The Journey Back to Love: Chapter 2 (Stories)

In 3 days, I’ll have been living in the Philippines for an entire year.  When I made the decision to pack up my entire life into one box and ship it across the world, I thought everything in the universe was in line.   I was going after my dream, I was chasing my heart, I was going to conquer any obstacle that got in my way.

It was official.  I was a success!  How many other people get to travel the world and live out their dreams (quite a lot actually).  I was unstoppable.

Or so I thought.  And twelve months later, I’m just slowly beginning to come out of one of the, if not the most painful year of my life so far.

Looking at it now I can see one very clear lesson that I learned: Stories aren’t always true, especially the ones I’ve created in my head.

Several years ago I mapped out what my life would need to look like in order for me to be a happy, healthy, and successful person.

In this story, I lived in a large modern house that was never dirty.  I had  a brand new car with all the bells and whistles.   I had job that paid at least hundred grand a year.  I traveled the world.  I wore the awesomest clothes and the most fab purses.  My gadgets were all Apple branded and in perfect condition.  I spent my days working in corporate America, setting the standard for women in my field.  My nights were filled with yoga, writing, and cocktails with my closest girlfriends.  I had a perfectly repaired relationship with my parents.  I was dating, but not committed.  My hair was shiny, my eyes were sparkling, and my skin glowing. I was the perfect size, not thin but not too curvy either.  I’d had a boob job and veneers placed on my teeth.   I was well adjusted, never depressed or anxious, never had to burden anyone with emotional issues.  I had it all together.   I was finally lovable and worth something.

Yeah.  I know reading that paragraph, it sounds a bit delusional.  I was joking with some friends the other day that all I’ve ever learned about life, I’ve learned from television.  It was funny at the time, but looking at what I just wrote, it’s hard to decipher if that’s my story or Carrie’s from Sex in the City.

But even now, I still have a hard time not believing it as truth.   I’ve spent the last decade of my life seeking those things.  I was going to show those people who thought I was dumb in high school.  I was going to show those people who that I was nerdy in college.  I was going to show my ex-husband, my ex-lovers, my family, and anyone else who I thought had doubted me.

Look at me! Look at me! I wanted to scream when I moved to the Philippines.  I’m special! I’m amazing! I’m beautiful! I’m successful!

I! AM! WORTHY!

Don’t you wish you could have this life? Here let me show you my perfect house and the maid that irons my underwear.   And this car, it has a television on the dashboard. Oh, that’s my driver, he knows to always drop me off at the door of the mall.

Hong Kong? Been there.  South Korea? Been there.  Tokyo? Been there.  (But let me leave out the part about it only being the airport).

Partying? Hell yeah, I always get the best table and my own personal bodyguard.  (Of course, I work so many hours, that I have the energy to go out about once every 6 months).

It didn’t matter though.  I was living my dream.  I’d made it.  I didn’t have to hate myself anymore, even those deep scars that’d been buried for 30 years.  It was wiped clean.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I’m lucky to be alive right now.  The past 365 days have been filled with one of the darkest depressions of my life.  I had no support system, no internet, and no one except myself to lean on.  I spent everyday of my life alone, except when I was at work, and at work I continually failed in my job.  The few friendships I did have in the Philippines, I self destructed to ensure no one got too close.

I didn’t understand.  How could this be happening? This was my dream.  This is what I wanted. Right?  Now people could love me.  Now I could love myself.  There must be something horribly wrong with me to be depressed when I have it all.   Guilt, shame, blame, hate.  The spiral continued.

It’s only now a year later that I can see that the stories I was telling myself were just that, stories.  Conditions I put on myself to try and barter for self-worth with.

I won’t deny that I love having someone do my laundry, and I love getting eyelash extensions.   But when I look at the whole picture, after having living it for a year, it’s not what I really want for my life.

Now, I’m not sure exactly what I want for my life.  But I want to live it, try it, not be afraid to make some big mistakes.  I don’t regret moving the Philippines, because at least I tried it.  And I’m finally getting over the shame of admitting that it wasn’t the beautiful life I thought it’d be.  I’m lucky to have an amazing network of friends through out the world who when I was in my darkest point a few weeks ago wrapped me  in their love and offered up their couches and hearts.

I’m not sure what happens now. One chapter is coming to an end and I have no plan for the second chapter.  Maybe I’ll become a writer and crash at different friends homes for the next year.  Maybe I’ll continue living in Philippines, move into a condo in the city.  I might end back up in Illinois or Salt Lake or even Texas.  I could end up a barista at Starbucks or a VP for a company.  I don’t know, because at this moment, I still don’t know who I am without the stories.  But, I’m ready to learn.

Return to Love: Chapter #1

It’s been a long time since I blogged anything on my Recovering Self Loather website.  Perhaps it was pride, perhaps it was fear that the next set of uncovering would be even more difficult then the last.  Perhaps it was the thought that it was a book and it was finished, no new chapters allowed.  And to be honest, I think a bit of me thought, hey, I got this all together now, I got this, thanks universe, I’m going to move on, wham bam, thank you ma’am.

Yeah.  That went over well.

For over an entire year I stopped to be truthful to myself, I stopped confronting the areas of my life that needed change, I closed myself off to any kind of healing.  All in the name of “I wrote the book on this shit, I’m done.”

I couldn’t be farther from the truth.  I was really just getting starting.  Like the onion girl, I’d peeled back a bunch of layers, but had stopped before I reached the center. 

I got a big head, I got a promotion, I got the job of a lifetime moving to the Philippines.  I got chances to travel the world.  And yet the more of my dreams that came true, the more I spiraled into shame. The more the old voices started grabbing at my thoughts: “You aren’t worthy of this, you should be shamed to have depression with all you have,  look at all these mistakes you are making, look at the lack of connection in your life.  Look at how much heavier you are then the rest of Asia.”  It went on and on.  The voices started screaming non-stop in my  mind, anxiety overcame.  I couldn’t sleep, or slept to much, forgot to eat for days, didn’t take care of my health, cried myself to sleep most days, and spent exhausting amount of time trying to keep myself from self-harm.

And I told no one.  I stopped posting on Facebook, on my blog, and refused to check my email.  When I did post, I made things seem like I was having the time of my life.  I couldn’t admit that I was spiraling into one of the deepest depressions I’d experienced.  What would everyone think. 

The people who cared about me the most, I cut out of my life.  I didn’t want them to know, the shame was too great.  Plus, it’d be easier if they just left me  alone, for their own good, I wasn’t worthy of their friendship.

It took this last trip home for me to realize the depth of my depression and my inability to see things as they really are.  As Peeta must ask in the last book of the Hunger Games, “you love me, real or not real”.  For two weeks, I had to ask that of my closest friends and accept their answers (which were yes) even though my mind continued to say no.

Somehow with the support and courage of my dearest friends, I was able to sit with myself and take stock of where I really was mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

It all came down to a few areas in my life that needed to be brought into the light.  Where I need to be healed, where I need to allow Grace into.  As Leonard Cohen says “there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in”.

So I’m going to be writing in detail about the following areas in my life.  Letting the cracks break and the light flood through.  To find out if my thinking is “real or not real” and how I can heal. 

• Depression (in a 3rd world and what that implies)

• Shame (and how that made it all worse, anxiety/guilt)

• Avoidance (putting things off, cutting off friendships)

• Acceptance (worthiness, fear of a relationship)

• Failure (how I can’t handle it but also think it’s all I ever be)
• Success (Proving to people, family, friends that I am worth something)
• Circles (Same unhealthy behaviors/reactions over and over again)
• Stories (You have to be thin, you have to be rich, you aren’t good enough)

It’s a lot. But then again it can all be tied back to lack of self-worthy and shame.  I’ve lived the past year hating myself.  I refuse to spend another year doing the same. 

It’s not going to be pretty, but it will be beautiful once I’m done. 

Reality? Relationship? What’s difference ;)

The other day I was very rudely, at least in my opinion, forced out of a false reality I had made for             myself during the past two years. A reality that I didn’t even know I had made for myself until it was taken away from me.

It all started with a bout of insomnia and some what I thought was “harmless” Facebook stalking of my ex-husband at 3 in the morning. He had been on my mind for the past few weeks, I kept wondering how he was doing and I worried that maybe things weren’t well since he was in my thoughts so much. He was even invading my dreams, nothing romantic, but just dreams where he would be living in the apartment above me or dreams where I’d randomly run into on the street corner (impossible things, since we live about 2,000 miles apart). So during those early morning sleepless moments, I figured that I would check his Facebook profile to make sure everything was okay…perhaps I’d even friend request him!

I pulled up his page and the first thing I see are those three words: In A Relationship. My heart dropped into my chest, my breathing quickened, my palms got sweaty. I told myself that it wasn’t for real, I reminded myself that a lot of people change their status just to avoid getting the infamous FB pickups. I quickly scanned his friend’s list and saw a photo of a girl with my ex in the background. I still didn’t think much about it as I clicked on her profile and started to look through some of her other photos. And that’s when I completely lost it, we’re talking lying on the floor sobbing and wailing like a banshee. There were several of those typical self-portrait photos of her and my ex…along with the cutesy captions of “me and my Nathan”. I felt that in moment my whole life had been destroyed. I was crying so hard that I couldn’t catch my breath, to hell with Yoga breathing and calming myself down. I out for the count. In fact, I’m sure if a horror movie director had seen me, I’d been cast as Hollywood’s newest scream queen. I was sure someone had snuck into my bedroom and cut out a piece of my heart.

My thought process went a little like this:

Thought 1: That (insert tirade of vulgar words), I’m going to KILL him. And this girl, who the HELL does she think she is? Does she even know who the F*CK she’s messing with by dating him? I’ll take her down. I’ll take both of them down (insert numerous horror movie quality scenes).

Thought 2: Okay, fine. They can do what they want, but I’ll still make their lives hell. Let’s see if they can survive my wrath. At this point, I thought out several ways to smear her and destroy her life and my ex-husbands life. Little lies that I could tell people about them, manipulations I could use. I was pretty proud of some of the ideas I came up with…so if you need some good revenge ideas, let me know

Thought 3: As the wailing subsided, I looked back at the photos and my next thought was “She’s heavier and uglier than me! I spent 5 years of my life thinking I wasn’t thin enough or beautiful enough for him and he ends up with someone plain?” At this point, I wasn’t as mad at him as I was mad at myself. I was upset that I had spent so many years of life thinking I wasn’t good enough, when in actually, I was always pretty enough and thin enough for him. All those times he told me I was beautiful were true. All those times he told me that he loved just the way I was were true. Even during our most horrible fights he would never tell me that I was ugly or fat, no matter how much I tried to goad him into saying it. Wow. You can love someone who doesn’t look like the cover of a magazine. Yes, you’d think that after writing 20+ chapters of the “Recovering Self Loather” this would have sank in already, but it hadn’t. In fact for the past two years, I’ve been self-sabotaging anyone who’s had an interest in me because I still had this fear that I wasn’t worthy for a person if I didn’t drop 50 pounds or have perfect teeth. And, let’s save the part where I IMMEDIATELY judge her worthiness by her looks for another chapter!

Thought 4: My next thought was again, a tad bit self-centered (amazing how much of my selfishness is shining through during all of this). I found myself angry that he found someone without working through all of his issues and becoming “perfect”. I mean, I spent the last TWO years of my life in Salt Lake City working to change every bad habit, every negative part of myself, working through a zillion issues so that I could finally be a ‘stable grownup’ who was ‘healthy’ enough to be in a relationship. But, he found someone to care for him even though he’s not perfect and still has issues! That’s not right, that’s not fair, and doesn’t he know that you have to have it all together to be in a relationship, geez! How come he gets to be in a relationship and move on when I’ve worked way harder and I’m not in one. This tirade went on for a while, in fact, it still pops back into my head every so often. I know it goes against everything I say I believe, but it seems to be one of those things that my heart knows but my brain does not. There’s still that part of me deep inside that thinks I have to “perfect” in order for someone to love me romantically. When it comes to friends or family, it doesn’t matter, I know they love me unconditionally…but when it comes to a partner, I start telling myself stories.

Thought 5: I think the most surprising thing that came up from all of this was a deep seated fear of abandonment mixed with this fantasy that Nathan was supposed to stay and pine away for me for the rest of his life. It’s what we’re taught as women…from movies to books to music to television…that eventually once we “fix” ourselves or “awaken” ourselves, then Prince Charming will come back from his years of pining away in the forest to reclaim our hearts. Seriously, just turn on any Taylor Swift song and you’ll hear exactly what I’m talking about. In my mind, my ex was my safety net, as long as he didn’t move, as long he was out there lusting for me, then I was safe, because I’d never truly be alone. If I got ready to be in a marriage again or if I couldn’t handle being alone anymore, then I could fall back into his life. I mean he married me, and I was the one who left, and I left to find myself to become a better person, so it’s perfectly fine to expect him to wait patiently for me while I get my shit together. Yeah. Right. Hello, REALITY. Let’s just break that again down: I LEFT him, cut him out of MY life, but he wasn’t supposed to MOVE ON. But the fact he had moved on terrified me. Who was going to save me when I needed saving? Who was going to love me when I needed loving? Who was going fulfill my fantasy of 2.5 children and white picket fence if I ever decided that I wanted that dream? In my head, I was finally completely abandoned.

That thought of abandonment still chills my heart as I type this. It makes my heart beat faster and my breath become shallow. The last 7 days have been filled with nightmares, each of them a different person abandoning me: my father, my husband, my lover. Last night I dreamt that I fell to the floor, grasping onto my ex’s legs, begging him not to leave me, to realize that I’d changed, that I could be a “good wife” now. The night before I dreamed that my father had passed away, leaving me alone in the world. I’m not sure where this fear comes from, but it’s here in full force. But honestly, at this moment, I am not ready to explore the pain and reasons. For now, I’ll keep it in a little cave in my soul until I feel a little less fragile, and when I feel more stable, I’ll bring it out and explore its depths.

Thought 6: My final realization was the story I’d been telling myself. People always ask, “Are you friends with your ex-husband? Has he started dating anyone?” My response was always the same, a self-preserving spiel that I had convinced myself that I believed: “Yep, we’re friends; he’s a great person, just not the right one for me! No, he probably will never date anyone else; he’s just not that type of person to move on…but if he ever does, I’ll be happy for him, because that’s what I want more than anything, for him to be happy.” But yet when he moved on, I wasn’t happy for him because I’d built up a fantasy around the two of us. And I think at one time I needed the fantasy, it was the only way I could survive, process the pain of a broken marriage. But when it was time to let go of it, I couldn’t. I held on to that dream world so tightly that it became my reality. And now, when faced with the truth, it’s shaken me to the core. It’s brought out parts of me that I didn’t think still exists. But it’s also brought some beautiful opportunities for healing an self-exploration. As I told a good friend a few weeks ago, this has been a hard summer, full of pain and growth, but it’s what I needed in my life.

So now, I might not be able to every moment of the day send my ex-husband and his new significant other “light, happiness, and love”….but it is getting easier. I only think about doing bad things to them a few times a day! That’s a great improvement, hahaha. But in all seriousness, I know I’m going to make it through this. And perhaps this was the closure and the awakening I needed to finally allow my own heart to open to my own relationships.

Should I Stay or Should I Go: A lesson of Independence

Hi, my name is Gina, I’m 30-something and I have no clue how to live on my own. Now it’s your turn, let’s make this interactive! Everyone say “Welcome, Gina”.

Don’t let the serious stare fool you!

Okay, phew, glad that’s out of the way. No worries, this isn’t going to transform into a virtual self-help group It’s just that I’ve been pondering a major decision in my life lately, well major for me anyway, I’ve been considering living alone for the first time in my life.

To some people this may not seem like an earth-shaking decision, but for someone like me, a former co-dependant mess, it’s a huge decision. I love coming home and knowing that there is someone waiting there who I can share my day with, who will calm me down when I have a tantrum, who will help me clean my room when I’m drowning in laundry. I love coming home knowing there will be milk in the fridge and bread on counter. Yet, there’s a part of me that says “Gina, you’re in your 30’s, it’s time to “grow up” and get a place of your own. And as much as I adore my roommates, I know that this situation is temporary, that we will each move on to new life experiences and new places to live.

Which brings me to where I am at this moment. I’ve found a great place, a cute one bedroom in a Victorian style home that has been converted into apartments. My best friend Lissy lives in the apartment upstairs, so I would have someone just a flight of stairs away if I needed some kind of support. Yet, I’m wrestling with the entire idea. Do I leave my current situation where I am happy and content in order to explore living on my own? What if I move in on my own and realize I can’t handle being alone and depressions slips in? Can I handle the feeling of coming home to an empty house each evening? I think the biggest fear is “Who will take care of me?”

I am so used to having people in my life take care of me so I don’t have to. My roommates help make sure I eat, that I have clean clothes, that I don’t spend days in bed wallowing in depression, they support me during my bad moods and temper tantrums. Essentially, my roommates make it easy for me not to have to be a stereotypical adult. I can live in my Pisces dreamer head without worrying if I’ve forgotten to turn the stove off, if I’ve forgotten to put gas in my car, if I’ve fallen asleep with the lights on. Living with roommates is an absent minded, codependent person’s dream come true.

So why I am thinking of leaving? I guess it’s because I want to see if I can handle the challenge of living alone. To prove to myself that I am no longer codependent. I’m afraid that this may be my last chance, that I may end up going from having roommates to having a life partner, and if that does happen I don’t want look back on this time and regret that I didn’t live on my own. I also want to see and explore what emotions and feelings come up from living alone, so I can more deeply understand myself. I also want to see how I would keep my own house if it was only for me, what kind of habits/methods would I create to keep myself organized? What things are important to me and what things are not? I just wonder if there is this untapped part of me that I may only be able to connect with by living alone. Everyone takes their own path, whether it be living alone or living with family or with a spouse or with roommates…I need to find out which one is mine.

My great Roomies <3

Of course, I’m scared shitless, which is why I decided to write everything out in this note. When it comes down to it, I’m the only who can make the decision on what I am supposed to. And that is the most difficult thing for me, I like to have other people make the decision for me so that if it doesn’t work out, that mark of “failure” isn’t on my personal record.  I TOLD you I was a recovering codependent loather, haha, why make decisions when I get someone else to make them for me! (Just ask anyone who’s been out to dinner with me, I always refuse to choose the restaurant…though if you make suggestions I don’t like I’ll veto them until you finally pick the place I wanted to go in the first place).

I’ve also noticed that depending on my friend group, there seem to be two varying thoughts about this. I have the friends who went to college, got married right out of college, and never really lived alone, much less ever thought of living alone. Then I have the friends (typically my more urban-based friends) who have entered adulthood in a mixture of roommates and living alone, but mostly living with roommates or significant others.

For me, I’ve been down both paths. I lived on campus during the first part of college, and with roommates during the second part of college. I got married right out of college, moving seamlessly from an apartment with my roommate Rachel to a house with my husband. The idea of living with people I didn’t know or living with a significant other that I wasn’t married to was a completely foreign concept. I would hear stories of a friend of a friend of a friend who found an apartment on Craiglist and I remember wondering “what is this Craiglist they speak of? Living with strangers? Living with a roommate when you’re an adult? Who does things like that?”

Then came the whirlwind story where in a period of two weeks I decided to leave my husband, move to Salt Lake City, and try to find out who I really was (Uhh, you can get caught up on that part of my life by reading my past blog entries). And yes, most people thought I had lost my mind, as good Christian girl, you just didn’t do things like that. Marriage was for life, and if you weren’t happy, then something was wrong with you, some secret sin, some inner fault that would be healed if you prayed, fasted, and went to church enough.

So, on the 15th of May in 2008, I packed up everything I owned and moved in to a house in Salt Lake City with a random male roommate (he had the downstairs basement area, I had the upstairs area). Those first months of life in Salt Lake were heartbreaking, I spent most of my nights crying myself to sleep, certain I had made the wrong decision, that I had wrecked “God’s Plan” for my life. That I was doomed to live a life in sack cloth and ashes, typical dramatic Gina-fashion.

My first home in Salt Lake

My roommate turned out to be very nice and very kind, though I’m sure he thought I was a little crazy because I never really spoke to him or created any kind of friendship with him. I spent almost every hour at home stowed away in my bedroom. I thought that’s how roommates who didn’t know each other should be, just strangers passing in the night.

After about 8 months of living in the suburbs, I realized that as beautiful as it was to live on the base of a mountain (literally the trail up the mountain started in my backyard) my heart longed for the hustle and bustle of city life. I spent most of my nights downtown anyway: doing yoga at Centered City, drinking Chai at Coffee Garden, shopping at the Blue Cockatoo, and watching Sundance movies at the Tower. I knew I was supposed to move down town to the 9th & 9th area, but I wasn’t sure how. How does a person find roommates or an empty apartment in the middle of a city?

I turned to the foreign concept of Craigslist, sent out a few inquires, and a week later I found myself moving into a duplex built in 1919 with two random girls I didn’t really know. Again, I had the same idea that since I was living with strangers, I should spend all my time at home in my room. I didn’t form relationships with them, in fact I was so sure that they didn’t like me, that they thought I was a bad roommate because I sneaked smoking cigarettes out my bedroom window (later I found out they snuck cigarettes too and were worried that I didn‘t like them!). I also struggled with a feeling of shame to be almost 30 and living with roommates. It didn’t matter that most of my urban friends lived this way because it just wasn’t in the worldview of how I was raised. I had always bought into the preconceived notions that by 30, a girl should be settled down with a husband, family, and expensive things, not living in some tiny apartment where there wasn’t even a television. I spent 6 months living like a stranger in my own home, I never unpacked, or hung anything up, I never spoke to my roommates except for the passing “hello” (though to be fair, I was going through Yoga teacher training at the time, and it was rare for me to ever be home before midnight and when I did come home all I wanted to do was hibernate!)

Then in the fall something unexpected happened, one of our roommates moved out and a new one moved in. The dynamic suddenly changed. Jacque, our new roommate made our house feel like a home, she spent time in our living room, she formed bonds with each of us…and somehow the three of us: Jacque, Kim, and I became great friends. We formed our own little community. I cooked dinner, Jacque did the dishes. I would get over-whelmed by my laundry, Jacque and Kim would help me wash and fold it. We’d have late-night grocery trips to Smith’s. And the night my heart thought it was breaking, Jacque stayed up all night with me while I broke down in a panic attack. I’ve loved living with Kim and Jacque the past year, it’s been amazing. I find myself constantly growing and challenged on how to be respectful, on how it feels to care about someone enough to change your habits, and how to let things go that irritate you. Living with my girls has challenged me and brought up areas of needed growth I had been oblivious to. But perhaps there are new lessons to learn…

So now on to the big choice, in the wise words of the Clash: Should I stay or should I go now? We’ll see what my heart ends up deciding <3 because I think I’m FINALLY coming to terms that nothing is ever set in stone, and that whatever decision I make, as long as I lead with my heart and trust my soul, it will be the right one.

MUCH LOVE ♥

To Live Life is to Create a Heart <3

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life and death, health and illness, sorrow and beauty. More specifically, how the past several months my life has been filled with beauty while those around me have been besieged by sorrows. I’ve discovered that one of the most important lessons I’ve learned on this journey of recovering self-loathing is the importance of living.

Yeah, yeah, I know, what you’re thinking: “Umm, Gina, we’re all alive, or else we wouldn’t be reading this damn chapter”. But I don’t believe that’s true. My heart had been beating steadily for almost 30 years before I finally realized that I had never really lived. And now that I am truly alive, I realize how short our time really is on this earth. I think of my dreams, my hopes, my goals, all the things I want to do….how do I pack every whim of my heart into a mere 100 years? There so much to explore, so much to feel, and yes, so much to lose. I don’t want a waste a moment. I want to feel every feeling, chase every love, and somehow find the strength to brave every sorrow.

This past week my father was found to be cancer free while at the same time my former mother-in-law passed away at the young age of 59. My feelings were conflicted. I was happy for my family but yet I felt guilt that my father was spared while a mother was taken. Another friend of mine lost a coworker to suicide this past week. I was sitting in the airport when I heard the news and my heart broke. Instantly all the times and years I spent trying to take my own life flashed through my mind. It was sheer luck or fate that every attempt to take my own life was unsuccessful. Yet, here was this man, who’s story I don’t know, who tried and succeeded. The sorrow was overwhelming. Again, the confliction arose, heartbreak for this man and his family, but yet gratitude that my own life had been spared so many times. I was almost brought to my knees by the revelation of how precious and fragile life is. Yet, through both of these tragic deaths, my life, and so many others have been dramatically changed and impacted. Even from beyond the grave, their lives are making a difference.

There have been times while talking with friends that I’ve asked the question of why I am still here, still alive. Why is one heart spared and another taken. Most of the time people tell me “your purpose isn’t fulfilled yet”. I’m sorry, but I don’t buy that answer. Yes, I think there are many things that I can accomplish with my life, but I can’t believe that every person taken to soon has “fulfilled” their purpose. Yet, I don’t have any other answer. So instead I’ve decided to stop asking the question, and instead choose to embrace every moment I do have. I don’t want to waste any more time wondering why I’m here, I want to be filled with gratitude that I am here, and do the best to make a difference with the seconds I have left.

But what about those who close to me who are dealing with sorrow and grief. It makes me wish I had the superpower to touch people and heal their pain, or perhaps just ease it for a few moments. When I hear of suffering, my first response is to wish I could wrap my arms around the world. But, lately, I’ve been taking a step back and looking through things with a different type of sight. Every person close to me who has suffered a great grief has been transformed by it, and most of the time, the end result has been an ever deeper beauty, a stronger compassion, a new wisdom. The transformations have been sometimes gruesome and horrific…to see someone stripped of all their defenses, to be broken to the core. I used to think “let that be, I’ll take it on for them, it’s not fair that they have suffered this loss and not me”. But, what good would that do? It would just be my martyr complex coming into play again. So instead I will come beside them and help support them when they are too weary to go on. I will love, listen, and be there as the tears fall. I will send prayers of peace and wrap my arms around their body and soul to let them know they are not alone in the darkness.

The truth is that while at this point in my life, I’ve been able to escape the roulette wheel of deep grief, someday it will be my turn. Someday it will be me sobbing on my knees in the middle of a room, crying out to every deity to take away my pain, to turn my ashes into peace, my mourning into joy. When that happens, I’m sure every cell and thought will be one of escape, I’ll strive to find anyone to take away the pain, to find some repose. But, my hope is that when that time comes, some deeply buried part of me will somehow remember these thoughts that I forming into words. That I will endure the horrific grief and come out transformed.

I think that growth has perhaps even already started. When my former mother-in-law entered ICU this past December, I was wracked with guilt. All I could think was how horrible I had been to her, every mean word I said, every regret came to surface. But somewhere in the past few months, I realized that it’s not about me, it’s about her and her family who are going through the pain of her passing. When she did pass, instead of being consumed by own regrets, I found soul quietly sending peace to my ex-husband and his family. Life comes, life goes, there is nothing we can do to change what will happen. There was only two options, she was going to survive or she was going to pass. And she passed.

I used to tell myself that once my parents passed away, I would end my life. That there was no way I could live on this earth without them. But when we got the call two weeks ago that my dad may have cancer, I was filled with peace. I sank to my knees, cried, and then I rose back up. If my dad had cancer, there would be nothing I could do to change those facts. I couldn’t come up with the cure, I couldn’t take it away, I couldn’t heal him, and no matter how much I shouted to heaven, I’d never find out the why. But, there was still so much I could do. If the results had came back positive, I would have quit my job and moved back home, I would have spent the last few months of his life by his side.

It also made me step-back and take inventory of my life. Are there people in my life who I love but whom I don’t say the words enough to? If those closest to me passed, would they pass knowing that they were loved, cherished, and adored by me? I realized I need to say the words “I love you” more, even when my heart may be fearful of the vulnerability. I need to spend time with those near to me. I need to listen to the voice of my soul and prioritize my life to incorporate the most important things to me, and perhaps leave some dreams to my next lifetime. During this life time, I am going to take more chances with my heart, I am going to listen more and offer advice less. Instead of wanting to take away pain, I’m going to walk side by side with my friends in the valley of sorrows. I am going to continue to grow and learn to love without condition.

I want to share some quotes that have been rumbling in my head/soul/heart during this processing:

“I was born to love, I’m going to learn to love without fear. Pour me a glass of wine, talk deep into the night, who knows what we’ll find: Intuition, déjà vu, secret fears, the supernatural, the Holy Ghost haunting you. Whatever you got, I don’t mind. I see redemption in everyone.” – Over the Rhine

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.” – Neil Gaiman

“You can’t judge the love by the lover or the sky by its thunder. You can’t make the snow fall in summer or make him not want her. The sun may come up and go down again, but I’ll still swear it’s a beautiful life. Live like there won’t be tomorrow, see through your sorrow, see through your own eyes. Try to remember the…se days down the road, try to remember this time.” -Charlotte Martin

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

– Jelaluddin Rumi,

Celebrating Birthmonth with a spirit of Renewal, Rebirth, and Rededication ♥

Happy Birthmonth to me! Happy Birthmonth to me!!! Happy Birthmonth to me!!!!!!!!

February is the first of month of winter where I actually feel I can make it to spring. November is usually filled with too much Turkey and depression. December is filled with too much drama and holiday stress. January is just gloomy, cold, and full of pollution (if you live in Salt Lake).

Then February comes, and while February used to be a month filled of awful memories. In the past few years it has taken on a new meaning. No longer is it the month where I relive past hurts, depressions, or failures. It is no longer the month where I dread my birthday because I feel that I didn’t deserve to live another year. It is now the time where I celebrate my entire birthmonth, giving thanks for being alive. It is the time where I start to usher in the early spring. And this time, it is the month where I bring renewal, rebirth, and rededication into my life.

I’m casting off the slumber of winter, both physically and mentally. It’s time to prepare myself for impending joys of spring and summer, to ready myself to be one with nature when the chances arrive.

For entire month of February, I plan to do a set of Sun Salutations that correspond with the number of days in the month. Yesterday was the 1st of February, so I did one Sun Salutation (slightly drunk, sliding on my wood floor, 30 minutes before midnight). Today, being the 2nd of February, I shall do two Sun Salutations. And on the final day of February, I’ll do 28 beautiful Sun Salutations. At first, the competitive part of me thought: You can totally do more then 1 or 2 Sun Salutations, why start off so slow…but isn’t that how one comes out of a period of hibernation…slowly, surely, tentatively.

“The promises of the return of the light and the renewal of life which were made at the winter solstice are now becoming manifest. It’s the dawn of the year. It’s the time when a woman who is pregnant begins showing. It’s time to creep out of the hibernation of winter, cautiously…” -Waverly Fitzgerald.

My body is craving to become strong again, to find it’s place among the tall, proud trees that will soon start to bud. I release any regrets I have for perhaps taking to deep of a winter slumber, what is done is done. I’m ready to start afresh with a spirit full of confidence. Thank you Winter, for keeping me safe and secured when the light was scarce. Thank you, early Spring for awakening my soul from slumber.

If any of my dear Yoga friends would like to join me in my month of Sun Salutations, I would love the company and accountability <3 Each day after my Salutations, I plan on posting a few sentences/words/poetry/thoughts as a record of connecting my body, mind, and soul.

Namaste.

The Curse of Triple D’s: Depression, Drama, and Defenses (Part II)

I’m finally sitting down to tackle the second of my triple D’s: The dreaded D for Drama.

I’m a drama queen, I fully accept it. Most of the time it’s all in good fun, part of my vivacious personality. I have no qualms dancing in the snow wearing flip-flops in the middle of the night or baking cupcakes to pass out to strangers on the street. I like to make life fun and exciting and unusual. This Christmas I wore light-up Reindeer ears on my flight home. I told the children I was one of Santa’s Elf and I was looking for my Rudolph. That to me is the good kind of drama. Drama can be defined as something highly emotional or “any situation or series of events having vivid, emotional, conflicting, or striking interest or results”. And I’m sure that my Reindeers ears provided striking interest!

Unfortunately, I also thrive off the not so good type of drama. Perhaps not to the level of Jerry Springer, “Who’s the Daddy”, type drama. But I do have this idea that I need some type of negative stress or drama. In my life I have had my share of hardships that have taken their toll on me. I’m so used to negative stressors, that when my life is void of them I find ways to create them. I’ve been conditioned through the years that life is supposed to be difficult and hard, if it’s not, something must be wrong.

I didn’t realize that I even thought this way until my friend, (and wonderful hairdresser) Daisy, called me out about it. This past July, I was planning to move back home to Chicago, yet I didn’t want to move home. The thought of moving back made me feel like I was dying inside. I loved my life here in Salt Lake so much, it is truly amazing, but I figured I really wouldn’t become a recovered self loather until I moved back home and faced my misery. I told Daisy how I was going home so I could grow, that life in Salt Lake was too easy, that I needed a challenge, I needed to face more pain in order to heal. I went on and on. Daisy stood there patiently listening to me. Finally when I stopped rambling, she caught my eye in the salon mirror and said “Honey, you don’t have move back home and be miserable to grow. You have a great life here, people who support you, that’s not a negative thing. There are always areas for growth, wherever you are, there is nothing wrong with being where you are happy” (This is the same woman who also told me never to let self-confidence get in the way of trying anything and two minutes later I was upside down in a full yoga handstand). When she first said those words to me, I was a bit annoyed. How dare she tell me I don’t need to be miserable to grow! I had my martyr complex firmly in place. She doesn’t know my history, she doesn’t know all the things I need to pay penance for! My mind continued to rebel against her words, but my heart already knew them as truth. I ended up not moving back home, it was hard decision to make, but by far the best one I have made in my life. Salt Lake is where my heart belongs at this moment, a place where I grow through healthy challenges instead of dysfunctional challenges.

Yet, even in this wonderful, healthy, beautiful city, I struggled with feeling empty without the negative drama/pain/stress. I looked for ways that I could manifest the drama in my life, I didn’t understand how to feel whole without it. I thought that I had to fill that drama-rama hole with something or else I’d never grow or heal. It seems silly now, to think that if your life is happy that you need to make it worse in order to be a “good” person. But I had been firmly conditioned to think that way. I started to find ways that I could self-destruct and add this negative drama to my life. The two main ways it manifested was in paying bills and in my job performance (which I guess is an improvement from the hurtful, gossip, manipulation type drama I used to thrive on!).

In the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You”, Jason Long tells the female lead that she is addicted to drama, she of course denies this claim until he asks if she waits to last minute to pay her bills just because likes the feeling of stress it brings her. She realizes it’s true, she’s addicted to the drama. I am the same way. My cell phone bill is due the 21st of every month. It’s been due that day for almost two years. I don’t think I’ve once paid it on time. I wait until the 24th of the month when they suspend my service for late payment, then I finally pull out the credit card and pay it online. The same with rent, heaven forbid I pay on the 1st of the month, I always wait till the around the 7th or 8th, sometimes longer. I have the money to pay it, I even have the envelope stamped and ready to send, but I just don’t. I don’t pay these bills on time because by not doing these things I feel guilty, stressed, and self-loathing. Ironic, I’m finally at a place in my life where I have to try and find things in order not to feel good about myself. Another way the negative drama manifests in my life is with my job. I’m always sliding into work right on time, never even a minute early. I lay in bed until the last possible second and then I’m a wreck trying to get to work on time. If I feel like if I am not doing good at my job, then it’s another way to fill empty drama void.

Recognizing these patterns is huge progress. Now when I start to self-destruct, I can at least take a step back and see it’s because of my bad choices instead of blaming someone else. Yet, I’m still not at the point where I’m making the right choices. Even today I could make a list of several things that I did to purposely add stress to my life. Then when the drama/stress gets to be too much, I shutdown and start to avoid. So I purposely make a mess and then don’t have the courage to fix it. I do not want to keep living like this. If I don’t get a handle on this need for drama it will cost me financially, whether from over-due fines or something even worse like losing my job. I’m not sure how someone heals from this need for drama. Do you channel it into a motivator? Do you acknowledge the emptiness but don’t try to fill it? Do you slowly start to recondition yourself that it’s okay to live a life free of guilt, drama and pain? Do you ask others to hold you accountable when they see this behavior manifest in your life? Do you create more “healthy” drama? I don’t have the answer yet. I’m going to try a few of the methods above and see what works. I’m sure that I will find the right way for me to over-come this issue.

All I know is I am ready to change this pattern, this need for drama in my life! I’m making space in my mind/body/soul to heal even deeper. To become the best me I can be <3 I am at the point in my life now where I don’t even think of myself as a self-loather anymore. I’m more of a beautiful, eternal mess. The sparkly, shiny, colorful mess that comes from heaps of confetti throw into the air or the vibrant, fun mess that comes from a day of finger painting or baking or jumping in mud puddle. I’m transforming every day into the me that lives in depths of my soul and chambers of my heart.

The next D that I plan to tackle? Defenses. Because you know, I NEVER get defensive…

The Curse of Triple D’s: Depression, Drama, and Defenses (Part I)

Now, while some days I do wish that I had some triple D’s…I’m going a little deeper then bra size. November has been a month filled with constant nightmares, lack of sunshine, and a fear in my tummy that a bout of depression was rolling in. In the early fall months, I had came to a plateau where I realized that being a self loather no longer defined who I am, that through the journey, I had became so much more. It was a beautiful feeling. Fall leaves fell and I found myself falling in love more and more. Then the time change came, the days grew shorter, the winds colder, and my heart became heavier. It all seemed to revolve around three major “D’s”: Depression, Drama, and Defenses.

I’ve suffered from depression since I was a pre-teen. I remember being 11 or 12 years old, sitting in my locked bedroom with a razor blade or a bottle of pills trying to find the “courage” to end my life. I felt like a failure because I was too afraid to take my own life. High School was the same, I’d be able to hold it together for a while, then the familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach would take over. I’d miss days of school and when I did make it, I’d spend most of the time in the counselor’s office trying in vain not to harm myself. Then college came, and depression morphed into eating disorders and sleepless nights. The only thing that kept me sane was editing our college paper, at the end it still wasn’t enough, I self-destructed. After college came marriage, and we all know how that worked out. The first 6 months of my marriage, I was too depressed to even work, my job sent me out on disability and my doctor’s kept me tranquilized with a plethora of pills. By that time the depression had morphed into severe anxiety. I couldn’t shower/eat/or get out of bed. My husband lived in fear that I would take my life while he was at work so my mother would keep watch of me during the days. Nathan would spend hours holding me as I tried to cut my body into shreds and he’d spoon food into my body when I refused to eat for days. He always had hope that I would learn to not hate myself, but I fought him tooth and nail trying to prove he was wrong. Then the strokes came, by then I had given up completely. I was too tired to even harm myself, I just did whatever I could to push my body to the limit, hoping the next clot would be the one that would take my life. That about sums up my life till about two years ago.

Depression takes everything out of you. I couldn’t see past the shame and the over-whelming feelings of unworthiness. Your eyes may be open but all they see are black. There is no hope, no past/present/future, only endless feelings of sorrow. I was drowning for years in pit of black tar. I’d come up for air, only to fall back down. Even now my body, my skin, my liver bears the marks of years of trying to harm myself. I am so grateful for the amazing people in life that helped me stay alive during over 15 years of on again/off again blackness. There has always been a higher power watching over me, even in my darkest times I could feel it just enough to be able hold on. Looking back now, I can truly say that I have been blessed.

It was this past history that triggered such a deep seeded fear in me this past month. The time changed and I felt darkness start to cover me, literally and figuratively. I no longer had the desire to be a “Salt City Socialite”, it was hard enough to just make it to work in the mornings, I was constantly exhausted. I began to have nightmares, strings of horrific images that would haunt me through the day. I couldn’t stop crying and my heart felt so very heavy. I was depleted, and even worse, the “feeling” was starting to creep back into my stomach. Yet, this time the feeling was different, odd, as though I knew it no longer belonged. I was able to see that I still loved myself, loved life, loved my amazing friends, but I couldn’t shake this feeling of isolation and sadness. In the past being depressed always was equated with hating myself and thinking I wasn’t worthy. Yet here I was, knowing my self-worth and yet still struggling with these sad feelings. I have to admit, I was terrified. I never want to have depression again, I struggled with that for so many years, that is not a place I ever want to go back to. Perhaps it’s foolish to think that once you love yourself and your life that depression would never come back. I felt like isolating myself, I even refused to turn on my phone for several days. I felt alone even though anyone looking would think that was ridiculous with the tribe of people who support me.

I could go on and on about the things that triggered this case of the blues: fears of the Holidays, fears of seeing my family, financial fears, even fears that I may never find another long-term relationship. Then I realized something that helped me swing things back around: Depression may still rear it’s ugly head, but I am strong enough and self-aware to know how to handle it. I have learned positive coping skills (finally!). I know when to seek out help, and above all, I know that there is always hope. I am different, for the better. This past year hasn’t just been a superficial change like I sometimes fear, but a change that has effected all areas of my life, including my battle with depression. I am reminded that without the dark, there is no light. The tougher times can inspire growth and help us be more appreciative of the easier times.

When did I realize that I was going to make it out of this round of moody November blues? I knew I was going to be okay when I went to cancel my Facebook and realized that no matter how blue I was feeling, I was not going to cut everyone out of my life as I had in the past. I was going to be authentic, post that I was going through a rough time, and allow myself to be held by the amazing support network I have. If I’ve learned one thing this past year is that emotions are never permanent and can easily be skewed, things always look different by sunlight.

Just in the past few days, after writing down my fears, I’ve started to feel better. I may not be as an active “socialite” as I usually am these next few months, but it’s winter, it’s a good time to hibernate and work on other things in my life. To focus on myself and my growth more. To be honest, I am truly more of an introvert then I am an extrovert, I need time alone to process. So in a way, I’m grateful for this rough month, because it helped me see the areas where I need to take better care of myself. It’s also helped me see that there has been a real change in me from the inside out. I am no longer the shell of a person that I used to be. I am strong, courageous, and ready.

…

To be continued with the second “D”: Drama (Oh yes, get ready, it should be a good one)

I was born to LOVE

Once again it’s been a while since I’ve written. This time it hasn’t because I’ve been secretly loathing, it’s because my life has been so full that it’s taken some real strength to get the self-discipline to sit down and write.

It’s been a year since I started this journey of becoming a Recovering Self Loather, and it has been such a beautiful journey. I cannot believe how blessed, loved, and supported I’ve been during every step of this path. Thank you. I truly feel like I have a wonderful community of people cheering me on as I learn to live and love and celebrate life. It takes a village to raise a child, and entire world to recover a self loather!

Lately I have been thinking a lot about relationships. Writing the chapter an “Ode to a Love Lost” was the first step in my healing from the ending of my marriage and the beginning of my start to realize that there may be other loves out there. Then during the last several months, I’ve been putting practice what I processed.

I finally believe that I’m in a place in my life where I’m ready for love! What a beautiful place to be, to finally know that my heart has made space for a new season in my life. We can love more then one person, and we can love people in many different ways, for many different reasons, for many different seasons. Nathan was one season of my life, and while I will always hold a part of him in my heart, it’s no longer my entire heart…maybe someday we’ll have another season together, who knows.

My attitude towards people has changed as well. I feel free to just be myself. I’m a flirt, anyone who has spent anytime with me knows that! I don’t flirt to get the attention of people or to get some action, I’m just a friendly person and it’s who I am. Okay, I guess I should be honest here and admit that I do know the power of my smile and personality to get me discounts at the grocery store or restaurant but hey, that’s the way God made me, I can’t help it *bats eyes*. For a while I tried to tame down my flirting, I didn’t want to give people the wrong signals or worse yet, have someone really become interested me! Heaven forbid someone like me, it would totally be time for me to implement self-destruct mode. Plus there was also always this script in the back my head, even though I was confident and secure in my body/looks/personality, I still had this belief somewhere hidden deep that I wasn’t attractive enough for someone to like me. I knew it wasn’t true, I didn’t believe it, but it would randomly pop up and try to make me insecure. It was similar to using Firefox and IE at the same time. You know Firefox is the best program, but for some reason you keep going back to IE for one or two websites even though it just kept crashing because you already had Firefox going. That’s how it’s been for me when it comes to dating. I felt open and ready for love, but a part of me still wanted to be the same insecure girl I had been for so many years because it what was familiar.

I took a new approach, instead of trying to make people and relationships fit my mold, I decided to take a step back and let the universe bring the right fits into my life. I also opened up myself to the idea that not all relationships have to be a great love affair…some can last for a night, for a week, for a few dates, for a few months, for years, or maybe for a lifetime. Every relationship plays a different part, it has a different reason. My marriage to Nathan showed me that I can be unconditionally loved in a relationship, my next relationship after my marriage showed me it was okay to love myself unconditionally…and it goes on and on. As Leonard Cohen says “there are so many people you just had to meet without your clothes” (uhh, okay maybe that not the best example, but you get the idea).

I also have this fear of outgrowing a relationship. I worry that perhaps I’ll never find the person who will grow with me, that I’m destined to continually grow up and out of long term relationships. But, that’s another fear I’ve decided not to give credit to anymore. Sure, perhaps there will be relationships where I will outgrow the person, or maybe they’ll even outgrow me (though with my amazingness, that seems doubtful, oh, the pressure of being Saint Gina!). It’s part of life, enjoy the relationships for the growth they gave and be thankful that they have fallen way to make space for the next one. I’ve found when I take a step back and look at relationships in that perspective, it helps free up any guilt that I have put on myself. Why should a person ever feel guilty about growth? In fact, if anything, I’m eternally grateful to these relationships who have helped me become a more authentic person.

Something else I’m am finally at peace with is the fact that for the first time in my life, I feel that I’d be okay with being a mother someday. After my divorce, I figured I’d never get serious with someone again…and I have never (ever) had a maternal instinct. Now I feel like I would be an awesome mother. I think that I am finally mature enough to handle the idea of a little mini Princess (or Prince) Gina. (I still have a bit of inner-conflict about giving birth when the world is so over-populated already with children that need homes). Still, it’s just nice to come to terms with that aspect of my life. I used to be someone who (and I’m not proud to say this) had a lot of disdain for mothers, I thought that it was weak to give up part of your life/career/freedom to bring a child into an already messed up world. I thought it was hurting the cause of feminism to give up pursing a career for the sake of being a mother, now I see that being a mother for some people is the career they were meant to have. Will it ever be the full time career for me, who knows. All I know is that I have respect for that path and I no longer judge.

So here I am! Happy, Flirty, Excited and GUILT FREE. Wooohooo! (This may call for an official Gina “booty shake”). I’m ready for whatever relationships come my way (or don’t come my way). During this journey I’ve realized a few other key things about myself: The truth is I am very content being where I am, as a single woman entering her 30’s. I’ve never been the type of girl to pine away for a relationship, I go out, live life, and if someone crosses my path, great, but if not, I am entirely complete on my own. Secondly, for me, I like my longer term relationships to start as strong friendships first (yep, I’m old fashioned, who’d of known!) and then develop into whatever they are meant to be. Third, I love having male friends, I’m totally that girl who will go out for coffee, wine, dinner, a movie…I never think of someone in the terms of gender, I just see them as someone I want to hang out with. If it ends up with chemistry or kissing or a roll in the hay, so be it, it’s life it’s meant to be lived without boundaries. It’s all about living life and seeing where each new adventure takes me.

I don’t have to worry when, where, or who I’ll fall in love with, because that’s part of the fun. The right person(s) are out there, in fact sometime I can feel his/her/their energy beating in the fabric of this earth. I have this theory, a person can be 95% perfect for you and it can work, but sometimes a person can be 95% perfect for you but it will never work. It all depends what that 5% holds, it’s those 5 small percents that decide if it’s make or break. I think a lot of times we see that 95% and think “this must be it, I have to make it fit somehow”…yet getting that 5% to fit the mold is like trying to force triangle into a circle hole, some part is going to end up cracked and shattered. Then there are the times were we see the 95% and think “but it’s not a 100%, shouldn’t it be a 100%?”…yet that extra 5% is more like extra sprinkles on your favorite cupcake…something that in the end will make the love sweeter and turn into a 100%. It’s all about listening to your heart/soul and being truthful with yourself about which extra 5% it really is (the being truthful with yourself has always been the hardest part for me, I desperately want to change the triangle into sprinkles). It can all be summed up perfectly in this quote that my dear friend Dana shared with me “He loved her for almost everything she was & she decided that was enough to let him stay for a very long time”-Brian Andreas

I’ve realized that I’m pretty enchanting; I’m full of love and laughter and my share of neurosis…and it all shapes me into the this amazing ball of energy/soul/heart that will connect with the right people at the right time. Sounds good to me.

This is my prayer/hope/wish for all of you:

Born by Over the Rhine
I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I’m gonna learn to love without fear
Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we’ll find
Intuition, deja vu
The Holy Ghost haunting you
Whatever you got
I don’t mind
Put your elbows on the table
I’ll listen long as I am able
There’s nowhere I’d rather be
Secret fears, the supernatural
Thank God for this new laughter
Thank God the joke’s on me
We’ve seen the landfill rainbow
We’ve seen the junkyard of love
Baby it’s no place for you and me
I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I’m gonna learn to love without fear

Let the Lightning Strike!

Lately a lot of people of been asking me the question “what made you decide to stop hating yourself?”

Wow, what a loaded question, because for years I didn’t even realize I was loathing myself….I thought that it was normal to not like yourself and to focus on your faults. I had instilled the belief so deep in me that I was bad and unworthy of love that I was unable to see any other options. And where I am now, it’s hard for me to look back and remember how much I did hate myself. It’s really all kind of hazy (okay, that may be due to my horrible short term memory or the fact I drank a little too much last night…your pick). Anyway, I spent some time last weekend reading through my old journals for the past 10 years and was simply amazed by how hard I was on myself. I held myself to these extreme expectations because I thought it was the only way people would love me. If I wasn’t perfect (uhhh, which I never will be since I’m this thing called human), then that meant that nobody could love me and I was failure.

I remember when I was in college, I had this intense dream where I was in my body but something had covered up my eyes from the inside so that I couldn’t see myself that way I really was, only through this view that was full of ugliness and hatred. That image really helps relate to how I was just a few short months ago, I was a blind person who’s view of themselves and what others thought about them was completely skewed . In the dream, I fought and fought to remove the hands, but my fight was in vain, my attacks did no damage except to make the blindness even more firmly rooted. Unlike real life, in the nightmare, I was never able to see clearly again.

Throughout my life many people close to me saw these destructive patterns and tried to help me. I can’t even remember all the countless friends in the past 30 years who have tried over and over again to help me see myself how they saw me. Even Nathan tried for 5 long, tough years to help me realize that he loved me and that I was worthy of love. Nothing stuck. I’d go church faithfully and throw myself on the altar, time and time again. Thinking that maybe “this time” I’d finally be perfect and not a failure, because then I’d be able to love myself. I couldn’t even see that I was seeking the wrong answers, crying out for the wrong transformations. I spent so many nights crying about how I “just wanted to love” but never did I think that I had to love myself first.

After I had my first stroke, I finally gave up completely. I figured I was a hopeless cause and that I was going to die soon anyway, so what was the point. I spent a year wallowing in depression, self-destructing my marriage and friendships, doing whatever I could to ensure that no one would care about me when I finally passed away. Even writing this note, I feel a sense of icky-ness revisiting those old memories. I was truly a dead (wo)man walking. I spent my days spending insane amounts of money on clothing, alcohol, and anything else that would take my mind off of thinking how horrible of a person I was. Yet, I was still blind, all I knew is that I hated myself and didn’t want to bring anyone down with me. I had such a heart in me that wanted to love but like the Grinch, I pretended it had shrunk two sizes two small.

Life went on like that for a long while. It was only years, but to me it felt like centuries.

Then one day, I decided that I couldn’t handle being a housewife for one more moment, and I went looking for a job. Little did I know that this job would help change my life. If years of praying, fasting, crying, screaming, journaling, running away, and reading every self-help book available didn’t help…why would I ever think that something like a job would wake me up. Yet, it did.

I won’t bore you with the details of my job, it was more about the people. For once I had a group of people who completely believed in my ability to be a success, no hesitation. It was amazing, I felt like I could really make a difference in people’s lives. I believed in them, and they believed in me. Of course, being the self loather I was, I set myself up to think that they would only believe in me if I was a workaholic. All I did was work, I’d stay 24 hours straight because it was the only place I had this tiny glimmer of hope that maybe I wasn’t a complete failure. Something was awakening, but I still wasn’t completely on the right track.

Then I met a person who little did I know, was going to become one of my closest life friends. I’m not sure why or really even sure how exactly it happened, but he became the catalyst for change in my life. Funny, so many people had came in and out my life but he was finally the one who got through to me. I still stuns me how life can work that way….we can just be living in our little worlds of self loathing for years and years, then, bam, something changes. No rhyme or reason, but finally the prayer is answered. That gives me faith. Faith that everyone can learn to love and accept themselves, no strings attached. What a beautiful realization that is. And that any of us can be the random catalyst in someone’s life, maybe without ever even knowing it, so powerful and humbling.

Okay, okay, I got sidetracked a little bit there. On to how a wonderful friend helped me start on this journey. Enter me into this friendship: self loather, angry, bitter, workaholic, self-destructor, untrusting (especially of men), and without any dreams/goals/hope. I was a real gem (well, really, I was, I just didn’t see it, haha). I was pretty much in shock when we became friends. Plus, I was more then a little wary because I felt instantly connected to this person and very quickly started trusting him with my imperfections. Basically, he scared the shit out of me. A person who knew my faults and for some reason I wasn’t able to push away? Uhh. Someone better call in the local Priest, this was a bonafied miracle! For some reason he was able to see past all my walls and layers and see me for who I could become. People had done that before, but I was never able to accept it. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was the connection, maybe it was God’s tangible answer to prayer, whatever it was, I will be eternally grateful.

My BFF had (and still has) the ability to help me make sense of my jumbled, over-analyzed thoughts to see the real truth and the real me. He was the first one to point out that I was a workaholic and trying to find value in that, he was the one who after I spent a week in the hospital made me realize my health was more important then a job, he was the one who very bluntly told me that I needed to stop running away from all my dreams and hopes, he was the one who challenged me to get back to Yoga, the one who advised me to start letting friends back in my life…etcetera. For almost a year and half, it was his constant pushing me to grow that helped me finally realize that I am valuable and worthy of love.

I can remember the exact conversation where the light bulb finally came on. I was crying and pouring my heart out about how horrible I am, what a mistake it was for me to move to Salt Lake, how all I did was ruin lives. The same drivel that I had been spewing during our entire friendship. I was waiting for his encouragement, for him to tell me how great I was, what a change I was going to make in the world. So was I surprised when he told me that I was being a self loather and how hard it was for him to keep hearing my same story over and over. He said “how would you feel if for years you kept telling me how wonderful I was and every time I’d tell you that I didn’t believe you, or I didn’t trust you. It would finally get old, wouldn’t it? I don’t know what else to do to help you stop loathing yourself”.

And just like that, the lightening bolt struck. Wow, I did loath my self, I did spend all my time thinking I deserve bad things because I had this belief that I was an “inherently bad” person. Everything he had been saying for the last year and a half became clear. I realized that I didn’t know how to love myself and that I had to start with loving myself first. And in that moment, the Recovering Self Loather was born.

It’s been a long (and on-going journey). While the lighting bolt may have lit up the path, I still had (and have) to choose to walk it on my own. This is now the 19th chapter of my journey and I’m sure there will be many, many more. Because like I learned in Chapter 5, the journey is life, so I better enjoy it instead of trying to wait until I’m a “full recovered” self loather. Just like in any recovery program (drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, etcetera), it’s a life long commitment….there will be periods of growth, periods of relapse, and periods of just being. I’ll never be fully “recovered”, and that’s no longer the goal. The goal is to live life, to feel, to love myself and others, and to continue to grow and learn and be challenged.

I am so grateful for everyone who has been part of this journey with me. Yes, it was my BFF that spurred the lighting moment, but it was also the years of friends/family in my life who planted the seeds. And it’s all the friends/family in my life now who still help grow and cultivate the seeds. There are so many of you who will never know the impact you’ve made in my life, I wish I had time to sit down and thank each one of you, but it would be an over-whelming task and I’m sure I’d miss someone!

But, know it’s possible that you are changing people’s lives without even knowing it. And know it’s possible to really start seeing yourself for the valuable, beautiful human being you are (even if your shaking your head reading this and making up excuses on why you aren’t). We always assume we know how other people view us, but we really don’t have a clue. Or we think that since we view ourselves badly, then we need to make sure everyone else does as well. Think of all the people in your life that you love even though they make mistakes and drive you crazy sometimes. Guess what, they love you too. It gets to a point where you completely accept the other person for who they are at this moment while at the same time seeing the wonderful person they are can become.

I’m not sure how the journey will be for each of you, I know for me it’s been a slow one where it’s not until I made it through the period of growth that I even realized I was growing. You know, that whole “can’t see the forest for the trees” thing …

Now you know how the story began, and I hope you all stay around to see where the story goes.

And as a special treat for making it all the way through, here are two poems I wrote today. The first poetry I’ve written in 7 years! I feel as though getting back to writing poetry is a significant mile-stone in my life, it feels good to not be afraid to explore different areas of creativity.

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Lifting and sinking
Ebb and flow
High and low
I am the drifting
I am the shifting

My aim is true
The soul is ready
Heart unsteady
I am bleeding blue
I am bleeding through

Shattered and whole
Cloudy and clear
Reflect and mirror
I am the magnetic pole
I am the celestial pole

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Bluegrass heart
City smarts
She’s a beating in my soul.

Crooked street
Quoting Keats
She’s the words on my scroll.

Love tree
Growing free
She’s screaming to extol.
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