I honestly look for the best in people.

I’m an effective communicator.

I can rock jeans and hoodie like no one else.

I’m super good at Boggle (the REAL one, Brooke)

I pride myself on my napping ability.

I have a flat stomach.

I am knowledgeable about many different things.

I can sing really well when I’m intoxicated (I seem to think I can do a lot of things well when I’m intoxicated)

I’m good at yoga.

I have cute feet.

I’m an excellent organizer.

I’m an all-around pretty nice person.

I’m good at parallel parking.

I can grow flowers without killing all of them.

I can find one clean item of clothing in a huge stack of dirty laundry piled on my floor.

I’m a tremendous spooner/cuddler.

I don’t give away the good parts of movies or books (though I’m seriously DYING to talk about the 3^rd 

Game of Throne book with someone!!)

I’m a very loyal Packer football fan, unlike the bandwagon Minnesota fans…

I’m really good at trash talking the Vikings.

I’m not high maintenance when it comes to things like appearance.

I like to save abandoned animals – I almost saved a frog the other day, but I didn’t think he’d get along with my dog and guinea pigs.

I’m good at trivia.

I’m the perfect mix of nerdiness and coolness.

I can appreciate all types of music.

I’m SUPER good at making lists.

I think this is good enough to cast a decent Patronus. It should keep my Dementors away for at least a night or two.

Nox.

Depression: The Middle

I wrote last week about depression, specifically mine and how all-consuming it has been. At my lowest of lows I stay in bed and sleep for the good part of a weekend. I get up to let my dog out and maybe eat something. Then I go back to bed. Initially I turned off my Facebook account because I was upset to see anything relating to the ex-bf. I was too sad to even delete my pictures. Deleting pictures was deleting what we had and I still haven’t been able to admit to myself that we don’t have anything left. In the breakup/grieving process, I’m still in denial and nowhere close to acceptance. Living in denial makes getting over things harder including depression. I should have prefaced that with saying when you have been clinically diagnosed with depression there is no real “getting over it”. You manage depression, just as you manage your weight or diabetes.

How do you manage depression though? I like to mentally compare my depression with my asthma. I take asthma medication every day to assure that I can breathe normally. I avoid allergens that I know will cause a flare up. This doesn’t mean I never have asthma attacks though. Once in a while I’ll be exposed to something that triggers an attack. All I can do then is treat the symptoms until it passes. Clinically diagnosed depression is much the same. You have to manage it daily in order to avoid “flare ups”. This can include medication – as in my case, but it also includes avoiding “triggers” just like with asthma.

Depression triggers can be different for everyone. Some of mine include high stress which leads to severe anxiety, putting myself in situations where I feel out of control and of course emotional distress.  Some more generalized triggers that all people with diagnosed depression should avoid are excessive drinking, recreational drug use, “junk” food… you know, all the stuff we know is bad for us but we do it anyway because we like it. Some depression triggers cannot be avoided, such as the death of someone you love, a divorce or breakup, being diagnosed with a terrible disease, losing your house… every “trigger” is as individual as every different person is.

In this case, my depression was caused by a mix of several of the above. In fact, over the past 6 years I have been diagnosed with MS, gotten divorced, changed jobs, and lost my father. This relationship I was in was the first “serious” one I’d had since my divorce. It was the first one where I really let myself think, “Yeah, I could see myself growing old with him”. So, to lose that on top of all the other things I was dealing with sort of tipped me over, down into my hole. I was also eating poorly, not sleeping well, drinking more frequently and occasionally smoking weed. I was depressions perfect candidate.

You can’t rush yourself through depression. There is not on/off switch or magic pill that will make you feel all better. It’s a cruel waiting game and sometimes I wonder who will win. So how am I getting through this? What makes me actually get out of bed every morning? There are a few things. First, I have animals that depend on me to care for them. Without me, they would literally die. I am such an animal freak that the thought of hurting ANY animal is almost too hard to think about. So I get out of bed each morning (ok, sometimes it’s more like noonish) and let my dog outside and give my guinea pigs treats and give everyone scratches and pets. When I’m most depressed, I get right back into bed, which is ok, because when you’re depressed even doing the littlest things can seem like running a marathon.

I also see a therapist. If I could recommend nothing else to someone who is depressed it would be to get therapy. There are options for everyone no matter what your financial situation, no matter what health insurance you have. There are people who want to help you. I know that therapy tends to come with a stigma. In the past the only people who saw therapists were “crazy” or needed to be in a mental institution. I believe that stigma is changing now.  We are talking a bit more about mental health as a country and how getting treatment at the start of issues can help a great deal more than dealing with it after the issue. My therapist is like my mental mechanic. I check in every couple of weeks to let her know what’s going on. She will look everything over and let me know if there is something I need to be concerned about. She has also given me the tools to deal with my issues on my own, when I’m not with her. Granted, it’s taken years to develop some of those “tools” but it has been time well spent.

I also don’t berate myself or push myself too hard. At first I was disgusted with how I was behaving, sleeping all day, leaving my half eaten food and dirty clothes all over the house. I didn’t have the energy to do anything. I didn’t want to vacuum or do laundry or take out the trash. When I told my therapist about the guilt I was feeling for neglecting my “normal” life responsibilities, she said, and I quote: “Fuck that!” She explained that pushing myself to do things I didn’t want to do was not helping anything. Instead she suggested I do one thing at a time and congratulate myself on accomplishing that one task, instead of beating myself up for not doing the other three. So I took her advice. When I finally felt like getting out of bed, I emptied the dishwasher. That was the only “productive” thing I did at all that day, but I was proud of myself. It was 100% more productive than I had been the day before. Having that tiny bit of self-pride felt amazing. The next day I vacuumed and blogged.

This next part has been the hardest. I’ve been eating better, exercising, limiting my drinking and cutting out recreational drug use. I hate having to watch what I eat. My favorite desserts are red velvet cupcakes and pretty much any flavor of ice cream. I love sweets! I also love carbs, biscuits, bread, muffins… bring ‘em on! I know though the more bad food I eat, the fatter I’m going to get and the more I’m going to hate my body. Hating your body is not the way to go when you’re already depressed. So I started watching my calories again and using the Fitness Pal app on my phone. I have been having delicious green smoothies for breakfast each morning and a big salad for lunch. In this one week, I’ve already lost 4lbs. I don’t feel like I’m depriving myself of anything, I’m just being more diligent. Last night, I was craving ice cream so I went to DQ. I ordered a small blizzard and ended up eating only about ¼ of it. Once I had just a little sweet fix I was ok. I didn’t feel the need to inhale the entire thing. Having self-control is a great feeling, so is seeing your scale move down every day. These little bits of pride keep me going.

Exercising is more challenging. My therapist stressed its importance though. She didn’t even say “stop eating cupcakes” she said “you need to exercise”. Again, I set my limits too high. When I was exercising frequently I was doing yoga 3-4 times a week and cardio in between. My yoga classes were at least an hour long and I could easily do 30 minutes on the treadmill. Now, the thought of an hour doing ANYTHING is exhausting. So, like with my chores I started small. Ten minutes of yoga is better than no minutes of yoga. Ten minutes on the treadmill is better than no minutes on the treadmill. So I’m doing it. I’ve been pushing myself harder than those 10 minutes (because I like to always aim high) but I’m not beating myself up if I don’t reach that goal. The point is, I’m doing it, and it feels good. When I’m exercising I am not thinking about work or laundry or my relationship, I’m thinking about working out. It’s as beneficial for my mind as it is for my body.

Being social when you’re depressed is terrible. As I said a million times, I don’t even get out of bed some days. So you can imagine how much energy it would take to get out of bed, shower, find clean clothes and then go somewhere and interact with people all the while acting like you’re fine. I already do that at work five days a week, by the time my “me time” comes around I don’t want to deal with anyone. I explained this to my therapist who assured me that it’s a normal reaction to depression, and as long as I’m still going to work and semi-functional there is no reason to push myself into going out and being with friends or co-workers. So I haven’t. I don’t answer my phone. I’ve turned off my Facebook (except to post my blog) I seldom answer emails because I don’t have the energy. I don’t want to explain why I’m upset or have to act happy for someone else when I’m honestly not.

I’ve withdrawn. Some people have not been able to understand why, others have let me know that they respect where I’m at, and are always there if I need them. Honestly, and I am not saying this in an unkind way, I didn’t know I had friends like that. Sure I have some great people in my life who are generally supportive, but going through tough times like these are when my real friends have shone through. No one has been pushy saying things like “you should go out, you should start dating again, and you should get back into a hobby”. They have been gentle and subtle. I received emails after I posted my depression blog. A couple I were along the lines of “I feel bad but I’m more writing so you fill me in on the juicy gossip of what happened to you”.  Others though have truly filled me with hope. They wrote to simply tell me they were thinking of me and loved me and if I needed something they were there for me. They didn’t suggest I do something to get over things faster, they offered their support. I had a friend send me flowers to say she loved me and was thinking of me, another sent me a book that she read when she was going through a difficult time. She was careful to point out that she wasn’t trying to compare bad situations or offering something to make it all better; rather it was “hey, this really helped me and maybe it could help you, and I care enough about you to let you know that”. I had someone else show up at my house, buy me dinner and junk food and watch a movie with me.  I’ve gotten support I didn’t know I needed.

Depression makes you feel so lonely. Going through this depression in part because of a breakup was even lonelier. My ex-bf had turned into my best friend. He was the one I shared my good and bad with, the stupid inside jokes. He was the one that hugged me tightest and soothed me. After the breakup I figured I’d lost all that. Turns out I just needed to look other places.

I still miss the ex-bf terribly. I still wish he’d show up at my door with one of those big hugs. Slowly though, I’m realizing that if that never happens (notice I said “if”… remember denial) I truly will be ok. I have enough respect for myself (though it seems buried under mountains of self-rejection sometimes) and the support of amazing friends and family to see that eventually, be it a month or 6 months or a year from now, I’ll be ok.

I know I’m far from being out of my depression hole, but I am seeing bit of myself coming back. I know it will take a lot of time and I’ll probably have setbacks, but the point is I can now see there is an eventually light to this darkness. In some cases it’s come from myself, I’m lighting little candles here and there and in other cases it’s come from my friends, shining their flashlights down on me saying, “we’re still here for you”. Thank you friends and family who continue to support me though this. For anyone going through something similar, or not similar but feeling the same way, please know that it does get better. Please know that there are people in your life that care about you and want to see you happy. Try not to be too hard on yourself, remember that there is no “normal” in life and how you choose to deal with yours should be respected.

If you know someone who may be going through a depression, keep them in your mind and let them know you are thinking of them, that you care. Sometimes in situations like this, your kind words can be the one flashlight letting them know there is light.