The Mountaintop and the Year I Missed
By Amy M. Sampson
In memory of Michael Scott Shubach and Ashley Mertz Neal. Oh, how I wished I could have saved you. I miss you kids so much. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life.
Until we meet again…
To all of you who were there for me when I was at my lowest, thank you. You know who you are.
Dr. Matt Costley and the late Sheila Gravett. Thank you both for never giving up on me and giving me another shot at this life with your guidance and counseling.
Barbara Clark. You gave me a gift when I was a teenager, noticed I loved writing, and read every single thing I ever wrote at that age. And for that? I’m so sorry. ;) Because of you, I’ll always believe that I’m a writer and that writing helped carry me through so many hard times.
Dr. H, You gave me the nudge to get into therapy, find hope, and told me there was a light at the end of the tunnel I would eventually reach. Thank you for sharing your story with me years ago so that I, in turn, would know I could also make it through. Please keep sharing it so it can help others. This, my story, doesn’t and can’t exist without you. Without you, I would have not made it out alive, and for that I will always be eternally grateful. Thank you for all you have been in my life.
Always,
A
INTRO
If anything in my subject matter is triggering to you, I suggest you wait until a better time to read this, as the subject matter is and can be very heavy. As always, please reach out to a counselor or the National Suicide Prevention Line if you’re in danger of any self-harm.
This is my story. Names, dates, places, and so forth have been changed. If you think something was written about you, you’re probably wrong. Or you feel guilt or shame or some sort. This was all written over the course of several years, so some of the situations have long passed or worked themselves out and I don’t feel the same anymore. This book is a culmination of poetry, prose, and other writings that span the course of many unnamed years. The story is not told in a linear fashion. Much of what you are reading, I wrote to help me get through what I was dealing with in my head. Some of it was written in the moment. Other parts were written years after the fact. Each writing was a part of my healing. They are writings of losing and finding myself over and over and over again. You will notice these things, as well as some stories and ideas that circle back on themselves. You might read something and think, “I read that already.” You probably did.
When I was 13, my 7th grade English teacher encouraged me to write like Anne Frank did--to bear my soul and use writing to help me get through difficult teenage angst years. What I didn’t realize then was that my teacher gave me a gift. She taught me a coping strategy--writing--along with going to the court and shooting hoops, as she was also my basketball coach. I still do both to this very day. Writing is one of many things that saved me. I hope and pray you find something to help save you. Maybe something in this book will save you. I have compiled a list of resources at the end that helped me during or after my depression.
Over the past 3 years, I’ve lost five friends, former students, and co-workers to suicide. I, myself, have been suicidal in years past. I am writing this book now because it’s time to share my story, but I also am writing it for those of you who think you’re alone or can’t see your way out of the next day.
I know what that feels like.
Please know these things:
You’re not too far gone.
You’re not beyond hope.
You are loved.
Your life matters.
You’re not alone.
Thank you for being a part of my journey.
Thank you for reading my story.
~Amy
PROLOGUE
Bailey.
Michael.
Sergio.
Russ.
Ashley.
Sheila.
Jennifer.
They’re all gone.
I knew every single one.
Some I was closer to than others, but that is irrelevant.
My name could have easily been listed above.
I could have been suicide seven.
More than likely, I would have been suicide number one.
Say the word with me: suicide.
Say this also: feeling that way isn’t out of the norm.
Say this:
I’m not too far gone.
I’m not beyond hope.
I’m loved.
My life matters.
I’m not alone.
You may not feel any of those things in a moment of desperation or despair, but I can promise you they’re all true.
In my darkest moments, my depression, and losing all of those listed above, sometimes there were no answers. No answers to “Why?” There was no way out. I couldn’t see my way out.
But now?
What do I have now?
I know how to deal with life when it hits hard and know why I couldn’t deal years ago.
I have people I can go to anytime day or night.
I have counseling if needed.
I have constructs in place both inside me and in my life to help me get through.
And so this is my story.
My story of “through.”
My story of my mountaintop and the year I missed.
PART 1: PART OF “THE MOUNTAINTOP AND THE YEAR I MISSED”
I missed out on a year of life.
At least.
Maybe more.
I was alive, but dead inside.
I wasn't okay.
I tried to be okay.
I couldn't.
I tried, though.
There are things I wanted to do and couldn't.
There are things I missed, and didn't want to.
There are things I was supposed to be doing and couldn't bring myself to do them.
Glued to my bed.
Crippled with enormous anxiety.
Heavy with a downcast spirit.
Washing away in tides of tears.
Lost in my mind.
So lost in the swirling sadness.
Why was I even alive?
I walked out the door of work for the summer in tears.
My daily routine was about to change for 10 weeks because I'm a teacher, and we have summers off.
No work.
No work friends.
No bells.
No students.
Just me, alone with my thoughts.
I can't do this.
I ran away to the mountains hoping they would cure me.
I ran away to find someone hoping they would cure me.
I ran to people who couldn't save me.
I tried to save myself.
I prayed to God hoping he would do something.
I drowned myself in tears hoping I could cry it out.
I ran and ran and ran hoping I could run it off.
If there is an end, I'll finish.
If there is a cure, I'll find it.
If there is healing, I'll heal.
Nothing worked.
If sadness was a flood, I was long drown.
If depression was real, I'd finally realized it.
If I was going to make it to the other side, where was it?
Was it over the mountains I was climbing near Breckenridge?
Was it over the mountains I was hiking the same week in Rocky Mountain National Park?
Was it a year, five years, ten years down the road?
What was wrong with me?
Where was my happy?
Where was I?
Who was I?
"Time will heal your wounds." What a sick, sardonic cliche.
Time is a bitch.
Ok, so maybe she isn't female.
Maybe time is a shitty ass man.
A shitty ass human.
Or like a friend who wasn't on my side.
Or a pet that doesn't follow commands.
No, time, for me, was just another noun with no positive connotations, analogies, metaphors, or similes.
So, I rode it out.
Rode it out thinking and trying everything except professional help.
Professional sounded so out of place and too formal.
Too formal for my free-spirited soul.
Help: strong women don't ask for help.
I don't need help, I retorted.
But I had a wounded soul.
And band-aids don't fix bullet holes.
My vision and imagination were too myopic to see what I needed.
I couldn't see the end, my way out.
If I could only have seen it, would that have mattered?
I didn't know someone would eventually help me.
If I'd only had someone step in sooner. Intervene. Would that have changed anything?
Depression.
Round one: I never saw any of it coming. I didn't even know what I was going through. It was mostly just eternal sadness. 24 hours every day and every night.
Round two: I saw it come on like a slow fade-out of an already lengthy and melodramatic ‘80s song at a high school school dance.
Round three: Wasn't supposed to happen but it did. You can't control horrible, conniving people who take in your job from you.
Round four: See "all of the above." Then, add, "I've got this." Yeah, right.
Round five: I knew it was coming, but didn't believe it. Conceitedly, I laughed it off. I told myself I'd be okay: I made it past rounds one through four, after all.
Round six: WTAF Covid/2020…
Round seven: 2024. Breakups. Harrassed at work. A move.
How many more rounds will this life hold?
PART TWO: HINDSIGHT
Hindsight is looking back and seeing what I wished I would have seen in the moment, but I didn’t or didn’t want to. These aren’t regrets. I regret very little in my life--maybe four things. One is not studying abroad in college. Another is that I didn’t go on vacation with a friend a few years ago. A third was not going salmon fishing in Alaska. The final regret was not kissing someone I knew who had fallen in love with me twice and vice versa. Pretty boring regrets, right? Would those four things have changed my life? Of course. Every moment does.
But hindsight is more about seeing your life lived backwards in order to keep moving forward.
These are signposts for the next hard thing.
1: The Conversation
I was really messed up, wasn’t I?
No you weren’t. I never thought that.
Well, I felt like it. I have to ask something I’ve always wondered about. Who paid for my counseling? I never got a bill. I went for 5-6 months. Nothing.
Insurance wasn’t set up yet. So you never got charged.
Oh, wow! Lucky me! I got better AND it cost me nothing. Well, I’m so grateful for you. You really helped me. And you know what? All those people we talked about? They’re the ones who need counseling.
*you smiled, laughed awkwardly* Yep.
I didn’t learn that in counseling. *Laughs* But I figured it out. I figured them out.
___________________________________
Sometimes you aren’t the crazy one.
2: Hindsight
Hindsight is always 20/20.
Believe it.
Everything I can reflect on, I can compartmentalize.
Make sense of.
I can see how I was healed or saved.
But inside the moment?
My vision? I was blind.
I couldn’t see my way out of anything.
I couldn’t see my way out of the depression I was in.
One good day turned to two? Forget it. Impossible.
Depression never saw the good days coming.
Forget that cliched light at the end of the tunnel.
BUT.
Hindsight says I can make it out of my situations again and again and again.
Depression came to me at least six times.
I call them rounds.
I didn’t know how to fight at first.
I know it will come again even though I pray it won’t.
I loathe it every single time.
But I come out swinging.
And crying.
And weak.
I’ll make it out each time.
I make it out each time.
But never alone.
Don’t leave me to go through this alone.
3: 90 Seconds to Nothing
I read a few books once by Pema Chodron where she talked about the 90 second emotion rule.
Pema, you’re full of crap, I thought as I read it. Of course, I believed everything else she talked about because the woman is a Buddist nun, and I figured she’s pretty wise and on to some profound things. Plus, all the calm and healed friends I know in my life swear by her books. But for some reason, not this one 90 second rule. No way, Pema. No frickin’ way.
It’s simple: brain scientist Jill Bolte Taylor, author of My Stroke Of Insight, describes it best: “When a person has a reaction to something in their environment, there’s a 90-second chemical process that happens; any remaining emotional response is just the person choosing to stay in that emotional loop.” Pema furthers this science by encouraging us to sit with the emotion and not judge it, let alone ourselves. Sounds easy enough, right?
I followed her other advice, which was to lean into anxiety when you are feeling it. Own it. I loved the rule and still heed to it. Anxiety today? LEANING PEMA! I’m owning this pain and LEANING IN THE EVERLASTING ARMS AND MORE. (and yelling in all caps at Pema). I will get through and wake up better tomorrow. Leaning in--yep, I shared it with friends near and far. But the 90 second one? It was a hard sell.
And then I found myself on the most beautiful scenic byway in the lower 48, the Beartooth Highway, crying, sobbing, and overwhelmed with no cell phone service to call or text and commiserate with friends. My anxiety was overtaking me on vacation and meds were not kicking in fast enough, plus I hate crying while driving.
Pema. Ugh. Okay. I’ll set a timer. Okay, okay, okay!!! YOU WIN.
*sets timer, cries, can’t breathe, wants to scream at the universe*
61 seconds in the emotion fades.
Pema. Dammit, Pema.
You’re a genius.
Thank you.
4: The 3rd of July
You sent the second email.
Then we texted.
Thousands of miles away.
I saved every text, every email to this day.
If we could only go back to July 2nd, a day before,
I think you’d never have sent the second email.
And I’d never have told you how I felt.
And here we wouldn’t be.
Things would be as they still should be—
how I’ve longed for them to be,
even with all that happened from that day forward.
Us.
Friends.
Still.
And that’s why I loathe this week.
Because you aren't in my life.
Where are you, friend?
What will it take?
What do you want?
What are you afraid of?
Why are you hesitating?
Please just do it.
Please come back.
July 2nd, the first email—metaphorically—let's go back.
Just text me.
It’s time.
5. Wish
I wish I didn’t remember dates.
Exact ones. For years.
I wish I wasn’t always so bold.
But it’s like I can’t stop it.
Ingrained in me?
It’s almost untamed.
I wish things from my past didn’t haunt me.
It’s not that they’re all bad.
Some just are unbelievably painful or unexplainable.
My mind doesn’t shut them off sometimes—it hops down the rabbit hole.
Keeps me up some nights when all I want is rest.
I wish I didn’t feel EVERY damn thing. Every.
They say I’m an empath like that’s a good thing.
I’m sort of an empath.
Not 100%—I don’t take on other’s pain.
But I have an enormous amount of empathy.
And I’m proud of that.
A lot of people out there have none.
I have been on the other side of their delivery of that fresh dish of bullshit.
Sometimes I wish for things.
Sometimes I don't.
I always wonder, though.
Maybe it’s me.
I am unabashedly—me.
Maybe it’s my heart.
So much heart.
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a good person because maybe nothing would hurt.
I suppose that’s what it is to not be human.
But I’ll always wonder
and some days wish...
Ask...
What’s it like to not feel?
6: Dear 20 Year Old Me
Dear 20 Year Old Me:
The next 20 years are going to be effing amazing. You’re 20, though, and don’t use the F word yet (so I won’t either) and you probably won’t believe all the things you’ll do and see if I told you. You’d never be able to dream up what’s going to happen to you in this half of your life. You won’t regret much of it, either, even some of the people you’ll meet that you’d wished you’d never met, but I'll explain that later. Keep reading.
You’re going to see the world, can you believe that?—22 more countries than you’ve seen so far, 28 by age 40 and Puerto Rico. You’ll have visited all 50 states by age 31. You’re going to love working out and running after college basketball is over (and you'll score over 1000 points total in college). Someday you’ll make a bucket list of all the places you want to see and things you want to do, and one of them you will do this crazy race called an Ironman--and all after not biking and swimming for years. You’ll train for 11 months and do it and all in one day. You’re going to get really decent on guitar, release an album after writing a lot of music, learn photography, grow to be an effective teacher, graduate with a 4.0 in two masters programs but don’t let any of go to your head, because remember you still have to take your clothing alterations to your mom because you can’t even sew a button without looking up a video of how to do it correctly....
You’re going to lose your faith on and off through the years, and walk away from the church even at some point but still have a thread of faith you’ll never fully lose, and you will still believe you’re here on this earth for a reason. You’ll still always stand up for and do the right thing. It’s ingrained in your blood.
And you're going to lose a job. You won't even know that's what's going on, which is a good thing because you'll get out of a place you love, but you'll be put in a place that's far better.
You’ll learn you’re inimitable. There is no one like you. Sometimes that will make you feel alone and lonely or misunderstood because a lot of people won’t get you. They won’t know your heart. They won’t see your uniqueness and creativity. Most women won’t understand your confidence and that it’s real, but you've never been one to compare yourself to others, especially other women. You learned that a long time ago. Your few close friends will love your confidence and you for just being you. You’re solely your own true self, and it shows. And you’ll find others who are also like you in this manner—independent, strong men and women. Keep them close. And you. Never apologize for any of these things about YOU.
You’re going to learn that the way you do one thing is the way you do everything. You’re passionate and kind and giving and love with the cour de force of a hurricane. Your students will see that. Your coworkers. Your best friends. Complete strangers. Those who fall in love with you. And those who respect you will admire you for who you are.
But you’ll also find people who will lie about you, tell half truths about you, will try to tear you down on purpose, or tell you to be someone else—and those people, run from them if you can. They don’t deserve to even be your friend. The hard part is that you rarely see these people coming. Take the lessons as they come. Grow from those situations. You've already had people try to do this and, right now at age 20, you don't feel like you're enough. Girl, someday you're going to realize you're enough. You're more than enough. I can't wait until you find that out.
And you’re going to find and fall in love. I know you never thought that would be in your life or even something you’d want, but it will be and more than once. Those who fall for you will fall because of who you are and how you make them feel about themselves. Some of them won’t be able to even put into words what you do to them to make them feel that way, and that’s ok because you'll sometimes feel that exact same way. Sometimes you don’t need words to say what you’re feeling. You’ll fight being in love the first few times, but once you finally surrender and find out it’s ok to be vulnerable, you’ll find you love-- love more than anything on earth. It’s your motivation and the part of your Enneagram 3 that you don’t talk about with anyone except for those you do love.
I shouldn’t tell you this next part, but I will anyway. The heartache and hardships that you’re going to endure in your 30s are going to send you into the deepest sadness and depression and darkness you’ve ever known. You’ve been sad and felt loss, but none like the one that comes with losing yourself. Like getting so low you’ll want to take your own life. Spoiler alert: You won’t. Many things, many people, are going to help you get through this. Let them help you. They’re doing it because they love you and care about you so much. They know the old you and know you’ll be yourself again even though you won’t believe that for a long time. And those who help you aren’t going to save you. Oh no. And you won’t save yourself either. You’ll understand later that it will take them and you both to save you. It takes so many people, things, and time. You'll find that we can’t do this life on our own.
You’ll find yourself again. You’ll find your happy again. You’re going to come out of your depression being so on top of the world, so unstoppable, but also so much more loving and compassionate and grateful, that you’ll like your new self even better. Believe it! Your true, close friends will like the new you better too because they, too, know where you’ve been and what you went through to become who you now are. It’s hard to explain how you’ll feel and who you’ll be, but you’ll see. And that fire you went though? It’s going to refine you, not kill you
I don't want you to regret things at all. Don't regret a single thing you do the next 20 years--things like falling in love or meeting what you thought was the wrong person or going through the darkest nights of your soul. A lot of life is a domino effect. If you hadn't done XYZ, it wouldn't have led to the next thing, which led to the next thing, which led to the next thing. You'll see what I mean. Some of life is so difficult to explain unless you've lived it.
You’re going to wonder if the best in life is yet to come by the time you reach 40. I can’t say. I’m only writing looking backwards. But you’re an eternal optimist and someone who lives life with no regrets, so my guess is that you’ll make sure your life and everyone in it are everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Few people live like that. I have a feeling you'll live like that until your dying day.
Girl, you’re lucky. Blessed. And something else. I mean that in a good way.
You’re going to wake up on a cold day in January, look in the mirror at age 40, cry because you always cry on your birthday, and say to yourself, “Girl. What a life so far.”
And yes, what a life.
Keep living your best life every damn day. It doesn’t mean you have to experience new things constantly or travel a ton. Those are the things you enjoy doing, yes, but I know how much you also enjoy working, your routine, and just being home doing things like cooking and reading and spending time with your best friends and your dogs. You know and will know even more at age 40 that your best life is lived by just being you every day you wake up. You didn’t wake up to be mediocre, after all!
Here’s to 40 more years.
Always,
Your 40 Year Old Self
7: Second Chances
I grew up in a religious home and at church and church camp there was always talk of getting second chances. "God is the God of second chances," was the line I was fed over and over.
I believed it.
And I believed that people also do and should give second chances.
I still do.
It has more to do with forgiveness and change than it does the chance.
But the older I get the more I see the truth: there isn't always a second chance.
Not everyone is nice.
Forgiveness is a cutesy word and all, but people like to talk about it more than follow through and actually do it.
There are a lot of horrible, conniving, malicious people on this earth.
Hurtful.
And hurt people, hurt people.
I've sadly been on the receiving end of that.
I’m still waiting on some second chances.
I will wait my entire life if need be…
8: Things They Don’t Teach In College
No one tells you that you might lose a job.
That people will lie.
That people aren't nice.
That not everyone has to like you.
That life is hard.
That heartache is real.
That second chances aren't for everyone.
That running shoes need replacing.
That love fails.
That love is a drug you can be addicted to.
That depression overwhelms like a stormy nightmare that never ends.
That anxiety cripples.
That every class you paid money for in college has a 50-50 shot of being a complete waste of your time. Maybe less.
That live jazz is mesmerizing.
And recorded jazz can't compete with that live mojo.
That the world is huge.
The world is small.
9. The Domino and its Effect
I am on a plane, leaving my final vacation destination for the summer, checking my email before departure time, only to read that I have an upcoming and unforeseen duty for one of my jobs, and I am in tears. Seriously? I didn't sign up for this! I didn't want to do it. Tactfully, I responded only to be met with a passive response the next day. Taking one for the team, I begrudgingly said "yes" to this item that had been raised and I pressed on.
One by one the dominos began to fall. Now these were not life altering, earth shattering dominos per se, but they were still dominos--emotionally charged and leaving me befuddled after each one fell to the next. Summer had filled my life with inexpressible joy, time with friends and family, new experiences, and hope for an outstanding school year. And then August and September blew in like an unpredictable Spring causing the glasses I had been viewing the upcoming year through to become a bit smudged.
Winds of change of the most trying kind flew in from every entity of my life: my jobs, my car, my friends, my house, my health, my family.
All. At. Once.
Emotionally, I was drained. Physically, my body was hurting. Spiritually, I was determined to be unwavering.
Outside, I held it together pretty well.
I know how to deal. I will be fine. said I…. I thought I knew how to deal. I thought my faith was strong.
No need for you to know the details of each falling domino. And, no, the year wasn't all bad at all. And some of the bad was more along the lines of what you might call frustrating. There was a lot of good sprouted this year.
What you do need to know, though, is when dominoes fall, sometimes they stay there for days like a child who played with them, scattered them all over the room, threw some here and there, and then left them for a parent to say it's time to pick them up and put them away.
And then what?
I can put them away, but that doesn't mean they still don't exist.
I can play a new game in life while they are laying here. Mexican Train Wreck, anyone?
I can take my chances and stand them up, end on end, anticipating perhaps another push.
Oh, I know the different ways things can end based on what I have been through and such, but experience can only teach you so much, and often the lesson comes after the test. And, yeah, the effects are unpredictable. Most things in life are, you know...
Remember as children how when we stood dominos end on end, creating paths and patterns before pushing the first one over? The metaphor of the domino effect isn't present in youth. It is just pure, unadulterated fun.
There isn't always a negative connotation to pushing the first domino over into the next.
And that is how I hope to start the beginning of each new season in my life.
And while I'm picking up the other pieces, deciding which piece to put where, which path to take next, which things still need fixed, I know one thing alone to be true: for whatever reason, sometimes God allows for the dominos to fall and for things to be everything ranging from difficult to messy to favorable, and sometimes, all at the same time.
But the effects?
It's more than learning lessons, friends.
Though we will learn some.
It's more than "God taught me this or that."
Though He will teach.
It's more than I or so-and-so got what they deserved.
Though that can happen.
It's more than self-growth and betterment.
Though these are always good.
It's that it never was about me in the first place.
It's never supposed to be about us.
And that's always the best place to be.
PART THREE: THE VALLEY, WHERE THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH
This is the darkest part of my story. I always describe my depression to others as a time in my life where my imagination was broken. If you have an imagination of any kind, imagine it being so far removed from you that you cannot foresee one, two, three or more good days in a row. That’s depression. My doctor told me that I would start having several good days in a row and eventually be healed. I was so broken that I could not imagine being myself again.
When I turned 40, I got two tattoos. One says “Alis Propriss Volat,” which means “she flies with her own wings. The other is the word “through.” I got them because I did make it out and am flying high on my own. The word “through” comes from the 23rd Psalm. We walk THROUGH valleys. We don’t stay there.
Thank God for the mountaintop. Thank God for the lessons in the valleys.
The writings in this section recount my rounds of depression and are not told in chronological order.
The Conversation III
What does your tattoo on your wrist say? Through? What’s it mean?
Have you heard of the 23rd Psalm? It’s usually recited at funerals…
Yeah, I think so.
It says we walk THROUGH a valley; we don’t stay in it.
___________________________________________________________
But no one teaches you how incredibly dark that valley is.
And that you may not make it out alive.
2: All the Ways
When I was at my lowest,
I envisioned all the ways I could, I would, take my own life.
I obviously didn't,
but I still imagined them.
What would be the quickest?
The least painful?
A gun I didn't own, that I could quickly get from Wal-Mart.
A car accident.
Letting my car run in the garage.
Drowning.
Pills.
Praying to God to take me in my sleep because I'm a coward.
“God, if this is it? TAKE. ME. OUT.” True prayer.
Or maybe I wasn't a coward.
Maybe I knew that wasn't what I wanted.
Or maybe I did and just wanted a divine intervention;
for God to exist--to prove, to show himself real by taking me, by answering my prayer.
Maybe I'd leave a note.
Maybe none.
Maybe I'd take my dog with me.
Maybe not.
Maybe I'd grasp something symbolic in my final moments.
Maybe not.
Is there a right way to kill yourself?
And when I brought such images to my mind,
I would cry even more,
sleep even less.
Wonder who even cared, who even loved me.
No one was reaching out to me, after all.
Fuck all the people who'd said they were really my friends, is how I felt, what I thought.
The loneliest place on earth? Thoughts of cessation while being alone.
I remember once my preacher father telling me how he'd read many suicide notes through the years and they all have a combination of this wildness and disconnectedness to them.
He told me he'd read ONE in his 65 some years of living that was from a person who didn't write that way.
One that was cohesive, made sense, had sound reasoning.
One.
I could write that way, I thought.
Who is the judge of our writing?
Only the living.
I tried to imagine my own funeral and how others would react or act at it.
Do we get to see our own funeral?
I've always believed so because most movies and books depict it that way,
but pragmatism and reality resounds: that's an unreal thought.
When you're dead, you're dead.
Right?
My imagination was so damaged by depression at the time that I couldn't even conjure up in my mind what that day might look like.
I couldn't capture the possible feelings of others.
So far removed to even imagine empathy, pain, suffering, sadness.
How many things within me were crushed? Destroyed?
And this is the "darkest night of the soul" the sages speak of.
This is the "so far gone" that many find themselves in,
and in disbelief of the other cliche--seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.
A depressed person doesn't need cliches.
A depressed person needs anything that gives hope.
And I was hanging on to any ounce of hope I could muster.
Because everything was so, so awry.
All these ways I imagined a death,
I imagined my death,
yet all of the ways a person can come back to themselves was also simultaneously happening.
I was trying.
I was mending.
Being restored.
I wondered how a live person and a person who was once so full of life could feel so dead,
but I was coming alive again--a seed buried through the most stark and bitter Winter.
Waiting on Spring like a hibernating, unassuming, unknowing creature.
Unaware of my healing, yet somehow longing for it.
A longing that existed, yes, but I'd yet to believe in.
But even the dead can, and will, come back to life--
more alive,
more vibrant,
more grateful,
more compassionate,
more confident,
more loving,
happier,
kinder,
incredibly stronger,
somewhat different,
and better.
And here I am,
all of those things and more.
Don't believe me?
Let me in or get close again,
and I'll show you all the ways.
3: Your Door
Walked into the office
Walked across the hall
Walked with tears in my eyes
Back into a conversation
That gave me strings of hope
Made me think that I could
See the light of day again
But in my charts no one needed to see
and I still can’t figure out how to erase
you wrote it down like there was something wrong with me
Beyond what was already wrong with me
But I knew that wasn’t the truth
And it wasn’t who I am
It wasn’t me
Nothing was wrong with me.
I was depressed, but nothing else
I ran into the streets that day
medicine in my veins
felt like concrete in my shoes
I couldn’t run, couldn’t escape
Couldn’t cry
Couldn’t feel
Couldn’t do this anymore
So I ran to your door
And you weren’t home
I needed you to listen
But it would be another year
You don't know the path that I went down
It was darker than my words let on
I never brought it up, doubt I ever will
But if you knew, would it have even mattered?
So I’ll say some of it now
I never dropped my guard enough to tell you that your words saved me and
I believed every single one as best I could
Hanging by a thread I tried to believe
I looked for the light you said would come
And I found it, it took half a year
But everyday your hope saved me
Everyday you saved me
The darkest nights are gone
The oceans of tears sometimes still come
But the depression is washed away
Who I’ve rebuilt remains
And you don’t know the new me
I put myself back together differently
Better than before
I’m better than before
I’m different than before
So remember that next time you let me walk into your door…
Maybe you’ll let me walk back in your door
4. The End and the Beginning
There will come a time when you believe everything is finished.
Yet that will be the beginning. - L'Amour
I thought it was the ending.
Or did I?
It felt like the end.
It was an ending.
I suppose those are two very different things.
There are songs and poems speaking about ends and beginnings and how they're connected.
But what if they're not?
What if the end is just the end.
And the beginning is just the next day.
They just happen to happen in chronological order.
I suppose day B can't occur without day A.
I've felt the end.
The endings.
And new beginnings came, albeit not always so soon.
Time has its own way of doing as it pleases.
Just like those alive in it.
Everything in its time.
What are you waiting for?
What are you waiting on?
Ending something?
Beginning again?
5: The Wind
I remember when nights you couldn’t sleep and thought you were losing it, you’d turn on your Spotify playlists and do what you could to drift asleep. Some nights when I can't sleep, I imagine you feeling the same way I do, and I pray for you.
And then in what are now moments in my short life, you were gone.
You’re still gone.
I never dream about you anymore.
I think about you every few days.
I do miss you a lot.
We were fast friends.
The best of friends.
And then you were gone.
And it almost killed me.
Literally.
I never told you that.
But I always believed you knew.
But then again, maybe you didn’t.
I always wondered why you did nothing if that was the truth.
So maybe you didn’t.
It’s not that you would’ve saved me.
I had to learn to save myself.
I found out I couldn’t do it alone.
That didn’t take away from the fact that everything you did to me absolutely destroyed me.
Or maybe it was all my fault.
What did I do wrong?
You told me nothing. You did nothing wrong, girl.
And then there was hope.
Glimpses of it.
But still hope.
We met again years later.
I thought this was it.
You’d be back.
And you killed every ounce of hope left in my soul in an email.
Why? Who does that?
Another year I felt the coldness cut even deeper.
I asked you to meet me.
I knew you’d come.
And you didn’t.
All the signs pointed to yes.
Hope.
I knew you’d be there.
But you weren’t.
The wind blew right through me like you did years ago.
But the thing is, the wind left that blistering summer evening.
The wind... It always leaves.
But it comes back.
Yes. It always comes back.
Please come back.
6: Earth’s the Right Place
If love is love is love is love
And if love were enough
Then you’d still be mine
You’d still be here
If time wasn’t an issue
And neither was age
I’d not mourn the loss of each day
The adding of gray
I hear wedding bells
Hear a funeral dirge, see the lighted pyre
Ah, but
Which will come first?
The poets say I’ll love you in life, yes,
But better after death.
But I’d rather love you here.
best.
now.
till death whisks us away to the unknown place
where love is uncertain because
"Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better."
7: What I’m Missing Right Now
Here I am. It's the end of my 17th year of teaching, which is hard enough to believe, but I'm finishing it teaching remotely.
And I hate every last second of what's gone down since mid-March.
I won't go into details about what happened or why I hate it, and for a lot of reasons, but will talk about how I feel right now.
Usually, school will end and the same or following day I will hit the road or hop on a plane. In my Facebook memories, I saw that last year the school year ended and I headed straight to Chicago to see Hamilton and get my USA triathlon certification. Upon returning from that quick weekend trip, I took just 48 hours to get all my gear packed and headed out west for three weeks, meeting two of my best friends along the way to do a girls' weekend trip.
And right now?
I'm sort of in mourning.
I wish I had a more apt word for it, but I don't.
Grieving is another word that could fit it.
Sad about not traveling.
But it's not the end of the world on any of the above.
You get the idea.
I can't predict the future or even plan for it.
Well, I could, but you know what I mean.
I used to have trips planned for months in advance.
I don't right now.
I know I could hop in the car and drive anywhere in the USA, but a lot of the national parks are still closed or have huge restrictions. Airbnb's are open, but there is a risk there and in hotels of human contact with COVID. I can camp, but it's still very chilly and rainy all over.
I haven't even planned anything for the summer. I do have a few Google docs of tentative things. A road trip to some national parks out east, maybe a trip to Michigan to see some parks and nostalgic spots from years past and of my family (my mom's side is from there), and the longing for Canada to open their borders so I can go to Banff. When it comes to going overseas, I keep toying with Brazil and Australia just because of the low costs, but the borders are still technically closed. It's also worth noting that I have a bucket list that is about 70 things long, so when you long to be everywhere but you're nowhere but home, and alone? Not easy.
Part of me says, "Calm down and stay here. Save a bunch of money. Travel next year."
Part of me says, "Girllllll, good luck."
Part of me says, "You're just feeling this way because you're alone."
Part of me wants to scream, "This is NOT what was supposed to happen. This is SO stupid. F U TWENTY-TWENTY!"
And part of me still is okay with this. I've found a new routine that's not horrible. It includes losing weight, running, weights, cooking for one, reading a shit-ton, and writing.
I have no answers.
I'm letting myself feel all the emotions, even if they're not pleasant.
When you're single and have an affinity to see the world and learn and explore, the best I can do right now is to try to live in the moment, work on my house, save some money for another time, plan trips for another year, be open to last minute spontaneity, and hope that maybe, just maybe, my friends around here would be up for even just conversation.
The bottom line?
More than missing traveling and visiting new places?
I miss people.
I miss hugs.
Touch--those of you with family or someone you're living with have NO idea.
I miss my 2.5 best friends.
I miss conversations with those 2.5 friends.
I miss presence.
8: At Any Cost
With COVID amuck
the end of the world,
some think,
will arrive soon
on their doorstep.
It might.
If there a gentle knocking decides to resounds,
I say, "Come in."
Because I've been desperately longing for touch.
Human touch.
And somehow I believe I might let it in at any cost.
9: Blow
Blow right through me.
Like a bullet
Like the wind
Like the breeze off the lake and the subway trains.
I can’t feel anything except every damn thing right now.
And I hate it.
10: Four Minutes at a Time
The darkest day of the year isn’t the solstice.
It’s today.
Not literally today.
Three years ago today.
But today, I can still feel that memory.
It visits me, even haunts me, from time to time.
I remember most of all this:
hanging onto threads of hope
because hope is everything.
It’s all that I am.
It’s still all that I am.
However today, aside from the darkness,
it’s also the brightest day of the year because they say it’s all up from here.
4 minutes at a time.
Sunlight slowly returning.
I need that.
But all the other things I need right now in the winter's coldest moments can’t be bought or wrapped up with pretty, little bows.
I need all the things I’ve been asking for.
I’ve been hoping for.
I have hope.
Always.
But
I need compassion.
I need kindness.
I need the holiday spirit.
I need a Christmas miracle.
I need understanding.
I need grace.
I need reconciliation.
I need the benefit of the doubt, a chance.
In a season of darkness, I need all the light. All the light.
11: Shattered
Open yourself up.
Take another chance upon chance, amen.
Open yourself up
to the possibility of being in love again.
And without any warning,
behold, another end.
It's a sick, sick farce.
It's a shattered, ripped out heart.
It's a lie you keep trying to believe:
that someday you'll find love's new start.
12: A Whole Lot of Heart
There's a whole lot of heart in me,
deep and far beyond what you can see.
A person who wishes she didn't care,
didn't feel, didn't know, didn't bare
my soul sometimes
or wear my heart on my sleeve.
Most of the time I try to hide it
because it's safe and locked away.
If I'm vulnerable, ever, it means I'm at least showing up--
with daring courage that can't be shaken or swayed.
So I'll
call myself brave
call myself safe
call myself fearless
call myself fearful.
I'm admittedly all of these things and more.
My 'whole lot of heart' only pines for kind souls
who will let me feel welcomed at their door.
13. A Fleeting Thought
Nine generations will never come to fruition.
The eighth? Was me.
Was: such a heartbreaking word.
Questions about what they were like.
Who lived where?
Thoughts like:
I’m lucky.
Blessed.
Torn.
The clock ticks internally.
It usually goes away the next day, but it still ticks.
It usually doesn't. Hasn't.
This is the second time I've ever really heard it.
Sometimes it's strong.
Most of the time it's a fleeting thought.
But a deep one.
It's a sadness no one can see.
No one knows.
But I know.
Things that will die with me:
A set of The Chronicles of Narnia I’ll never read at bedtimes.
A clarinet I’ll never teach in the afternoons, 30 minutes at time of practice for 10 years.
A cookbook from the past hundred years on both sides of my family.
Stories of world travels to all the states and dozens of countries.
All of these, all of these will die with me.
Not any of my stuff.
The stuff will end up in a garage sale or a local Goodwill.
A young child, not mine, will purchase the books for a steal, then later that night open “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe” —book one.
Begin.
And only question the name, my name, in the front as long as the reading of the page allows.
0.8 seconds.
It’s not that I mean nothing.
I don’t.
It’s not that I haven’t loved or loved enough.
I have.
It’s not that I couldn’t.
I could.
It’s the something else that I really desire that I don't have.
And it's not totally the aforementioned, fleeting thought, the one that has only shown its face a few times in my life, though sometimes it is.
Mostly? It's the thought and the face that never leaves and is in every good dream I have:
It’s the right timing that I didn't have.
But maybe one day will again.
14. Another Fleeting Thought
A woman once told me I would mourn all of what I did not experience with you, but not at once.
It will come in waves, she said.
I didn't understand what she meant.
But now I do.
Football and catch in the backyard.
Graduation.
A wedding day.
Baby powder and poopy diapers.
Your first step.
School picture day.
New clothes.
Innocent love.
Skinned knees.
Bike rides in the park.
I mourn the past and future and even the present.
My heart breaks.
I see you.
I feel you, though you're not here.
15: A Fleeting Thought, Part 3: Merry and Not So Bright
I’ve been having a lot of hormone issues this year. No one has taken this seriously for a while now but me. I just haven’t been ok around my periods—anxiety, cycles changing, fatigue, and many other things I don’t want to list here. The anxiety is the absolute worst, though.
But this one hurt: last week after looking through all my lab results it was clear that I likely would’ve had a very difficult time conceiving, let alone carrying a child to full term.
I bawled.
I’ve only had the longing to have kids 3 times in my life, but that didn’t matter at that moment.
I still cried.
One of my friends blew it off. “You didn’t want kids anyway,” she said. Sort of true. I dated several people with kids, whom I loved. I would’ve pursued children with the right person.
I’ve been single most of my adult life and do whatever I want when I want. Maybe all of that is to say and realize this restless soul wasn’t supposed to have kids and instead, God gave me a longing for adventure instead. Maybe he was protecting me. I don’t know.
But as I head into this season of Merry, my heart is broken over this, even if for a day or two. It’s been broken a lot this year. I keep rising strong and am far more resilient than in years past, but I still hurt.
So... If you’re reading this and you can heal someone’s hurt, do it. It costs nothing to be a kind and decent human and friend.
16: Miracle
Right now I need a miracle.
Mercy.
Grace.
Reconciliation.
Kindness.
Anything kind.
These things are magical.
These things are healing.
Come back my friend.
Come back.
17: The Broken
The broken can still break
Continue indefinitely
Until is there even some semblance of who you are
Who you used to be?
Cracks.
Brokenness.
They say that’s how the light gets in.
But what if darkness isn’t all we’ve believed it to be?
What if it’s just a metaphor and yet not the truth?
Bend until you break.
Break, break, break.
Yesterday was a shattering.
Today? Tender grace.
God, we need, I need grace.
From this year, but also each other.
Can you lend me your ear?
Listen.
I’m speaking to YOU.
I need YOUR grace.
It’s time.
—————
(Poem allusion “Break, Break, Break” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
18: Too Little, Too Late 2017
The alcohol went down easy when I wasn't around.
I knew it but didn't know it.
I'm not an idiot; I'm pretty intelligent, actually.
It's just that hindsight is always 20/20.
You're just hanging out with friends, no big deal, I thought.
And you were fine; not mean or anything bad.
I hadn't figured everything out.
I questioned it in the back of my mind, surely not, but then again, according to your friends, you were drunk and being silly or maybe didn’t know what you were saying.
So I stayed.
Probably stayed far too long.
But things were so, so good before they turned south.
There are red flags I'll look for from now on in others.
When we were around each other in person, everything was wonderful.
You never drank.
It was when we were apart that you were someone else.
Or maybe you were someone else when you were around me?
Most of the time things were so pleasant.
Until they weren't.
I was kind.
I supported you, pointed to you to get help, which you did get.
But it was too late, sadly.
Too little, too late.
The old saying goes "Hurt people, hurt people."
You were dying inside and took it out on me with your words--
usually when you were drunk on the phone.
You were never like that in person.
It took me months to see that in you--your hurt.
I hurt for you once I found out that you had become depressed, once you admitted it.
I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t harm yourself.
You didn't love yourself.
At your rock bottom, I know you wanted to die.
In fact, I was sure one night you’d end up dead,
your mom, dad, or sister calling me after the deluge to tell me you’d been drinking and driving.
I told you this fear.
I told you why I wasn’t going anywhere.
I was scared to leave you alone.
I didn't want you to be or feel alone.
You needed someone in your corner.
I'm not sure you wanted that.
You never said that, but you didn't seem to want help from anyone.
You didn't know what you wanted yet.
Even me caring, that didn’t change much, but you did start seeking help.
Finally.
You had to find it within yourself to want to change.
I knew this.
I'm not here on this earth to fix anyone.
I didn't try to save you, which I told you, and you appreciated that, at least.
Yet you still hurt me on your way to rock bottom.
The alcohol went down easy for you, but forgiveness was and is harder to swallow.
I forgave you and asked for that in return for anything I’d done.
I meant every word.
You said you'd forgiven me.
I heard your words, but I'm not sure I'll ever believe them.
But this:
Beyond any hurt, any drink, anything that happened, there are more important things.
FAR more important things.
The most?
This: years later,
I’m glad you found what you needed.
Your peace.
Your sobriety.
THAT was late, but not too late.
You're never too late for a second chance at life.
You saved yourself; that's what matters.
And I'm glad you're alive.
19: Porosity
Author's Notes:
1. From Wikipedia: Porosity or void fraction is a measure of the void (i.e. "empty") spaces in a material, and is a fraction of the volume of voids over the total volume, between 0 and 1, or as a percentage between 0% and 100%. Strictly speaking, some tests measure the "accessible void", the total amount of void space accessible from the surface.
2. This poem is similar in structure to that of the chiastic structure or ring composition. Though this one is much more loose than others I’ve written, this poem does reverse in nature while not following the traditional norms of a chiastic poem.
3. This poem is pretty dark at the start, but if you knew how low of a place I was at, this is about as vulnerable as I've ever been about that time in my life.
Porosity
What are the empty and void places in my life?
It depends on the year or sometimes the day.
I've been void of many things.
I've felt void.
Like nothing or less than nothing, at my lowest.
Thought that maybe a bullet or any form of death would fill the cracks.
Finish it off.
That would only create voids for someone else, so I didn't end my life.
Lonely.
Unloved.
Rejected.
Not enough.
Not enough.
Not enough.
I've hidden and been nearly buried alive in caverns, caves, and crevasses that are better left in the past, never to be revisited.
Places that felt as if there was nothing that would ever fill with anything healing in nature.
But what if that space isn’t negative in its connotation?
What if it’s not about a void, not about empty space?
After all, the glass that some deem half empty is refillable.
Porous: It doesn't have to be synonymous with empty, void, or in need of filling.
I know I am whole all by myself, but that doesn't mean I want to be alone.
What if it's about having the ability to invite, be vulnerable, be an "accessible void," be a welcome mat, be an open door?
This porosity, it's how the light gets in.
This porosity, it gives me the ability to be permeated with all the things I didn't know I needed.
Yes, all of those.
And these:
I am a forgiven soul saying, "Let's start over."
I am a once broken heart, but now mended, saying, "Fill me. Pour into me."
I am an uncharted path, a trail, a road less traveled
--where the cascading of water or sand around stones may take some time to fill,
but oh, oh how it and I am worth the time it takes to surround, envelop, and enfold.
Every void. Every crack. Every part of imperfect me.
I am worth it, oh how I'm worth it.
20: Alone, but Not Lonely
"Miss you."
This was at the very end of a text I got one summer while on vacation. It seriously is one of my three favorite texts I've ever received, all of which I've saved.
I'd never missed someone so much in my life, and in those two words I realized I wasn't alone. I was also missed. Those two words made me melt.
Alone.
Lonely.
These are similar words, but not the same.
I've been alone a large, large majority of my life.
I love my independence even though I don't think about it that much.
I'm good at staying busy and being creative.
When I was a very young child, I had an enormous, creative imagination where I'd play basketball or baseball games by myself because my brother hated losing to me (true story)--creating team and teammate names. I was alone, but not lonely.
I still have a very active and creative imagination which I tap into at work and in my personal life, but thank God, no imaginary friends. I'm often a visionary who will think up the one thought no one else in the room did, and I'm proud of that gift. I'm completely capable of dreaming, daydreaming, and lucid dreaming up almost any thought my brain wants to think up. I'm alone, but not lonely.
I travel solo at least once a year, which I rather enjoy, even though I prefer company. Again, alone, but not lonely.
I do about 98% of my running, weight lifting, biking, and swimming training alone. I don't get lonely on anything except long bike rides.
I have a zillion hobbies I also do alone: cooking, baking, photography, writing, dog sitting/walking, song writing, singing, playing the guitar, and taking hot epsom salt and bubble baths.
And then there is lonely.
I wouldn't say that word describes me ever, but if I'm being honest, I more like than dislike having someone special in my life or at least having someone in my life that misses me enough to say it.
Currently, I don't necessarily want to be in a relationship, and I don't envy many (if any) of my friends' relationships, but damn--I unquestionably miss having someone just to hold and kiss. I'd give anything to have those right now.
Not because I'm alone or lonely, but because it's just part of who I am, and when I'm feeling mentally healthy, loving, confident, sexy, and physically strong, I just want to give and share those things with someone.
Alone but not lonely...
It's not a bad thing.
And maybe someday soon I'll be able to share all I have that I miss giving. Because I "Miss you."
So much.
21: The Last Day
The last day of my five or six months of therapy, I sat there ready to try this life thing on my own again. The sun shining through the windows on the north side of my therapist's office had me smiling and feeling somewhat confident. Yet, still I walked out the door feeling fragile--like a half made pinata with masking tape and glue sticking to the balloon underneath.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I told myself twice.
You're strong.
You can see the light now.
Summer is here.
Healing has come.
I stepped out of the office and headed to my car.
I won't ever be back, I muttered. I am free. I am finally me again.
Sometimes talking yourself into something is the impetus needed to breathe, move, survive.
And there I was, ready to do all three again on my own.
PART FOUR: YOU, & ALL I AM NOT
Part of depression stems from others and how they treated you in the mix of various life situations. I wrote most of the following to get through conversations I never got to have or about people who made my depression difficult or even worse. Some are about one person. Others are about several. Did I send them any of these writings? Not that I can recall. However, each time I penned one, it was very cathartic.
The Conversation IV
I figured it out.
You did?
Yeah. We were supposed to be together. But then I was cut out of the equation.
You did figure it out.
It still doesn’t make me feel any better, but at least now I know why I’m alone.
____________________________________________________________
And probably why I’m better off.
2: Your Door
The hurt.
It doesn't leave.
When you feel, feel everything,
have deep love, kindness like I do,
it never leaves.
it never leaves.
It changes, yes.
But the unresolved?
Until they're resolved,
of course it still cuts deep.
For someone who supposedly doesn’t want anything to do with me
You seem to care a lot.
But I’m not sure about what.
If I knew the secret to fixing this,
the secret to everything being okay,
I'd have fixed it yesterday
and today things would be okay...
and
I'd be at your door.
When you look at people like they're ghosts
they can't walk right through you
walk right through you
Know you're not alone,
they're still alive
So let them back in
Let them back in
Let me back in
Let me be your friend
Remember:
My darkest nights are gone
Though oceans of tears sometimes still come
But the depression is washed away
Who I’ve rebuilt remains
And you don’t know the new me
I put myself back together differently
Better than before
I’m better than before
I’m different than before
So remember that next time you let me walk into your door.
Just let me back in your door.
When you look at people like they're ghosts
they can't walk right through you
walk right through you
Know you're not alone,
they're still alive
So let them back in
Let them back in
Let me back in
Let me be your friend
If I knew the secret to fixing this,
the secret to everything be okay,
I'd have fixed it yesterday
and today things would be okay...
and
I'd be at your door.
Please open the door.
Remember:
Mine never closed.
3: Mirror
Remember:
What you feel for me,
or what you feel that rages any negative thought like hate or disdain against me,
is a mirror.
It’s all inside you.
None of it is or ever has been or ever will be about me.
4: The Best Thing
In order to start a new life
You sat down and started to write
A story that once was once half mine
But is now just lies
Your half is lies
Because You can’t rewrite the past
To amend your sins
Erase my name
Hide your shame.
It doesn’t work that way.
My story isn’t yours for the taking.
Good luck sleeping and waking
Living with yourself and karma
My ghost? Nah she won’t harm ya.
But she will haunt you till your dying day
Because I’m still alive ...
Of all the things I could ever have dreamed of
You became my greatest demon
But you were the best thing
Because now I know who I am
You were the best thing the best thing the best thing
Because (I know) I’m better off alone
Of all the things I’ve realized
Someday soon I’ll wake and find
All I ever dreamed by my side
You know it could’ve been you
Could’ve been you
You were the best thing
To walk away
5: Ghost
I’m not a ghost.
You can’t walk through me.
Over me.
Ignore me.
But maybe I haunt you?
That’s your thoughts, your dreams, your words, not mine.
I’m as real as they come.
Even if you don’t want to see or believe in me.
6: Spellbinding
Your genius was magic
It fooled every time.
I, believing, fell into line.
With all of your illusions,
Captivated was I.
Naive and believing
Each one of your lies.
Was it a spell
Was it hell?
I couldn’t tell,
I couldn’t tell.
7: Nothing To Lose
Pull out a sheet of paper.
Write down this question:
What do I have to lose?
Under it,
write this answer:
Nothing.
You have NOTHING to lose with me in any facet.
And if you think you do, you must have forgotten who I am.
8: GFY
Go fuck yourself.
That’s what I screamed the day you were replaced.
You couldn’t hear me.
You were already dead.
You left us in such a mess.
I don’t want to hate you.
I don’t want to be angry.
I get why you killed yourself.
But that doesn’t make it right.
For a whole month I couldn’t turn my brain off.
All I saw was you, gun to your head, last moments and a phone call.
Heard the screams of everyone who loved you, losing you.
I have a very vivid imagination.
So I saw everything I never saw.
And all of this became everything I couldn’t unsee.
It triggered my past.
I had no idea it would.
It opened up a portal to my own world of the dead, my underworld.
That I guess wasn’t dead.
So I left for a while to heal.
Travel and nature.
My mind. I let it unwind on a beach, in the rainforest, in the clouds.
I healed.
But that doesn’t mean this won’t hurt for a long time, if not the rest of my life.
On that note?
I forgive you, but for the love.
The mess we are left with.
The deluge.
9: Want/Need
I have everything I’ve ever wanted or needed.
I don’t want you like you think I do.
Need you.
Am not waiting on something or you.
And haven’t been for a long time.
But you haven’t asked...
Because you don’t care?
Or just don’t have it in you to have the decency of a conversation.
You can’t give what you don’t have.
10: Checkmate
Life isn't a game.
But you can act like it is.
Yes, play with hearts and friends like it is.
It's your world, your lies and half-truths.
No one will ever know, you tell yourself.
No one will ever know if I only tell part of the story.
But, oh.
They know.
They'll eventually find out.
If they don't already know...
I might have told them.
Because the full truth always rises to the surface.
Truth always wins.
There are moves, sometimes, you can only see so far ahead with.
It's a balance.
It's a give and take.
But it's not always my game, my rules,
so each move I make,
I might unknowingly be backing myself into a corner.
Checkmate.
Or maybe not.
Though I may play by my own rules,
it's still that: by the rules.
And always veritas.
11: Truth and Lies
Truth, you are.
Yet you tell a lot of half-truths.
I know them all.
I lived through them.
I heard them repeated back to me from friends.
Friends who are playing you.
They know the full story.
They’ve told me everything.
I took things too far?
Ha.
Speak for yourself, not me.
I have proof it was mutual.
I scare you?
Please.
Don’t get me started about that side of you.
I was your best friend,
but you miss me still?
You actually miss me?
Prove it.
Because you’re still gone.
12: Q & A
I have so many questions.
Some I've answered for myself, even if they're lies.
I don't care.
I'd rather have an answer than nothing at all.
I can believe myself.
At least I tell the truth.
Not implying you don't.
So many questions.
Unanswered.
In my mind, a list.
I'll probably never ask.
Some I already have.
Silence is an answer, too, they say.
..."They"... pshhhh
I say just give an answer.
I guess you have the right to remain silent.
"I don't have to answer that" that guy said back in the 80s.
I don't blame him.
But I do.
So really,
What are you afraid of?
If you're scared, maybe it's because I mean something.
I'm the one without fear.
Sort of.
I'm still afraid sometimes.
Afraid of crossing a line I didn’t know about.
Not THE line.
Afraid of losing you twice.
Do you ever think of that night?
It was "a dream." Damn.
Do you ever feel guilty about cutting me off?
Did you know you hurt me?
And did it hurt you thinking about that fact?
Did you lose sleep?
Cry?
Hurt, too?
Do you regret any of everything?
Even I can't answer that last question, to be honest.
Do you have emotions?
Just kidding. I know you do. Well, sort of do.
Me? I felt all of them.
And you had butterflies. We both did.
Maybe you still get them.
I think you do.
Just a hunch.
Ask me if I do.
I dare you.
13: The One Who Paid
Spin me around a thousand times
Look me in the eye
Say this wasn’t just me
That I’m not alone here.
Because I'm alone.
Or am I?
If I am,
I’m the one who paid when it was all said and done.
There was no fallout
No broken heart
No years of darkness
Nothing but an end of some sort
For you.
I’m the one who paid.
Greatly.
And almost my life.
Or did you too?
PART FIVE: TALKING MYSELF BACK INTO MYSELF
Fake it till you make it. You’ve heard that mantra before. This section is solely about that. A collection of many poems and essays I wrote to help me find myself again. Some of them will come across very confident. Others perhaps over the top. But when you lose yourself and have to find you all over again, this, too, is a process. These writings brought me back to finding me.
The Conversation V
I don’t know a single soul out there who is killing it.
Really? I feel like I'm like 98% killing it. Isn’t that good enough?
____________________________________________________________
Who makes the rules about this stuff?
2: Revolution
I’m a revolution.
Me.
My mind.
My body.
I exist in places that were not meant for me.
So do you.
I’ve been told my whole life I don’t belong by those who pretend they do.
So have you.
I’ve felt the longing to be where I’m not.
For a home I do not yet know where or when or how.
To be where I finally belong.
Do you feel it?
Have you felt it?
Besides in my mind, in their glances, in their words and snide remarks, sometimes it’s a place.
Time.
Other people's lives.
The 40 year old who isn’t a mom but who wishes her friends with kids didn’t mind.
The single gal who wishes her married friends didn’t mind.
The white gal who wishes her BIPOC friends didn’t mind.
Gay-straight.
Christian-Athesist.
Privilege-none.
Rich-poor.
In all the antitheses.
It’s in the other.
Oh, but don’t mind the other.
The other feels just that: other.
Yes, please don’t mind she who isn’t you.
So the revolution?
It’s to be you.
Exist.
Know you belong.
And let others do the same.
3: Dear 40 Year Old Me
Dear 40 year old me,
This is the last few weeks of being 40.
Is life everything you thought it would be?
Yes. It's everything I wanted it to be and more.
Things I always wanted: a good job, fun, travel, dogs, decent health.
Surprises: shattering. Things I never thought I'd be. And love. So much love.
Unwanted phantoms: Heartbreak. Death. Hate. Backstabbing. Lies and half-truths.
But those who live that way will have their whole lives to pay--prisoners in their own minds and to their lies.
I'll tell my own story. I'll tell the truth I've already been telling. Living.
Why is life so difficult?
Why are some people so unrelenting? Mean? Malevolent?
What is my future?
Most of the time, I feel like I know what I want.
I really do.
Love that lasts forever.
To love and be loved in return.
To let this feeling that I've had my entire life, that I belong to no one and nothing and nowhere, be my contended wanderlust.
To see the world.
To climb every mountain with strength and dignity.
To never let the grass grow under my feet.
To be kind. So kind and good and full of love and grace and forgiveness that that is my legacy.
To give the 2nd chance I never got.
To be the one you can't forget.
To be the one if you could see my mind, my heart, you'd know.
Oh, you'd know.
Or maybe you already do.
There aren't a lot of people like me.
How do I know?
I just do.
My best friends have told me.
But they don't define me.
I define me.
There is no one else like me.
And no one else I'd rather be.
You may have a day, a year, another 40 more.
This year has taught you to slow down and live in the moment, as cliche as it is.
Keep your head high, little fighter.
Every ounce of goodness, brokenness, darkness and light, has molded every sinew and bone of your being.
Be light.
Be grace.
Be mercy.
Be love.
Be you.
Always,
A
4: Bulletproof
Dear Love,
6 feet tall and bulletproof.
5: Never
I never give up.
Persistent.
It’s not about losing.
It’s about boldness.
Kindness.
Doing this life right.
And not losing people close to me.
Don’t hate me.
I don’t hate you.
And I, I
NEVER give up.
I won’t.
I don’t give up on me.
I almost did once.
So I won’t give up on you.
6: The Beginning and the End
I can see it clear as sunshine.
The end at the beginning.
This. This is why a glorious imagination is also a curse.
I can not only imagine a life WITH you,
I can also see it unravel before my eyes.
You walk in and steal my breath, my heart, my eyes.
And in the same moment of pure bliss,
joy, the most vulnerable of all emotions, interlocks with screams, heart break, and tears.
Oh, heart.
Bring me the beginning of the rest of my life.
And let me see a new end that will never end…
7: Primer
If there was a primer on how to be alone.
How to be lonely.
How to rock this world as an independent woman.
How to not find your person. Yet.
How to be loyal as the day is long.
How to feel everything greatly.
How to be the best friend ever.
How to love without borders.
How to be yourself.
I wrote it.
8: Wonder Woman and RGB
When you were born, well, at least when you were growing up, did you know how great you’d one day be?
RBG.
Did you?
Deep inside me, I believe I was made for greatness.
That I am great.
I list off all my life accomplishments.
I’m pretty damn awesome if my resume and completed bucket list items were all you saw.
But those are the outside.
Inward me. Contemplative me. One on one me. That’s the even deeper me.
I could list off my loves and losses.
People have said some really nice things about me.
I love passionately. Intensely.
Like no one you’ve ever known.
So much so it‘s made some liars out of people.
What do you do with me?
Just that, I suppose, even though karma says I’ve never deserved those things on any level.
But the lies and all my losses keep me humble.
So does my mom and best friends.
The lies. They’re the hurdles I jump in my mind.
They’re the lies I shoot down everyday.
I am not the sum of my former fears, my anxiety, my darkest nights, my maddening nightmares.
These are not me.
I am a tour de force.
I am a hurricane.
I am a quiet whisper.
I am love, kindness, passion, unequivocal goodness.
If you could see my heart.
I know my worth.
Perhaps I’m Wonder Woman.
Perhaps I’m not.
Perhaps a woman of wonder.
After all...
I’m not a superhero.
I am, however, the heroine of my own life.
Many people have saved me, yes.
But I also wake up everyday and choose to save myself from any crevasse, middle earth trying to pull me under.
Every woman, we can be a work of art.
Wonder.
All the things they tell us we’ll never be.
So fuck them all and the status quo.
Be you.
That—is the true wonder.
9: Poison
I once read:
If love were poison,
we'd drink it anyway.
I'd be dead by now.
I've drank it enough times to know I love love.
Enough to know that dating is blase.
Honestly?
Just get me to the start of the ending:
A wedding, a promise, a forever.
I hate that I crave it and all of its friends--companionship, making love, giving all of me, calling someone mine, touch, touch, touch, kisses, holding hands, sweet whispers, friendship, waking up in the middle of the night with your person, doting on someone.
Oh, I'm ALL in.
I don't want any cheap imitations of it.
I've had those too.
But I miss it.
And, yes, its friends.
I was born to love, it seems.
And love was born to elude me.
So I wake up each day and choose to be in love with everything.
I choose to at minimum, love me.
Because, as odd as it may sound, if you wouldn't marry yourself, you won't love anyone else right.
Self-love.
Love you.
Then, the rest can indulge in something so sweet that they didn't even know love like that was real.
10: A Generous Orthodoxy
The phrase a "Generous Orthodoxy," comes from a theologian named Hans Frei.
It’s an oxymoron, of course.
To be orthodox is to be committed to tradition.
To be generous, as Frei defines it, is to be open to change.
But Frei thought the best way to live our lives was to find the middle ground because orthodoxy without generosity leads to blindness, and generosity without orthodoxy is shallow and empty.
One of the hardest things in the world is to find that balance.
Not just for those pursuing a life of faith but for anyone interested in making their world, their LIFE better.
I think of traditions I've held in my life related to family, heritage, upbringing, religion, place, time.
Things like prayers before a meal.
Opening presents on Christmas Eve.
Communion on Sundays.
Drinking wine the night before the first day of work in the Fall.
These are some of my favorites.
Others are too rigid, so I shed them.
Left.
Broke away.
Perhaps that is part of the generosity that Frei speaks of.
I was open to change, then I did.
I've found in recent years that the hard part isn't the generous orthodoxy inside me.
It's having to explain myself to so many.
Explain my beliefs.
My spirituality.
Everyone has so many questions.
I quit giving answers.
I was tired.
Why do I have to explain myself away?
Don't get me wrong.
I LOVE talking about religion and beliefs and spirituality.
But not when it's me standing up for myself.
That's not a conversation.
That's an argument I'll never win.
And I desire conversation.
I think part of Frei's phrase is that grace you allow yourself when you ARE tired of the arguments.
Tired of standing up for yourself.
And so, grace.
With yourself.
Permission to breathe, relax, be you, and not be taxed by what others think or want you to do or believe.
Being generous with yourself is allowing THOSE changes to enter in.
Those are the ones that bring peace in the first place.
And tradition? Rituals? Anything along those lines?
There is always time to start your own.
When it boils down to it, I want within me humanity and a higher power that speaks to my faith and is all things good.
Speaks of kindness.
Speaks of hope.
Speaks of forgiveness.
Speaks of love.
Because without these, life is empty.
And with?
Yes, these are the greatest.
11: Grief
I read once "grief is love with no place to go."
Alone, I have a choice then,
to grieve to have been grieving most of my life
or love everything and everyone.
I have chosen the latter.
Pain, heartache, loss, the all still exist even with love present,
and yes, even with grief,
but each day I wake up and choose it all over again: love.
Everyone. Everything. Every second.
Then, and only then,
I'm focused on what I'm giving,
not what I've lost or am losing.
12: Old Soul
I’m an old soul some days.
Books and red wine.
Deep conversations and fireflies.
Sunsets and the sun rising.
Slow dancing and deep kisses.
All the things I’m missing when they’re not there.
Reminiscing.
Daydreaming.
Loving.
Twirling in the breeze.
Candlelight and poetry.
Letters in the mail.
Handwritten, at that.
Finding myself in the woods.
Wildflowers and wild and free.
Old soul.
Me.
13: The High Road
I know who I am.
Remember that line.
A lot of people don't know who they are.
They believe the lies in their head.
They believe the lies of others.
THAT is why you must know who you are.
"To thine own self be true."
Over the past few years I’ve had some once close friends and co-workers of mine really criticize some parts of my life. Call me some pretty harsh names. Make some insanely bold accusations. Thank goodness 2020 came along, and then Covid allowed for a little reprieve from some of the drama.
I was told that I'm not going to church or reading the Bible enough. (did anyone even ask if I was doing those things or just assume?) That they couldn’t believe I wasn’t dating anyone or trying at the time. Asking if I’d ever be a parent. Questioning why I still live where I live. That I haven’t done A or B. My haircut is too short. My Tommy Hilfiger boots I got from my aunt look like a hipster lumberjack. I had another person change a story about something that happened between the two of us and lie about it to a mutual friend who already has known the truth for years. I had some students make fun of my haircut and outfit (and a few harassed me and I had to report them). Those are just a few. Petty things for the most part. But some really, really hurt.
Things in the past I don't care to look back on.
All before 2020.
They’ve said some really messed up and/or hurtful things and called me names. That I'm mean. I’ve been told "that's not how you are." And “people actually don't really like you.” What??? “You’re a jackass.” “You’re not really happy.”
And almost all of those who said those things?
People I'd call my friends.
And ones who I've never been mean to a day in my life. Ever.
I'm not mean.
And I'm pretty happy for the time being and when they said all these things to me last year or a few years ago right after my depression had lifted.
Wow.
A pretty impressive list, right?
What's funny and very interesting? EVERY single one of these people couldn't list any examples when I asked for some, or even one. Not a single one could list anything specific. I will not be walked over or talked down to. I talked to a close friend of mine, who is also a counselor, and listed these things off and explained each context, and she was even present for a few of the situations that occurred.. I asked this person to be both honest and objective with me even though we are friends. "Girl, I've been friends with you for a while. You're not any of these things, and I wouldn't lie to you. You're doing well. No one gets to try to make you feel like you are less than them. When people do or say things like this they're projecting or gaslighting you." Oh I know it. They can't acknowledge the truth about something in their own life. I could give a laundry list on each of them, but that would be pointless.
When I've stood up for myself or responded, even my responses often got railed. "How is that even a reason?" "I didn't say that to you." "You're making things up. You made that up." Again, gaslighting.
After the last one, I questioned for a brief moment if I'd imagined some of these things. No. I heard them correctly. That's what the other person wants you to believe--that you're wrong. You're crazy. Your story isn't the real story.
Gaslighting.
Narcissists.
Projectors.
Who do these people think they are???
I'm not an idiot.
I read the DSM for fun.
I have no words for situations like these. I don’t want to let them bother me. I’m in the middle of life doing very well, and I want and need good, supportive friends, not ones who want to nit-pick at me. I don’t need other people’s stupid comments or their created drama in my life. Drama is the last thing I like. At all.
So I least stand up for myself, be me, and keep rolling. After talking with my counselor buddy, I've come to see that these people aren’t happy. A lot of people who aren’t are the first to criticize or comment on others. Maybe they think because I’m not doing what I’ve done before or another time that I should be doing B instead of A. I seriously have no clue. I’m not losing sleep over it.
Karma will have her way with these liars and meanie-heads, as my best friend from high school used to call bullies.
Karma will make you pay.
I hurt. Don't get me wrong.
This soul feels EVERYTHING deeply.
I hurt deeply and for a long time, though I don't hold grudges.
BUT
I refuse to be mean.
I refuse to get back at anyone.
I will hold my integrity and self in check because it's the right thing, but also because that's who I am.
I haven’t been called the sweetest thing to ever happen to someone for no reason.
I will not apologize for being unabashedly me--sweet, kind, loving, creative, soulful, empathically me.
I know who I am.
I will take the high road even if I'm hurt by someone else's lies and words.
After all, that's where the best views are!
14: Power
In a world where power and control are king,
I ask nothing,
nothing I bring.
No,
I long for peace, kindness, love alone.
Moments of brightness,
feeling at home.
When I feel I've no voice,
when I’m not heard by your ears,
I'll use my words by the pen
where they‘ll at least last for years.
15: Risk
“And then there is the most dangerous risk of all -- the risk of spending your life not doing what you want on the bet you can buy yourself the freedom to do it later.”
I have risked it all.
To be who I am.
To be where I am.
To be in love.
To be with anyone.
To be.
To travel to new places.
To let people in.
To hide myself away.
To find myself again.
To find who I always was.
Risk isn't a lie.
And it's not a joke.
Risk:
vulnerability at it's epitome--
an impetus,
as one sits on a precipice between
fear
and regret
and time that your immortal self cannot buy later.
16: Good as Gold
I used to think I was unbreakable until I broke.
Then you threw me to the wolves.
Found out I was good as gold.
Throw me under buses
And under lies
That’s fine.
At least I only have to remember one thing, the truth,
Unlike you who has to remember the truth and the lies.
Must be an amazing thing, your mind.
(I say that sarcastically, tongue in cheek.)
But really...
What a sad, sad life.
That you care enough to have nothing else to do.
When you could’ve just reconciled.
17: My Mind
If you entered in, walked around
You’d be safe
But not exactly sound
Imagination running wild
Like I could live inside these walls for life
It’s a whole other world in my mind
Worlds of things never said
All I can’t erase
Events that will never be
Love I lost
So much hurt and pain I can’t get past some days.
A future hurt I can avoid if I just remain alone
But who wants to be alone?
Love I long for
The love that eludes
Yet still I imagine the one I love
My mind also holds my heart
Cracked-- but that’s how the light gets in
Broken but rebuilt
Still here for the taking
Yours for the taking
I can’t say it
How do I tell you?
I’m yours if you’d just say so…
18: Love and Independence
I love my independence.
I also love love.
Some days I tell myself that I’d trade the former for the latter in a heartbeat.
Well, maybe not trade.
You can’t trade things like this in real life.
It doesn’t work that way.
Some days I feel like I’d gladly move from being one person to being "as one."
But do know: I’m not a half. I’m a whole person.
So I’m not looking for a better half.
A lot of the time, love is so much better than being on my own.
I love being on my own, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the feeling of being with someone.
Giving all of me and everything to someone.
I can't fully explain it.
I just feel like I'm better.
It's the fallout that's the struggle.
Anytime love ends, I just don't want to go back and try to find it again.
It's a dichotomy that tears me up some days.
Because some days my heart is just full of love with nowhere to go.
Which ironically is a definition of grief.
Love.
I have a list of what it is and why I feel what I do.
I’ve met less than a handful of people who had a similar definition as me in my life.
And I’ve written about it many, many times.
Independence and being yourself are two very different things.
And I am smart enough to know that you can be independently you and still be with someone.
People should be that.
Too many are so dependent on another.
I’m annoyed by those who live out married or unmarried relationships like this.
It doesn’t make sense, that level of codependency.
It’s not healthy, sometimes a little creepy, and a little messed up.
Love.
I love hard.
Intensely, but in a good way.
Passionately is probably a better word.
I’m all in.
The way you do one thing is the way you do everything is what I’ve heard.
I think that’s true about me.
Love: I give it all the time.
All day.
Sweet words.
Hugs.
Kisses.
Surprises.
Snuggles.
Touch.
I love touch.
Telling you you’re everything I’ve dreamed of and more.
The most beautiful and perfect one on earth.
Do anything for you.
Ask and it’s done.
Some can’t handle any or all of this.
I’ve also found you accept the love you think you deserve.
And because of that, some don’t deserve me.
That’s on them, not me.
I know what I deserve.
Love and independence don’t make me weak or strong or anything along those lines.
Well, maybe they make me a strong and well rounded person.
They make me deep, exceptional, enough.
More than enough.
And those who’ve been loved by me know that’s a fact.
I don’t have to use words to show you how I feel.
Actions.
Touch.
Support in the silences.
And when I’m not loving someone, every ounce of me exudes my love for life and the ability to go and do whatever, whenever.
My self-love exists not out of pretense, but out of a place of self-care.
And all of these make me, independently me and one of a kind.
And one day, when I fall in love again, I can't wait to show the person with me all of the above...
They better believe they DESERVE me! :)
19: Born
"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why."
They say find what you love and let it kill you.
They say find your passion. They say follow your heart.
I’ve done all of the above and here I am still alive.
For now.
What were you born to do?
I was born to run.
Born to shine.
Born to live unabashedly out loud.
Born to live fearlessly and without regret.
Born to feel. Everything.
Born to never let the grass grow under my feet.
Born to coach.
Born to teach.
Born passionate in every facet of the word.
Born to write.
Born to be wild, free, and untamed.
Born to be with those who are just as wild and independent as I am.
And I—I was born to love.
20: Iceberg
I’m an iceberg.
The best of me is to be seen.
Only for a serious diver to get to know all of me.
Take the time.
I’m deeper than the words I write.
I’m a canyon.
You can see part of me, both far away and within,
But so many parts are still obscured.
Winding towards and away from you.
Take the path or the river.
Explore it all.
Something new, wonderful, is around every bend.
I’m the moon.
Also, the best parts are hidden.
But not all of the time.
I reflect so you can see.
Reflect you, the sun.
Always there to help you slow down, appreciate an evening even more.
I'm the sun.
Golden.
Warm.
Constant.
Fiery, yet bright.
Full of life.
And rarely changing.
I'm a little bit of these metaphors and more.
Sometimes less.
Never perfect, yet still quintessentially me.
Unique.
21: I’m Your Gal
“I'll sway like a tree when you need a change
I'll travel the world or stay in one place
I'll hold your hand when the storm's at the door
'Cause you got my back and I got yours”
- Maren Morris, “Good Woman”
If you need someone to come home to,
I’m your gal.
Someone who’s not perfect but will never cheat or leave—
that’s me.
Someone who will love beyond measure, love without end—
where do I begin?
Someone to do anything, serve from my depths—
till my last breath.
Someone to dance with you in a burning room... or maybe just your kitchen—
I’m in.
Someone who will write you poetry and read books till we fall asleep—
that’s me.
Someone gentle, yet also strong in every sense of the word—
I’m that girl.
Someone to hold you through the night or just always be near—
I’m here.
Someone to calm every sad moment, talk through every fear—
I'll always be here.
Someone who will subtly dote and surprise and sneak you kisses day and night—
that’s right.
Someone to make sure every moment feels like your best dreams—
that's me.
Someone to ignite every passionate spark, butterflies, and a fire you didn’t know you still had—
Hot damn.
I’m your gal.
Someone to walk beside you independently, yet be your biggest fan and partner in crime—
be mine.
Someone who will be with you to slay dragons, climb mountains, and chase dreams—
you, yes you... run away with me.
I'll be your gal.
You won't regret it at all.
Yes, you can choose me.
22: The Fighter
One year, a former student of mine wrote this to me: "One word is really hard to describe you..... Inspirational was the first that came to mind..... But fighter is what I'm going to put ...... You fight to show others great things are possible, you fight for those who can't right for themselves, you fight to share your struggles and let others know struggles are real and it's ok. So you are a fighter. And I am grateful to know you."
When I was in college, a professor of mine, wrote all of us students a sentence that he thought best described us. I don't have my paper copy anymore, but remember it vividly. He wrote to me that I was a woman who would stand up for what is right even if I’m standing alone.
If you've read anything I’ve ever written or know me, you know that I've had others see things in me I didn't always see in myself. However, when my professor wrote that to me many years ago, and when my student shared those kind words, I already knew they were right. I'd already been standing up for what was right--and fighting--for years. Whether it was via an editorial in our school newspaper where I was the editor for three years, taking something for the student body to our principal as Student Council president, or letting our new counselor at school know that the new grading system we put into place my senior year wasn't indicative of our true grades over the past three years, as a teen I was bold, brave, and unabashedly confident and self-assured in front of anyone, teen or adult. When none of my classmates would stand up to a bully at school who would pick on anyone religious, I did. Years later, she remembered that about me--that I wouldn't waver despite the taunting.
Even as an adult, and specifically in my current job, my co-workers use the word "ballsy" to describe me on a regular basis. "You use the phrase 'it's just not right! It's not okay!' often," one of my friends told me. She's right. I have a sense of "rightness" and integrity, and when it comes to how a person should be treated, how workers should be treated, and how, well, just anyone should be treated, I don't back down from my convictions. Do I stand up to everyone? Oh no. But more often than not, I'm the one who goes to bat for someone such as a new teacher or for the group when push comes to shove. I know no good deed goes unpunished, however. So sometimes my integrity comes with having a target, and that hurts. A lot. I'm not immune to or unaware of the consequences of my courage. Putting yourself out there often comes with a price. More recently, I've been trying to pick and choose my battles better and surround myself with others as a protective, yet united, shield. Strength in numbers, right?
When I was in my 20s, I remember recalling my dad talking about how my brother was sick a lot as a baby and kid, and that he always was a fighter.
I'm the fighter, is what I wanted to tell Dad.
Dad continued: "He's tough. Even when he was older, he was always fighting."
I don't remember this about my brother. I remember him getting strep throat a lot. I remember he missed far more school than I did. But fighter? Never. The only real fight I ever remember my brother getting into was with me. He'd antagonize me then run away. I couldn't catch him most of the time. If I did, I'd beat the living daylights out of him, though, and I'd get in huge trouble. He NEVER got caught for messing with me or mouthing me in the first place! He was a pipsqueak of a kid, but athletic--110lbs and 5 foot 7 inches when he graduated high school, so you can imagine his bigger (by 30lbs), older sister not having an issue with making him cry if I caught him. And I don't want you to think that I got into fights or get into fights. I'm not that kind of person. I've never been that person. My brother is the only person I've ever punched.
I am, however, the gal that my former student describes me as, and as my professor described me half my life ago. I have a feeling this will never change about me.
I'm the one who hates losing and doesn't back down.
I'm the one who never gives up on anyone or anything, not even myself.
I'm the one who doesn't always believe in prayer, but like the persistent widow who is merely a metaphor in a parable, I still pray believing every single prayer will be answered in my favor.
I'm the one to show others great things are possible by how I live my life.
I'm one of many strong women still living in, sadly, a man's world.
Don't believe me? I didn't even get an interview for a basketball job one year to assist with a boys' team. The two hired? Both of them combined had less experience than me alone. Not to mention, men are hired all the time to coach women's sports.
I'm the one who has been hit over and over again with tedium by those above me, even though I more than do my job. I've even had to file for FMLA one year to protect myself from a supervisor who was targeting me.
And I'm the one who knows what it's like to lose, but learn from it and get up and learn from the TKO. I've wanted to give up so many times, but I never do.
Most of the time, fights don't look like a true "fight"--they come in everyday settings, everyday situations, and in everyday work clothes.
The fight isn't always something dramatic, either. In fact, I'd argue most of them aren't. Most of the time it's the marginalized looking for not a hero, but a friend or an advocate.
Someone who cares. And I care. So much.
Someone to stand in the gap.
Someone who isn't scared.
Someone with empathy.
Someone with grit.
Someone who has been there.
Someone who says, "I've got the gloves and the training, now let's step in the ring and do this!"
So if you've been through plenty in your life and know to do right or know how to help out, do it.
You, too, be a fighter.
Someone needs you.
And you know what?
That someone might just be your own self.
23: Passionate and Inimitable
Passionate & Inimitable
"The way you do one thing is the way you do everything," I read a few months ago in a magazine article about a former college basketball player who lives out this motto everyday in her new line of work. I meditated on that quote for a few days before it finally hit me: Wow, she's right.
How do you do your one thing?
What's your one thing?
I'm not 100% hung up on the idea that my one thing is what I'm about to write about, but I know it's close.
Passionate.
Inimitable.
That's how I live most of the time.
It's how I do most of the things in my life.
Growing up, I was taught from a religious thought process and grew up in a household where I was expected to work hard because God asks: to give all with your full heart. From a family standpoint, my parents modeled hard work that was unrivaled by anyone I knew. I didn't know any better, yes, but also I was not about to let Jesus and my parents down. So doing things full heart became my M.O. I was taught to be unique and myself: no one else can be you. I lived that out, too.
I was known as the student and athlete who never gave up. The creative kid in my class. My cousin called me "Consistent Amy" in high school. "You never waver," she'd tell me. My coaches knew I was the hardest working athlete out there and hated losing. I was coachable and cared. No one wanted to win more than me. My classroom work was the same: it was straight As for me, but also no one was going to imitate me. I was always striving to come up with a project that no one else was going to do.
Those things about me haven't changed since I was a child--that wavering, my passion, my hard work, being inimitable, matchless, and quintessentially me. I've found as an adult that I've learned and am always learning a lot about myself. It's a balance of self-reflection and meditation.
Things like:
That sometimes I've had to outwork a man. A co-worker. A tough student. But I do it with everything I have.
I've found that I'm hard on myself. I always have been. I don't beat myself up, but I sure don't ever want to let myself down.
That I have extremely high expectations for my own personal integrity and work ethic. Do I screw up? Yes, but over the past few years I've started to be more proactive about owning my shit. It's not easy. At all. It's humbling. But I learn from these moments.
That I'm passionate about and in relationships and friendships. Yes, the connotation of that word changes depending on the person/relationship/friendship, but what doesn't change is me. I give my all in these facets of life, as well.
I've found that others recognize my passion and those who really care about me recognize and foster my creativity. While getting my second masters, my advisor was writing several letters of recommendation for me for some grants and in every letter she wrote, "If I could choose one word to describe her it would be passionate. She is passionate about equity, justice and tolerance. She is the champion of the marginalized and works tirelessly to improve the lives of her students. Amy is also a gifted writer and photographer, capturing her travels with a literal and figurative investigative lens." What a huge compliment to be recognized as such by an education professional with her doctorate and nearly 30 years worth of experience.
My Ironman coach noted that she loves how I live my best life every damn day.
I don't say any of these things to brag. I say them because passion and being one of a kind are contagious and inspiring and something others recognize. It's also, I believe, something that connects you to other passionate people. My mentor/advisor and my coach? Both are very passionate people. Some of my closest friends? Passionate people. Do-ers. Those who have a zest for life and quality time. Some are creative. Some are passionate about being creative. haha. ;)
And the thing about your "one thing" is that it doesn't have to be about anything special. It just has to be about you and your talents and interests.
I have a lot of passions and unique quirks.
I'm passionate about making sure my students pass and learn.
I'm passionate about health and fitness.
I'm passionate about talking about mental health.
I'm passionate when I am with someone special.
I'm passionate about traveling and experiencing new things.
I like the smell of new books.
I prefer to eat dessert first. You know, in case I die.
I'm the rarest female personality of the Meyers-Briggs personality test.
I care. A lot. (and often try to put up a front, but I'm trying to be more vulnerable!)
To name a few...
Because the way I do one thing, yes, is the way I do most everything.
I want to be the best version of myself. Always.
And I wouldn't want it any other way.
PART FIVE: THE HEALING
How do you know when you’re out of the woods?
I started to have one good day next to another and next to another. And then I realized it. At a photography retreat I attended in the middle of my depression, I realized I’d had three good days in a row and made sure to point it out to my new friends. Sadly, I crashed again a few months later. After my five to six months of counseling, I remember walking out of the office feeling ready yet unsure of myself.
Healing came in waves.
It came from more than one source.
Honestly, I know I’m still healing.
1: The Conversation, Part VI. A conversation with Grief, personified.
Come sit with me for a while.
I don't want to be here. I don't want to sit with you. I didn't invite you here. Oh, and I don't want YOU here.
I understand. However, I'm not leaving.
I see that. You should. It would help me out a little.
You can't show me my way to the door. There is no door. I can't leave. It doesn't work that way. And I can help.
I also get that. I'm not sure how you will ever do me any good or help in ANY way.
Sit with me. Take as long as you need to think about this. You already know the answer.
You sound like you're trying to give sage advice that's all lies. It's too much today. I'm drowning in oceans of feelings and emotions and memories and anger.
You're not drowning. I'm the boat.
Really? A boat? Where are you taking me? Through some storm only to drown me?
Through the storm, yes. Key word: through. But not because I want to because you need me to.
I'm going to change your life.
They all say that.
I already have. I know you didn't want your life to change. But that's something sometimes you can't control.
True. Am I supposed to view all this as good or bad change? Because right now, all I see and feel is a void.
It can be both. It may be one or the other. Everyday is different. I can't control you or how you feel in each moment.
But today I'm drowning. Remember? Void. Hole. Empty. Pain. Hurt. I have lots of synonyms. I can look up more if you'd like.
Fair. Tomorrow you may forget I even exist.
Impossible. But not saying I wouldn't like that to happen.
Also fair. But I'm not leaving. I can't.
You don't get it. Everything I loved. It's gone. My world.
I do know. I'm everything you never wanted, but everything that helps get you to what's next in life. You don't want me, but you need me.
I'm love with no place to go.
Grief, you're love? If this is love, I don't want it.
I know you don't. But I'm about to change your life, remember? Come sit with me again from time to time.
In a day.
A month.
A year.
Longer.
Our conversations won't be the same. They'll never be the same. Some will last days. Others, seconds. Your love and other emotions you feel like you're missing will still be there, but you'll have new loves, new experiences, and new things to grieve. And we can talk about those, too. You will see your loss through new eyes and the other things I listed for you. You will take me with you everywhere. You'll have friends come with you to sit with me, as well. If you don't think you have someone to be there with you, I know you can find someone. Just like you're not alone, I live in everyone.
I'm not exactly a friend, as you already know, but I am a means to an end.
So come sit with me for a while.
I know where you are now, I know you won't need me forever, and I know the way out:
It’s through.
Karma, Part I
You're not defeated,
or down for the count.
Don't need anyone to save you,
let you tap out.
There are those in the world,
too cold to the bone.
Those who will teach you,
you're better off alone.
So let karma take hold,
let it seal their fate.
Keep your head held high,
be kind, don't hate.
What you gave was good,
Who you are is gold.
Karma has your back, girl,
and will punish them tenfold.
3: Karma, Part II
When you feel like you can't try anymore
feel like it's in vain
When at the hands of the heartless, rude,
or the bane
Remember in the universe
there's the ying and the yang
the reap and the sow
and that mic drop *bang*
karma takes all prisoner
Yes, that bitch sees all
Don’t worry about those who hurt you
Because soon enough, they’ll fall
4: Moving On
Moving on
Moving
I’m still moving
Trudging my feet
My heart
My soul
My past
Diving into the next
Year
Month
Day
Moment
I can do this.
Right?
5: Your Hands
I’d been so mad for so long.
Angry at you.
But your hand.
It was never you.
You were never the one who turned your back on me.
It was them.
You were never the one who cast me aside for who I am.
It was them.
You were never the one who said I didn’t belong because of x, y, or z.
It was them.
Your hands, your outstretched and welcoming arms and hands.
For everyone.
Your love is for everyone.
6: The Centurion and the Beloved
I recently read about this story from a new perspective I'd never heard about. For more reading about it consult these sources at the end of this writing. Below are some of the thoughts that came to mind when I heard this retelling, regardless of if it is true. Please also note that this is not a religious post, nor do I care to argue about theology even though it references a Biblical story, but you will figure that out during the course of this writing.
---------------------------
The man spoke humbly yet with an air of confidence and faith that he knew what was about to happen would, in fact, happen.
“Sir, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell one to go, and he goes; and another to come, and he comes. I tell my servant to do something, and he does it.”
The healer was amazed when he heard these words. In fact, this was one of the few times in his short life that he was ever amazed by someone.
The man, a centurion, had a pais [Greek] who was ill.
Modern translations usually use the word "slave" or "servant."
Even more recent scholars say, no, the word means beloved, and even more specifically?
Most likely the man was his boyfriend.
When I first heard about this story, my gut reaction was, "Holy shit. My name means beloved," and I had an immediate connection with this story. But more than that, I was able to observe and internalize other thoughts.
Think of this:
This man of great authority asks for healing and the healer grants it.
The healer doesn't ask any questions about or of the man.
The healer?
Christ.
Notice:
He doesn't ask the centurion about anything.
Zero questions about his gender.
Race.
Sexual preference.
Political affiliations.
Who he loves.
Where he works.
How many kids and pets he has.
How he found out about his healing powers.
He doesn't ask any questions about those things about me or any of us, nor do most polite and kind souls.
He welcomes us all, as all the best people in the world do.
I already know all of this, of course, albeit, this story deepened this concept even more so for me.
NOTHING.
I have been asked nothing but to love my neighbor as myself and love my God.
Two easy things. Two great things.
But when it comes to me asking or being welcomed?
I may be left out, but not by everyone.
I can ask for anything.
I can ask for healing.
I've done that before with some answered, and some not answered prayers.
I've done that before with friends with usually the other responding with reconciliation and healing and welcome, open arms between us.
I'll always believe the latter can always happen.
The thing about healing from anyone (not just Christ) is about listening first.
Open up my ears and heart, close my mouth.
The other thing about healing is meeting people where they are.
We have the ability (not just doctors) to heal people in a variety of ways (not just physical), be it yourself or someone else.
There is great power in not only listening, but also understanding, conversation, forgiveness, reconciliation, love, friendship, and almost every admirable character trait you can list that someone has the ability to give.
And most people are ready to give.
Almost everyone is ready to receive.
I once read that "Hurt people, hurt people. Healed people, heal people."
I believe that.
When I have been hurt, I know I am more likely to act or speak out in ways of hurtfulness.
I might try to cut someone off forever or for a set length of time, retaliate, say something inappropriate--you get the idea.
Why? Because of something that is wrong with or inside of ME.
You do the same.
Why?
Because of something inside of YOU.
I try now to always respond from a position of being okay. Fine. Content. Healed.
I don't want to hurt, but more importantly?
I don't want to hurt others.
If someone does wrong to me or something that I don't deserve, I know now that is from a place inside THAT person.
I'm not saying someone doesn't cause a chain reaction (A causes B), but we are all responsible for us and our actions, not those of others.
If I do something wrong, you bet I'm asking for forgiveness and trying to fix the issue and right a wrong ASAP.
Don't like what the other person did, wrote, or said?
Have a conversation instead of perhaps the opposite.
From there will spring forth everything from kind words to understanding to finding what you're needing and desiring and looking for.
That's all the centurion did.
He shows up with moderate humility and confidence that what he believes can and will happen.
Because of those things, that day, his beloved found healing.
And sometimes like the centurion who had hope and stepped out with vulnerability, that's all it takes to set something right and let the healing begin.
---------------------------
Sources (there are many, many others but these are just a few):
The Gospels of Matthew and Luke
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/when-jesus-healed-a-same-sex-partner_b_1743947
https://qspirit.net/gay-centurion/
7: One Little Word
Year one: 2003. I’m 23. I had anxiety about my first year of teaching and this was long before I knew what anxiety was. I had a dream that was sent to calm me. Ground me. A student in my dream told me his/her name was “ministry.” I woke up knowing there was now peace to be had.
Year two: I resigned from my job. I knew I had to go somewhere else but didn’t exactly want to. I loved my kids so much. I still love them more than any others. We had a special connection for two years I can’t explain. I was truly blessed.
Year three: I ended up here wishing for the best, hoping for a new start with my gifts. I was not disappointed. I was met immediately with a church who wanted me as their youth minister, practically instant friends, and so many amazing, veteran teachers who took me under their wing and educated me right before they all retired and/or quit. And a MacBook. Bless.
Years pass. I’m meant to be here at least one more year and one more year and one more year, though I’ve tried to leave many times due to some situations I was tired of being hit with. You can only be hit so many times before you bow out, trust me. I’ve had job offers I’ve turned down due to the timing. Someday the timing will align. But not yet.
Year 14: I walk out the doors in tears. Depressed as hell. In need of routine that that summer wouldn’t give me. I ran away to the mountains and the sea and then NY. It took me over a year to heal and find myself, and my students never knew.
Year 17: While in Mexico, I find out the year is cut short due to Covid. The last few months of the year I was in a surreal fog trying to wrap my head around what to do and not do, and how to get kids to do their work.
Year 18: (how am I this old!?!) Here I am in tears the night before. Why? I don’t know. Anxiety. Why? I don’t know. Do I not want to do this? I don’t know. Am I scared? No. I think it’s because everything isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Because everything is so damn weird.
But as I rest my head in my pillow, I am focusing on this: I had one of my best friends message me as I was waking this morning to tell me that God told her I would have a challenging year but that I’d come out victorious every time. Initially, I cried upon hearing that but after I calmed, I realized that meant positive things, not negative. After all, EVERY year is challenging, though not all have been victorious.
So claimed that word for my “little one word” for the year: victorious.
This is still my ministry.
This is still my calling.
This is still who I am at the core and my greatest joy most days: a coach, a teacher, a mom, an encourager, a counselor, and giver of the best dad jokes and worst dance moves ever.
I will continue to do my job with creativity and integrity and grace.
I will expect nothing less from myself.
So bring it on.
I’ve got this.
And I will rise above:
Victorious.
8: At the Core
St. Paul.
A man of many opinions, ideas, words.
And a chapter on love that blows most of all writings about love out of the water still till this day. He ends his writing with these two sentences: "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."
This past year I've really enjoyed loving everything and everyone.
Not that I haven't in years past.
Although I'm only halfway through this year, I don't intend to quit loving life and everything in it.
One of my top things to do during the age of 40 was to, and I quote, "love fiercely."
I wrote that down on my 40 things list and on my phone.
Not that I need a reminder.
I love no other way.
Brene Brown writes in her outstanding book, "Dare to Lead" that we should be able to narrow down ourselves to two core values that embody who we are. I've tried it and still can't get there, but I do know that love is one of them. I'm still torn on what my second most important value is, but it's likely safety or creativity.
A friend of mine and I also enrolled in a free online course this month that has you take this character test:
https://www.viacharacter.org/survey/surveys/takesurvey (take it!) My #1 character trait? Love.
Close behind are gratitude, curiosity, creativity, and love for beauty (aka the outdoor world).
Funny. I love those things, too!
And then Brene Brown also writes this:
Why do I love life and so many things and people in it?
Why do I have love?
Because I cultivate it.
Because I'm incredibly brave and vulnerable and take great risks.
Because I have no fear.
Because I love myself.
Because I know what it's like to not be loved in return.
Because I know what it's like to love in return.
Because I love giving it.
Because I know what it means to accept the love I think I deserve.
Because I'm incredibly affectionate.
Because I'm a survivor--someone who has been healed.
And love was one of the most important things that healed me.
Because of all of these things, I love. I love love.
I love being loved but know if I’m not, I at least love me for me.
Remember?
It's the greatest of these....
THE greatest. Period.
So I choose to try to always exude every ounce of something that amazing.
Because right now in 2020 we need love more than anything. Yes, maybe “love is all we need.”
9: Hope
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -- Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers in my soul.
Hope is what is on the other side of everything good that you're wanting to happen.
It’s the dreams I keep dreaming and keep going after.
It’s job application after job application.
It's being a woman in a man's world.
It’s a text every week that never says “delivered.”
It’s the lost time and distance.
It’s a phone call that’s not returned.
It’s silence and being ignored.
It’s the missing.
The ache of being very much alive in a world that screams of heartbreak and division.
It’s every single last thread within—the sinew on bone kind of thread.
Hope.
We cling to it because it, too, is true and real.
Hope.
It’s what disappears when what you're looking forward to comes along.
Hope--I’ll always believe in you and what you’re going to bring.
10: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story
"You have no control
Who lives, who dies, who tells your story"
"Legacy, what is a legacy?
It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see"
- Hamilton the Musical
What will be my legacy?
I have no child to carry on my name.
No close relatives, no nieces or nephews.
Does my name live and die with me?
Is my legacy my students?
My stories of travels, overcoming battles and depression, life advice--is that what lives on?
Does a legacy even matter?
It does, but only for a moment.
Then what?
I turn, you turn, into a headstone.
A dash.
A blip on anscestery.com.
That's it.
That's it?
I'd like to believe that I touched someone's life here on this earth.
I think most of us believe that.
And we do.
We do touch others.
But sometimes it's not in good ways.
Remember:
what lives on isn't always our story.
It's the story others tell about us.
So if you write? Write a good life story.
LIVE a good life story.
Tell a good life story.
Because those who tell our story will narrate it based on their perception of us and experiences with us.
You've heard there are two sides to every story.
But only if the two sides are in disagreement.
Only if one person is lying.
Today, tomorrow if it comes, I will plant my seeds.
I'm hoping of not only truth, but also kindness, creativity, practicality, integrity, passion, hard work, some orneriness, and love.
So much love.
11: Mending Wall
Are you a horrible human?
Probably not.
Am I?
I sure hope not.
I mean, I can be, but for the most part I want to be better.
Everyday.
It’s more than my Ennegram 3w4.
It’s the right thing to do.
Robert Frost wrote “Mending Wall,” one of my favorite poems.
In it he says,
“Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.”
In the season of Lent and Easter, religious or not, it’s a time of reflection and always a time of forgiveness and contemplating self and spiritual convalescence for many—and yes, the tearing down of walls.
In this season of a lack of routine, creation of a new one, and what feels like a new life for everyone for the time being—we grieve what our normal was.
Each day of spring is a reminder that the world is renewing itself,, and its routine is literally changing each day.
Healing past the dark winter.
It’s proof of new: Growth. Birth. Rebirth.
Each morning sunrise is the reminder of new mercy for a new day.
Again, forgiveness—for self, for others.
For all of you out there with walls to keep yourself hidden within or dealing with something or someone outside of you; those playing the victim forever; still harboring ill emotions, hurt, blame, shame, guilt, whatever; those not mending friendships and relationships right now instead of distancing; or even those who refuse the opportunity to engage in a civil conversation to fix something that could be fixed, who are you in real life?
Wait. This is real life.
So, maybe you’re probably a horrible human being regardless of the state of the world if you’re unwilling to do good in the world or mend the wall.
But there is always the chance to fix that.
If COVID doesn’t wake us up to objectivity or the reality that life is short and time somehow can move so slowly, still—maybe it will wake us up to the chance to change, heal, rise like the Phoenix, or make amends.
If those things aren’t for you?
Carry on.
And good luck...
Before you or I built our walls, who were we?
I believe that’s who we are at our core.
“Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.”
And now seems like a pretty good time to tear them down, and NOT because there’s time—because we probably don’t, as the poet writes, really “need the wall.”
12: Ready
Are we ever really "ready" for what life throws at us?
This is a question I've seen posted for years, and have always maintained that no, we aren't always ready. I've pondered it for years to my own self for self reflection. Even in my own life: no, not always ready.
And that's okay.
During this spring, this season of Easter, Lent, and COVID, "ready" is a word I found worthy of meditating on.
For the past month, I can assure you that most of us in the world were not ready to go through the changes COVID has brought to our world, jobs, relationships, and more.
I think of things I haven't been ready for in life:
depression
love
job changes
dating
assholes at work
narcissists
falling out of love
being alone
the death of someone.
And things I have:
getting back on my feet
dating
love
deep friendships
reconciliation
trying to find a new job
starting over
traveling.
I said some of the same things twice.
That's not coincidental.
Sometimes we are ready, sometimes we aren't.
And there's nothing wrong with that.
But when we are ready, or feel brave, just go for it.
Scream it in your head if you have to: "Ready or not, here I come!"
Because some things we are always ready for.
For example, I, personally, am always ready for kindness, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
I have an open door with friends and students to encourage these in order to keep life peaceful and make amends.
Whatever it is you need to be ready for?
Forget about that word and focus on one of these instead:
Do the right thing. The brave thing. The good thing. The kind thing.
Because there's no day but today.
13: New Leaves
Same trees,
new leaves.
Tonight I felt everything.
All over
once more.
But in hindsight.
And in hindsight
I’m alive.
I’m running both times.
This time, not scared.
This time, not crying.
And instead of that night
to die,
or as far away as I could,
sinking to the earth,
this time,
fully alive.
14: The Shattering
"[if I was a man] They'd say I hustled
Put in the work
They wouldn't shake their heads
And question how much of this I deserve
What I was wearing, if I was rude
Could all be separated from my good ideas and power moves"
- Taylor Swift, "The Man"
It's an uphill battle and an unbelievable climb.
It's
the raise you're not getting
the assertion you're wrong
the FEMA paperwork you had to file
the proof that you're not an assertive bitch, but strong
the unequal pay
the being qualified, yet overlooked
the work-life-family balance
the bullshit and tedium that's pure textbook
the lies you have to overcome
the assumption a man did it best
the critics of all kinds
that you'll never put to rest
the accusations running rampant
the lack of support and daily grind
wanting to show them you're not overly confident
it's simply you're the most badass they'll find.
You're a 9 to 5 professional
in too often still a world not your own.
A
doctor
actor
teacher
coach
musician
construction worker
mechanic
farmer
business owner
THE girl boss.
Why is this a fight? You ask.
Why is this still a fight? I believe to be a better question.
Climbing, climbing, climbing,
Until you see the glass, the ceiling above.
And with the weapons you've been gathering since birth,
no, nothing you've bought
(there is no license to glean): words of wisdom, strength, power, and confidence--
you
reach
deep
within.
There is no breaking through;
It's a shattering.
15: Without You
Without you:
I'll hike the Bob Marshall Wilderness/Chinese Wall.
Buy the ring.
Wear the ring.
See the world.
Move.
Run the business.
Own the place.
Run the world.
Be the sun.
Be myself.
And be better off.
Without you.
16: Best of Everything/Returns to Me
"“it’s a case of liberty, that love’s supposed to set you free"
- Ellen Krauss, lyrics from "The One I Love"
Love:
saved me
set me free
made me believe in everything
made me question everything—
everything I’d ever believed
some things I didn’t think I wanted
almost refused to see
but now do
because I was wrong about so many things
so, so many things
now I know what it really means
Love:
helped me find me
the me I already was down deep
yes, set that ‘me’ free
Love:
needs
no complications
no pretense
no copacetic list
&
no strings
it is wild
&
oh so
free
selfless
yet
self-governing
life-giving
liberating
&
pure liberty
& when I have it
it's like all the best of everything
& all I've ever lost
comes back, returns to me
17: My Best Days/A Soul Refined
I refuse to believe that my best days are behind.
I refuse to believe I have nothing but time.
I refuse to believe I’ve peaked.
In anything.
And then I wake up;
I feel the dull ache;
See the gray hair.
Barely.
My eyes are weakening.
Hear a faint clock ticking.
Taste my salty tears.
Oh, for years, for things, I never had.
I’ll never have.
What did I miss?
What did I lose?
What will I never have again?
I used to believe I could always win.
But I still do.
I believe anything I can dream, can be mine.
And if they are behind me?
I wake up each day and know what, and who, I've had. Where I've been.
I've had everything I've ever wanted and more.
Who can say that?
Some planned, some unexpected.
But what a life...
If my best days are behind, I look and will always look back on them with an endearing smile.
Or at least I'll try.
Some I miss, and they bring tears to these eyes.
Yet, still, I refuse to believe my best years are behind.
Perhaps they're very soon.
We never know until the end,
and we don't always know it's the end.
So with that thought in mind,
I won't live with regret or looking behind.
I won't live waiting.
My best shot is now.
Even with the ability to look ahead,
I believe my best day is today.
Yes, "No day but today."
So here I stand.
Take me for who I am.
You’ll never find a truer friend, a greater love, or a heart like mine.
Try me.
It's not a dare, unless you make it one.
It’s not pretension.
It’s a soul refined,
By fires and hell
I will never revisit.
My best days, years, moments:
future, now, or behind--they’re all mine.
I own them all.
I’ll own them all.
And I’d share them all.
Somethings age well, get better with time.
I hope I am, hope I will.
So, again,
Take me for who I am.
You’ll never find a truer friend, a greater love, or a heart like mine.
Try me.
Okay.
Maybe it is a dare.
I'll prove it right.
It’s not pretension.
Oh, no.
I'm a soul refined.
18: The Gradual Healing
Author's note: this post made me cry when I wrote it. I don't cry a lot when I write, if ever, but this one hit me when I started to jot down the lines about suicide. I'm so, so grateful to be healed and happy years later. If you're battling any depression or anxiety, I hope you know your day is coming.
Find help, reach out, let others help you, then trust the process and hold on.
"There is a crack in everything...
That's how the light gets in." - Leonard Cohen
I wish it was that easy-- *snaps fingers* - *game changes* easy.
I wish it had happened all in one day.
It didn't.
Life is magical, yes.
But not 100% of the time.
However, there was a day where I rediscovered my light.
Embraced that inner warrior.
Snatched my power back.
I can't pin any of those days down.
It was a gradual healing.
The days I do remember are more on the darker side, but they all pointed me to the light.
Some days I believe and wonder if there were so many cracks in my soul, that nothing but light could get in.
I remember days I was defenseless, powerless, speechless, sad, confused, helpless, where nothing was in my control.
Later down the road, I appreciated their antitheses.
I remember not even being able to imagine being out of the sadness.
When would I ever be happy again?
Be okay?
People told me "Trust the process" and that day was coming.
"The hell it isn't," I'd think.
I remember the first day I had three good days in a row after almost nine months of depression that I didn't even know was depression.
I was at a summer photography workshop and retreat at the lake.
Life was on the up and up.
Then it all crashed again.
Later down the road, days like these gave me hope that three days would turn to four and then five and then weeks, months, and years.
They did.
But that was many months away.
I remember the two days I for sure wanted to end everything.
I still know their exact dates.
The day my doctor walked me into the door of a counselor was one of them.
I know for a fact I never told her that, but I always believed she knew.
The day I was dismissed from counseling wasn't one of those days.
I was a little scared, but ready to try this happy thing on my own.
I was fine and going to be fine, I told myself.
Later down the road, I was grateful I didn't end my life.
That friends and family helped me.
That I had the courage to step out and find me again.
I remember being hurt again, but this time I didn't let it own me.
Hurt, yes.
Destroyed? No.
Resilient.
I healed with resilience.
I didn't have to realize that later down the road.
And that race.
Yes, the Ironman helped.
Both the full and the half.
What an enormous, but life-changing accomplishment to do both.
After the long one, I felt not invincible, but unstoppable.
I knew in the moment I crossed the finish line that I'd fully, unabashedly, arrived.
I'd found a mountaintop overlooking my past valleys.
I was back and here to stay.
There is nothing I'll ever face after both depression and that race that I can't overcome.
Light, light, light, slowly seeping through.
Permeating every inch of my being.
The light was a million rays:
kindness
love
faith
workouts
smiles
friendship
writing
music
meditation
creativity.
And gratitude.
So. Much. Gratitude.
Ah, if you could only see my heart, you'd know.
You'd see how very, very full it is of all things good and pure.
Things returned to me, and my heart and mind healed in ways only hindsight could recount.
Yeah, some days I'd wake up thinking,
"Hmmm. Just like that. I feel 100% again in the area of _____ (i.e. motivation)."
Most of myself and what I'd lost or what was damaged was restored like that.
They were restored like those three days without tears: I never saw them coming.
But they were also like the light.
The light we know that's coming each new day.
The light that gives life.
Heals.
Saves.
Finds
every deep crevasse,
every empty void,
every darkest night of the soul.
And it illuminates the way and the path that leads you home to the you you're meant to be.
19: The Strongest Woman and the Strongest Heart(beat)
"There's a whole lot of heart in me
I feel it under my skin
And I know and I know and I know
There's a whole lot of heart in me
It takes a whole lot of heart to see
Everything's coming down roses
And I know and I know and I know
There's a whole lot of heart in me"
- Songwriter Ingrid Michaelson, "Whole Lot of Heart"
Several times in my life I've been told, "Wow, you have one seriously strong heartbeat!" This was always an observation of surprise for the other party, which makes sense. It's not like people go around feeling or listening to each other's pulses or chests with their ears or a stethoscope.
Unless you're a doctor. Then I suppose you get a free pass.
P
I love(d) being told that: a strong heart. A strong heartbeat. I've also been told several times in my life how strong I look, acted, or felt. There's something about the word "strong" that resonates with me. I love being known as a strong woman in almost every facet of the word.
Q
But even the strongest heart can both weaken and break. There's an old saying that goes, "If I let you in please don't break anything." I've had my share of the breaking part. I try to protect my heart from brokenness, but that doesn't mean I won't let someone in and be vulnerable enough to take a chance and let it break. On the physical side of things, I have heart disease in my family, so I try to make sure and watch my diet and exercise in order to keep it healthy. That doesn't mean something won't happen.
PR
Funny how the strongest heartbeat still beats strongly even after breaking. That thump, that sound, doesn't and hasn't changed after any heartache I've ever experienced. In case you forgot, that same heart will beat over 100,000 times a day, broken or not.
R
Even the strongest woman can cry, lose, fail, and fall into a sea of anxiety and/or depression. Yes, even the strongest woman/women need others around them. You can be both independent and someone who reaches out to others whether to serve or ask for help.
S
Strong women are fighters, and sometimes that fight is internal. Funny how the strongest women, yeah, we will lie to ourselves saying, "I've got this" until either it becomes true or someone reaches out their hand and we reach back. We can't always do things on our own.
QRS
The truth is this:
my heart as a muscular organ? An amazing wonder.
My heart as a metaphor? I have a whole lot of it, more than most people I know.
ST
Rupi Kaur writes, "What is stronger than the human heart which shatters over and over and still lives." There was a period at the end of that quote, but I've always thought that maybe it was a question. Go back and read it again with a question mark at the end: "What is stronger than the human heart which shatters over and over and still lives?"
Can you answer the question? I can.
Me (and my heart).
And I'd venture to guess also you and yours.
T
Remember, strength doesn't and can't come from nothing. You have to work and experience to have it. You have to sometimes have it break and heal for it to be strong. Some days I wonder how my heart is still beating after everything I've been through, but I do know it's resilient, and that's all that matters most days.
So don't deny it. Own it: we are the strongest women.
And no matter what has or what will come, there's a whole lot of heart left in me, and I know in you, too.
*The letters above don't have a hidden meaning, but do represent the names of the waves and intervals in heartbeats. If it was distracting, just go back and read this thing again and ignore my poetic self. ;) If you're in the medical field, you get it, even if I didn't quite map it out 100% correctly.
20: Through
Author's Note: Similar to "All the Ways," this is quite notably one of the most vulnerable and personal things I've ever written for the same reason. This is a sister poem to it.
The darkest days
a cold winter night was one
I watched some events fall into play right in front of my face after a few texts
I made some phone calls where no one picked up
I remember the song I was streaming
I still hate that song like it's a bad omen
I began sobbing in the middle of my run
Then it turned to a panic where I couldn't breathe
which turned to me collapsing to the strange warmth of the turf of the football field
hoping the earth would hold me
swallow me
or bury me alive
then I left
running home talking to my brother on the phone
frantic
and desperate
I didn't want to live
I arrived home knowing I could terminate it all in seconds
I never told him that
he knew
I'll don't know how, but he did
he told a friend of mine, unknowingly to me
"Something's wrong. She's hurt."
he couldn't save me
but he tried
a more frigid winter day was another
I hit rock bottom the morning of an appointment
I couldn't keep my shit together
couldn't stop crying
even worse, it was almost Christmas
and I was very much all alone until I drove to my parents a few days later
I talked it out with my doctor
my counselor
I didn't want to talk to him
I just wanted to be around anyone who was familiar
I didn't care who
So I reached out to some friends
texted some
called some
even left a card on a porch of one, I believe
and no one,
no one was there for me.
I could still end it.
Who the fuck would even care?
After all, no one returned my calls, texts, anything.
I told my doctor counselor I wouldn't harm myself.
I said I was fine.
So instead,
I tried the antidepressant
I hated how it made me feel
It made me numb
I didn't feel like myself
I felt like a shell of a person who didn't exist anymore
I couldn't feel
I couldn't even cry
I went for a run that day too
but
I couldn't run
My body was screaming at itself, devoid of life
so much heaviness
literal heaviness in my veins, concrete in my legs
but still I made an effort
I still was moving
Somehow.
These were two of the lowest days of my life.
I know I've had others.
But these were the two worst.
I remember so many parts of them, most of which are not pleasant memories,
but I also recall this:
I trudged through.
Pushed through.
I tried.
I held onto some words I'd remembered from a friend.
A promise I believed even in the tenebrosity.
I still threw on my layers, laced up my shoes, and I ran.
How did I do that?
Any of that?
Is that resilience?
Strength?
Routine?
My last thread of hope?
Me still trying?
Part of healing?
Even years later, I honestly don't know.
My best guess is that maybe I was somehow still fighting--trying anything that might help me feel better.
Or maybe I just hate not working out that much.
I run no matter what the day brings.
Another guess is this: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...."
One word stands out in that line more than any other:
Through.
Not around.
Not above.
Not running.
Not drowning.
I walk through the valley.
I walked through the valley.
Past tense.
And walked, not ran.
It took time.
Through.
Preposition.
"moving in one side and out of the other side of (an opening, channel, or location) [my depression]"
"continuing in time toward completion of (a process or period) [my depression]"
Through meant I wasn't staying.
Through meant I went from a crawl to a saunter to a jog to a run to a full fledged sprint.
Through meant there was an end, an out, a mountaintop view that’s been so amazing now that I’m there.
I made it out.
And I made it out, I made it through, more than alive.
21: Tender Mercy
I run a mile a day.
Sometimes more.
I used to run to keep the weight off.
I still sort of do it for that same reason.
I also used to love the endorphin/runner's high I got from it.
I rarely get that anymore. Not sure why.
Anymore, running is a reset button.
It's a way for me to get away from my day.
I can feel, in my mind's eye, the troubles or busyness of the day cycle in and out of my brain as I run.
Often, I stop to add something to my list app that I remembered to do later on.
Often, a creative idea jumps into my imagination and I, again, stop to write it down.
Sometimes something I needed to remember earlier in the day but couldn't recall shows up in a thought.
Sometimes I break down in tears on a run if the day has been overwhelming.
All of these things help me reset.
It's a release and a genesis I can't put in any other terms.
Sometimes my reset is a new morning.
When I was struggling with enormous anxiety and depression a few years ago, there was a thought alone that would help get me through trying days: "Tomorrow is a new day. A chance to start over."
The mantra worked.
Over and over.
Until I rarely had any bad days, let alone several in a row.
The prophet, Jeremiah, wrote that God's mercies are new every morning.
Even if you aren't religious, at the start of a new day there is mercy, beauty, and hope in each new sunrise.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote, "But the tender grace of a day that is dead, Will never come back to me."
Though his poem is likely about a death, notice these words: Will never.
They suggest finality.
An end to a day, even if it is a difficult one.
And some days need to flat out die, let's be honest.
So at the end of a run, the end of a day, or whatever it is in your life that helps you reset and start over, know that mercy means compassion and forgiveness, and we can show those things to our own selves (as we should!)
You and I, we don't have to beat ourselves up.
We can and should be easy on ourselves.
We deserve nothing less.
And good Lord, we don't need to beat others up either.
We should also show such kindness to others.
None of us are perfect.
You and I, we get to start over.
Reconciliation with ourselves, our thoughts, our friends, everything.
Our day starts over each morning.
Yesterday doesn't hold a grudge, so why should we?
Time is forgiving, and so we should be with everyone.
Let the day be.
Let tomorrow come.
Be yourself.
Be there for each other.
After all, who doesn't want or need a new start--and more tender mercy?
I was filling out an application a few weeks ago and a question popped up: "What motivates you?" Now, it was about triathlons yeah yeah, because the application was to be a triathlon ambassador, but at the same time I knew I could answer any way I chose. I thought about it for about 10 seconds and then wrote this: "My depression."
Without going into detail, depression has been in and out of my life for several years now. Right now I can say I'm in the clear. I feel happy, healthy, and focused. Work only sorta sucks. I've found within myself to continue to set personal life goals to work towards and check off bucket list items. I know who I am and who I can be. I know who my real friends are. I know what I want out of life. And, I reminded myself I need to get back to things that make me happy and use my gifts and talents.
I found out many things on my own. Experience is the best teacher, right? I grew up believing what I would soon learn were lies. I thought that if you prayed enough or "gave it over to God" that was what a good Christian could do and be healed--that if I believed in God enough, I wouldn't be depressed because I'd be filled with the joy of the Lord. (*side note: there used to be a stigma in many Christian churches and communities, and maybe there still is, that depression was something so horrible that we shouldn't talk about it--I grew up thinking this way about it). I used to think there was something wrong with people who had depression. For a time I thought it was something people made up or could snap out of with ease. I heard that depression was just pure selfishness, and that if someone would only stop being self-centered, they'd end up okay. I even thought counseling was for chumps. Now I preach to everyone that counseling or therapy (whatever the kind) is awesome. That meditation and yoga aren't scary and new-agey. That a daily gratitude journal helps you keep focused on the positive. That things like this are all healing. I even found that yoga, biking, and swimming all are amazing for my ADD mind and are much more difficult to cry during than running! haha. Speaking of crying: I learned that crying is healthy (I used to bottle things up horribly), but not necessarily if you're crying everyday about things. I mean, I cried every day my first year of teaching, but that was out of loneliness, or so I thought. In hindsight, I was probably depressed and didn't know it. I remember one year I had three good days in a row and was like, "YES! I haven't cried in three days!" Hindsight again...
I learned a lot of the above were lies, and when someone buys into a lie, some bad things can happen upstairs. If you believe a lie (or a truth) about yourself, medically speaking your brain can actually alter, causing you to be "stuck" until you retrain it or go to therapy to retrain it. This is why, even besides depression, we get stuck in all sorts of ways in life or paralyzed with fears. I learned that depression can happen to anyone for a myriad of reasons, and sometimes it takes God, yes, but more than God to get out of it. After all, he did give us resources to help us through such as doctors, friends, articles, posts on Pinterest and social media, and hobbies to keep our minds learning, busy, or refocusing. There have been times where I could barely get myself out of bed to go to work but still did. I remember one year I didn't want the school year to end because I craved the routine. Summer meant that routine was gone. I learned I wasn't alone even though many, many times I just wanted to be around no one and do nothing. I had no energy. I learned that medicine actually made things worse for me even though my doctor at the time contended I couldn't and wouldn't be able do things naturally (I did find some natural things that worked for me, but please note, I am not discouraging meds--please take them if they work for you!). Maybe it was me saying "Yeah right" to her in my mind that made me find a different route. I do like to prove people wrong...
Oh, and that gaining weight is one of the worst things ever with depression. So yeah, I found out a lot about myself and others when I was in the midst of my own darkness.
Depression: It motivates me. It makes me want to be a better version of myself, NOT that depressed person. No one wants to be friends with or at least around a person who is always a hot mess. What I'm getting at is this: depression sucks, that's the truth, and most of us have been or will be there, but guess what? IT'S OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY! And shame on me or you if we haven't been there for someone in a time of need or shamed someone, especially another woman for her depression. We can make it through. If you've been through it once or a hundred times, you can make it through again. You will. You can. I tell myself this all the time. (I also tell myself if Britney Spears can make it through 2007, I can make it through anything). But like anything, you have to WANT to get better and have to drop your guard enough to put one foot in front of the other. That's literally the first, worst, and most difficult step: acknowledgement. The best part? Years later you look back and see how far you've come, how many strides you've made, and that now you're running triathlons. Okay, maybe not that last part, but at least running laps metaphorically speaking around the old you.
23: The Year After
It's crazy to think it's been a year since my Ironman. I was actually crying tears writing part of this today, if that's any indicator of just how powerful the day and the past few years have meant to me in several different ways. Below are a collection of thoughts about this past year in no particular order.
Right after the race I went on vacation to Montreal and the east coast with a friend for a few weeks. It was good for me to relax for a while before work started. But then work started, and I sunk into a month or so of depression in August 2018. I can't say how or why this happened, but I did know that it was something that could happen, according to many of my tri friends who call it simply Post-Ironman Depression. My friend Richard goes through it every time, and he’s done a ton of Ironman races. I remember I cried a lot. I felt "lost." I didn't have any motivation. I wonder if a small part of it was due to me not fully dealing with a few things I'd been going through earlier in the year at work; I'd pushed them aside during my training to focus on it alone. However, the majority of what I was feeling was mostly a fog that I knew came with this as my friends had told me. It was very weird. Somehow I got out of it. I can't explain how, either, but after about a month, it was as if one day all of those gloomy feelings were lifted from me. I was glad that I reached out to the Women For Tri community, an online Facebook group where any woman who is doing or interested in triathlons can join for free. I asked what to do, and I got a lot of good feedback, including "make new goals!" So I did.
I'd also heard from a friend that your fitness level the year after an Ironman is incredible, so it made sense to keep it up by entering some other races: a half-marathon, a half Ironman relay in Puerto Rico with strangers, a few small tris, a 50K (that I didn't run), a 5K, and a half-marathon relay in Utah with one of my best friends. I crushed most of these races, placing in several of them and coming close to a PR in the 5K in the small tri and possibly a PR in my 10K in the Utah race.
I also got an invite to Kona IM championship due to my blog post I wrote about my depression. I initially accepted, but got a really really bad feeling when the foundation I was raising money for promised me they were a fundraising team that was helping me and didn’t call me when they’d set up phone appointments and would avoid some of my contact related questions in email. They also didn’t have their non profit stats listed with Charity Finder (most do this to stay above reproach). After talking to some close friends who had worked for non profits and in the corporate world, they agreed with me: something was amiss, and I should back out. The invitation was what I’ll always see it as: an honor, but my intuition told me two weeks in that I needed to not pursue this anymore. I don’t regret saying yes and then changing my mind even though that's not my MO ever. I didn’t make either decision lightly.
I started back lifting weights; you can always know how well I'm feeling by the fact that I'm lifting and writing. If I'm doing those two things, I'm feeling like myself. I love feeling and being strong for myself. It makes me feel sexy and confident. And not that anyone holds me or touches me, per se, but if they did, I want them to like/love the way I feel.
Telling the story of doing an Ironman or the story of the day never got old this year. Neither did answering a zillion questions about the race: how did you eat? How did you pee? Were you sore? Would you do it again? Was it hard? How long was the race again? Where is Lake Placid? I love love love answering questions about it.
The fact that I'm now a USA Triathlon certified coach, is amazing. I didn't know a year ago that I'd be one. I'm loving it so far even though almost ALL my clients aren't doing a tri.
The end of my school year was super difficult due to a supervisor breaking confidentiality concerning a meeting I had, a co-worker lying and making up a story about something I supposedly said, and my bosses using all of this against me to where my end of year evaluation had low marks for the first time ever. Of course, all of this upset me greatly. Welcome to education where anything you may say or not say can be used against you. Honestly, I think the fact that I'd done the Ironman and overcame depression helped me to find some anti-anxiety natural helps to get me through those two trying months. I also confided in some co-workers who knew what was going on. “You do your job and get screwed so much around here by ___,” my co-teacher told me. All my work friends were appalled and supported me 100%, which I’m grateful for. Yes, I'm fine now. I know now how to push through and not focus on the negative. I’m the most postitive person I know when it comes to believing things will always work out for me for good. Eternal optimist!
I have to say that overall, I really really found my happy this past year even through the post Ironman depression and the work shit.
I made a list of 40 things to do before I turned 40.
I planned two epic vacations that I took mostly by myself.
One of the best things I did this year for myself was create a dream board. I also started meditating several times a week and created playlists for that quiet time of peaceful zen. I keep going back to my dream board and mantras on any bad days I do have, and you know what? I KNOW I’m fine and my badass confident self again. I’m happy. Complete. Myself. Me again. It’s good to be back and on a mountaintop again! Will I continue to have shit days? Yes. We ALL do! I read today that life can’t be all sunshine—then it would be a desert. I don’t let the bad days I do have knock me down. I know a new day is coming tomorrow.
For the rest of this post, I want to share four vignettes and photos that represent what a year ago today means to me. The first is of me finishing the race. There was nothing quite like that finish line.
Was this day the best day of my life? No. But it’s definitely in the top 10.
Was it the best race I’ve ever done? Maybe. I’ve done some pretty amazing races since I started doing them in 2004. I'd say overall it was one of four of the best races of my life.
Was it the most amazing thing I’ve ever done? Also no, but again top 10.
Was it the most physically trying thing I’ve ever experienced? Possibly. I’ve done a few day hikes that could compete, and I was in equal to more pain in and after my full marathon.
Was it the most difficult thing I’ve ever done? Still, no. Depression was. If you knew where I was at the end of 2016, you’d know what this day really meant. It meant I’d finally found myself, my happy, new goals, and the mountaintop again.
The second photo is from a friend of mine who said my vulnerability about my depression helped her to seek help for depression instead of spending the money on me coaching her physical fitness. She made the right choice. I don’t tell others about my depression because I want to. It’s not the easiest thing to talk about. But I do it because there are still people and students out there who are ashamed of theirs, feel alone, and may not realize they need help. If you know someone who needs help, say something. It took my doctor at the time literally walking me into the door of a counselor when I went to see her for another medical issue in 2016 for me to realize I couldn’t do this alone. She knew that, and I’m forever grateful for that conversation that day when she saw me at my absolute rock bottom, but also I'm thankful for her gentle nudge and her saying, “Amy, I’ve been there too, and you’ll get through this.” She knew I’d eventually be myself again even though I didn’t. I couldn’t even imagine a day when I’d just feel like the badass, confident Amy I’d always been. Yes, even my own imagination wasn’t itself. I thought I’d never see the day I was okay again.
The third photo is what my mom wrote to me the day before the race. I’m always doing crazy things that involve chasing my dreams, and my parents never bat an eye. They do say to call or check in with us while traveling, and I just roll my eyes at them and tell them I’m practically 40, I've got this. Nothing surprises them anymore. I’m thankful they gave me wings to fly—whether up and down mountains, on a bike, in the Ironman race, or traveling around the world.
The last is a photo of my friends Lisa and Erin. Sharing race day with them, my coach Mary, and several other friends and family who came to watch me or watched from afar, meant the world to me. I saw Erin around mile 15 of the run and gave her a huge hug. “We’re gonna do this! We’re gonna be Ironmen today!!” She said excitedly. We both got tears in our eyes before heading out to finish. And Lisa, she got the single best racing finish in an Ironman that I’ve ever seen. Mike Reilly grabbed her hand and had the whole crowd chant that she was an Ironman.
A year ago I wrote these words about the day:
"If you all want to do something amazing in your life, do an Ironman, a half, or volunteer at one. You won’t regret it. It was a long and hard day but one of the coolest things I’ve EVER done. And it’s all true. You won’t regret it. I don’t. Every second was worth it... I am proud of myself, but also so, so grateful for the hundreds of people who I met the past year, who poured into my life with kind words, who taught me how to get better at three sports, who coached me, who traveled with me, and who approach me still wanting to hear a story about my day or ask me what new feat I’m chasing or training for. My heart is full when I think on these things."
And here I am a year later telling you how I feel again. This day, I’ll always contend was many, many things. Of all the things this day wasn’t, let me tell you what it was:
It was “Amy Sampson Day” as my friends Kristy and Charlie dubbed it.
It was freaking long. I was up for 22 hours after it was all said and done.
It made me more grateful than I already am.
I still am. So many of you have reached out to me to tell me how badass, strong, or inspiring I am. And I believe all of you. Knowing I did something that helped or inspired others fills my cup.
I have friends who subtly brag about me to their friends or complete strangers. I secretly love it.
I have friends who make fun of me constantly. “Hey, did you do an Ironman? I heard you did an Ironman.” It keeps me humble.
Did this experience make me feel invincible? Oh, not at all by far. You learn to value rest, and you feel so many aches over the course of the training that you realize even more so that life and time are truly gifts.
And all this:
A culmination of 11 months of training, 6 of which were very pinpointed for this race.
A day I shared with so many new friends I’d met the year leading up to it.
A day where my parents and friends watched from both Lake Placid and online or via the app.
A year later, yes, my heart is still very, very full.
A mountaintop, a moment of deposition in my life.
And yes...
Pure. Perfect. Unprecedented. Magic.
23: The Rhythm and Routine of Life
I used to think I hated routine.
My free-spirited soul likes doing whatever I want, whenever I want, most of the time.
A few years ago, I realized it's more valuable than I liked to let on.
_____
When I was 36, I walked out the doors of my school for the summer in tears--upset that my routine was about to be upended for the next 10 weeks. I was severely depressed, and it took several years for me to realize that my routine was one of the things that saved me during that season of life.
I did the exact same thing everyday in the exact same order: got up, breakfast, work, weights, running, dinner, scroll through my phone apps, sleep, get up, do it all again. I would be able to do all of those same things in the summertime, minus work. Well, I could work, but no one needs that kind of negativity in their life in the summer.
For whatever reason, though, I recognized my days were going to be different, so I ran away to Colorado and stayed with some friends for two or three weeks to get away from the familiarity of my day-to-day life, house, and anything else that might fit the bill.
I found no routine that summer, but did find a way to push through until I ran into something I thought was going to change my world. That upended quickly, but luckily in time for me to be back in the rhythm of work and my second masters.
Rhythm. In one of my favorite books, "Lord of the Flies," William Golding writes about the hum and rhythm of the island the boys are marooned on. For the first three chapters or so, life is chaotic and disordered. By chapter four, there is a pattern to day-to-day life.
I'm not sure life follows a beat, but maybe it does. Maybe that's why we're told when we're young to "march to the beat of our own drum." Create your own routine and be you.
_____
Some routines I've developed over the years, sticking to them religiously, well, at least for a time:
Race day, for example, I have down to a science. I get up, eat the same boring thing, usually shower, put on my fav sports bra, socks, shoes, shirt, shorts, etc, then queue up my running tunes or pump up playlist, spray on my favorite perfume (that I even travel with!), and I'm ready to roll.
When I run outside I follow the same route.
In college, I would never leave the basketball court after practice unless I made a layup, free throw, and three pointer in a row.
I also had a college basketball pregame routine where I wore the same bra (that eventually had about 30 holes in it), listened to the same songs, and prayed the exact same prayer during the National Anthem.
When I used to perform concerts at coffeehouses, I'd warm up to the same songs: "A Little More," sometimes "Blackbird," and "I Fall Apart."
When I go into an interview, I wear my Breckenridge ring or hold a paperclip in my hand to channel out any nervousness.
_____
One of my favorite plays, "Our Town," by Thorton Wilder explores the idea of our day-to-day life being a lot of the same from, yes, day-to-day. One of his deeper themes, however, is that life has been like this for thousands and thousands of years for humans: we all kind of do life in similar ways, and that's one of the major things that binds humanity together--our routines.
I think a lot of us don't like to admit we like routine because somewhere, somehow, we've related or wrongly equated the word to the word boring.
Honestly, routine isn't about boring.
Sure, maybe it's mundane, but a lot of our reality holds ties in the mundane.
It's grounding.
Humbling.
Normal.
Life.
Most of the time, I think, it's also about safety, comfort, efficiency, just to name a few. And there is nothing wrong with any of those things.
So be as boring as you want.
As predictable as you want.
Do the same things the same ways as many times as you want.
No one has the right to judge what's working for you!
March to the beat of your own rhythm of life.
After all, you only get one.
24: The Hardest Thing
What's the most difficult thing you've ever done?
One year I did what I THOUGHT was the most onerous thing on earth: I ran a full marathon. Besides being 26.2 miles, there were 20 mile an hour headwinds, 1600 feet in elevation gain, and around 20 hills, one of which was a two mile uphill climb known aptly as Hurricane Point. It wasn't laborious until mile 21 when my ankles were distressed with pain.
Little did I know that the three years that followed that marathon would actually be the most arduous three years of my life to date.
It was one thing after another.
The sadness following my Grandmother's death.
Several rounds of depression.
Love that wasn't really love.
Crippling anxiety.
Emotional wear and tear.
Heartbreak.
Losing several jobs at the hands of vindictive, conniving people.
Losing several close friends.
Loss after loss after loss.
It almost became comical.
Is this really all life is? One hard blow after another?
I was ready to throw in the towel.
And finally at my tipping point, whenever that was, I lost myself.
I turned into someone I didn't know.
Someone I didn't want to be, but I didn't know how to get back to myself.
It took a long time to sift through the deluge.
It took a long time for the old me to come back.
Me, only better.
So what is the hardest, most difficult thing in life?
I'm not sure I can pinpoint it to any one specific thing, if we're ranking.
When I was 25, I lost a job and never saw it coming. That was very hard, but for whatever reason I didn't go into a depression over it. I was sad and mostly confused about what happened. I got a job so quickly and moved that I didn't have much time to think about being upset. Sometimes that situation makes me wonder if ignorance is truly bliss.
I'd like to say that depression is the worst only because the second I thought I was out of it, I wasn't. It was a long climb to getting out of it at all. And honestly, some days I think I one swing from someone or something punching me back into it.
But I keep fighting.
I don't want to be there again.
I even wrote that on my dreamboard: stay away from depression and anxiety.
Some days the most grueling thing is anxiety. I usually wake up with it, and it shows up like an unannounced house guest that overstays his or her welcome. I know how to treat it naturally, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it never leaves soon enough.
Some days it's the thought of losing myself again. It's not easy to do, don't get me wrong, but still.
Some days it's the unexpected. A phone call. A rude text. The lack of a text. Someone's silence or unkindness. An issue at work. An unruly child.
Some days it's a void. A deceased loved one. A missing love. Presence. A warm body next to mine. Lips I long to kiss.
No matter what it is, though, on days when things are overwhelming, I repeat several mantras:
You've got this.
You did not wake up today to be mediocre.
Tomorrow is a new day where you'll wake up and feel better.
Your now is not your forever.
You ran a marathon.
Hell, you completed a full 140.6 Ironman.
(the marathon was more painful in the long run, FYI)
You're brave.
You can do hard things.
You're a fighter.
You're a badass.
And this:
Girl, no one is stronger than you. No one.
I am the strongest woman, I tell myself.
And I believe it.
Even if today is the hardest thing.
25: Gravity and Grace
This is a post I wrote about extending grace and some other stuff sort of about gravity. Because, why not?
And where there are different amounts of gravity, time supposedly moves differently. Well, it's relative. And I've read things like this: light is supposedly always moving in a straight line and never affected by gravity, just the curves of space-time. And gravity is a fictional force only present in a 3-dimensional world... These are all just science and theories. Or so they say. Those are the labels on them. I'd prefer the word proof for what has been proved. "Theory" just sounds too passé.
But it makes me wonder how many theories are truths and truths are theories and how many 'theories' and proofs we get wrong about each other everyday when we are off trying to prove what we already presupposed... What we already believed to be true instead of what actually is true. We spend more time trying to do these things instead of being empathetic and seeking pure, honest understanding of the other person. True friendships. Real love. Personal humility.
We brush things off and buy cheap, quick lies. It's our culture--the path of least resistance meets every man for themselves. Your lies will turn to what you think is truth if you believe them long enough, and your new 'truth' will often harbor contempt.
And we want to scream into the darkness: Whatever happened to extending grace and giving people the benefit of the doubt?!? Whatever happened to the Golden Rule?
So here.
Here on this earth we are all on the same 'page' gravitationally-speaking but still can feel light years, perhaps universes, away from people. We too often find, like light next to a black hole, that we can be looking at the same strand of light, but 'see' something completely different than the other person. And THESE realities of our heart, soul, and emotions, yes, have more force than gravity or any theory ever will contain.
Both the heart and gravity keep us grounded. Both hurt.
But Grace? She breaks all the rules.
26: Deposition and Erosion
Author's Note:
Erosion is a process of geological denudation, which involves the breakdown and transport of rock materials. Two other kinds of denudation often work ahead of erosion: weathering, the fragmenting of rock by physical, chemical and biological means; and mass wasting, wherein gravity begins pulling the rubble of weathering from its source. Erosion moves this material more substantially, often across long distances, via agents such as running water, glaciers and wind.
Deposition is the “yin” to erosion’s “yang.” At some point, an agent of erosion drops part or all of its load of rocks and sediments. Such depositions occur, for example, when a river loses some of its carrying power, as when its gradient or discharge diminishes. Glacial deposits might mark the site where the great ice body began retreating or where winds carried and distributed glacial sediment well away from the snout of the glacier.
https://sciencing.com/difference-between-erosion-deposition-8673914.html
Deposition and Erosion
If I had a chart of deposition and erosion for my life, it would look like this:
Mostly deposition throughout my childhood.
Erosion at age 9 when my Grandma-Great Carver died.
Deposition most of my teenage years.
Erosion when I was 19 losing a close friend and watching my brother figure out who he was.
So much tension that summer.
So much silence.
So many tears.
Deposition the rest of college.
College basketball scoring 1000 points.
Friendships for life.
Finding my first job.
Erosion losing it.
In college, no one ever tells you later in life you can lose a job.
Deposition finding a new one.
Traveling the US.
Traveling the world.
Meeting new friends.
Age 35, quite a summit.
Erosion at 36.
A small highlight of NY deposition.
Then the rest of 36 and 37, erosion.
A dark, perilous landslide.
Then finally healing.
Glacier, you were deposition.
You will always be my favorite place.
38 through now?
Nothing but a gradual climb to the mountaintop again.
Nothing but up and up.
So many good things now.
So much myself again.
From here, I can see where I've been--and to where I never want to return.
From here, I can see where I want to go.
The beauty, the magic of the human spirit, like nature, is that what breaks us can later save us.
But I hope I never falter again.
27: Feeling Good About Feeling Good
Last night I was talking to a friend of mine from college. Our lives have strangely paralleled each other since we met over 20 years, so anytime we talk, it's usually interesting, but also insightful.
I was giving her the rundown of the past six months or so of my life, and she did the same. A lot has happened. Most of it good for the both of us. She finally landed a job she can bear and has a man who adores her instead of running off like the last several guys did.
"What's next for you?" she asked.
"You know, I'm not sure," I replied. I gave her the quick summary of my current state of affairs: I'd applied for jobs overseas for my #1 choice to fall through. I'd applied for a job locally outside of education but not sure I'd get an interview. I'd quit going to church. I haven't dated for at least a year and when I do get online, my dating profile says I don't want to be in a relationship: I'm just looking for friends. It's true, and I don't necessarily need to be in a relationship, but then some days that line is a lie because I'm lonely, and I just want someone to come home to. I do know what I want isn't online. But that doesn't matter. Looking online is serious comedic relief. "I should send you some photos of these people!" I told her.
I told her I found my badass, confident self again. "And you know what? Here's the crux of it all: I'm happy. I'm happy with just BEING happy. I'm finally feeling good about feeling good. I don't want to rock the boat. I just want to soak up the moments I'm having before moving onto something or moving somewhere. Not saying someone or something won't pop up. I'm always open to the unexpected. But again, I'm good. I'm okay. I have shitty days now and then, but I let it roll and push through and am fine. Everyone has their days!"
We both laughed.
I swear I could see her smile through the phone.
"That's good! I'm so glad for you!"
It's true. A few months ago I drove to NY to visit and surprise some friends and felt very content then, too. So good, in fact, I'd realized when I got there, I didn't even cry a tear on the 1000 mile journey up there about anything related to the past few years of my life.
Don't laugh, and don't get me wrong: I'm a HUGE tender soul, a softy at heart. (I try to hide it sometimes). I cry a lot, and that's okay. That's what happens when you actually have a heart.
I texted a friend of mine while on that trip and told her that and that it was good to finally be on top of the mountain instead of staring at it, defeated.
It was so good to even have the ability to recognize how far I'd come from where I was just two Decembers ago.
And you know what? It's so good to feel this way at last. I never thought this day would come. I was in such a dark place in life that I'd forgotten what it would even feel like when it DID come around again.
It's so good to have my old self (who I think is now even a better me!) back in my own life.
And if you're friends with me, I know you agree: you're glad I'm back and better than ever.
28: Asteroids and Beyonce
Resilience.
I added this word to my vocabulary in my 20s. Probably too late, but you only can learn words as you hear or read them. So, my 20s it was.
When I hear about any word the first time, I attach it to something I can visualize and occasionally will come up with a unique way to remember how to say it. For this word, I likened it to some of my students at the time who were up against some very trying situations, but overcoming them like champs: poverty, sexual abuse, hunger, illness, an accident, heartache. "Wow," I thought. "These kids have some serious grit I'll never know."
As I've gotten older, though, I needed and then found resilience. I added it to my own personal vocabulary. I desire to be resilient when adversity stares me in the face. Who doesn't? And it's not about being weak. I loathe that word. The connotation of it is defeating, condescending.
Recently, scientists simulated an asteroid collision to see if they could destroy one. This has been a popular theory and idea for getting rid of those that could, at some point, be catapulting towards earth. The NY Times reported the research findings well: "the large asteroid cracked considerably, with debris flowing outward like a cascade of Ping-Pong balls. Despite some deep fractures, the heart of the asteroid was not comprehensively damaged. As time went on, the gravitational pull of the asteroid’s resilient core was able to pull back ejected shards. It seems that asteroids don’t just absorb mind-boggling amounts of damage, but, as previous work has hinted, they also are able to rebuild themselves."
I love those lines "the heart of the asteroid was not comprehensively damaged" and they "are able to rebuild themselves." And these are non-living, "natural" satellites.
Like an asteroid, these things are at the heart of being resilient as humans: heart. core. rebuilding.
And whatever our own personal gravitational pull is that can get us up and going each day and through our valleys, say it over and over again. Look at it over and over again. Listen to it over and over again. Because resilience, it's not for the weak or the dastardly; resilience is a word for the ones who wake up each day and say, I'm a phoenix. A BAMF. Beyonce. An overcomer. Hell, even an asteroid. I've got this. I've got this over and over and over again until you believe it. You fake it till you make it.
Then you're back and stronger than ever.
29: More Than Enough
"Amy, you're enough. You're more than enough."
These words were striking my ears but not penetrating my mind and my broken heart. In the moment that conversation took place, I didn't feel like enough. I felt like a failure. Surely there was something I could do differently to change this. Yes, I was convinced that if I was truly "enough," this situation would be different. These words were from a person I admired and respected very much, but I wasn't ready to process them. In fact it took me a few years for me to realize that my friend was speaking the truth.
I just wasn't ready or able to believe it because I didn't believe this to be true about myself.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I was and always had been putting out that I was confident, which was true for the most part, but in the back of my mind I felt like I came up a little short in everything in life or with others. I was very wrong, and hearing this sentence from a friend for the first time in my life became the impetus for me starting to believe I really was who she said I was: more than enough. Weird how sometimes others can see things in you that you can't. My friend knew who and what I was.
Because of my past and upbringing, the perception others had of me was of higher esteem than my own. I had coaches who knew I worked hard and hated losing, but wanted more out of me. I would hold back, and probably because even though I hated losing and wanted to win, there was always a little voice saying I wouldn't. I was my own worst enemy. I thought I would never be able to measure up in anything: basketball-I could always score more points or have less turnovers, relationships-I didn't deserve to be with that person, let alone find them on my own, life-someone else would always have a better job that me. Okay, so maybe not these exact situations, but you get the picture.
Not blaming my parents or anything, but I grew up in a household where my parents had very high expectations. I'm sure they praised me, but I remember more criticism and why didn't you do better in the ball game conversations than you really kicked ass in the ball game conversations. And for the longest time, I let this lie about myself, that I wasn't good enough, invade my whole being and self-perception. Also when I was young, I had a family member tell me there was no hope for me in the dating world. I held on to that lie for way too many years. It took me years to realize she was just projecting insecurities about her own self onto me. Her lie led me to other lies I told myself: that I wasn't pretty enough, sexy enough, experienced enough, desirable enough, and on and on. I figured I never could get anyone interested in me because of all these things that I wasn't. Back then, I never thought I had much to offer. Now, I believe quite the opposite about myself!
I also grew up in a very conservative church and household hearing songs that proclaimed that "Jesus Loves Me This I Know" but also "I’m not worthy to be here, but Praise God! I belong!" Okay, Gaither Band. *eye roll* Still to this day there are hymns and Christian songs on the radio that talk about humans not being enough or worthy, but now that I'm older, I believe this to be a bunch of bullshit and a lie that Christians (some, not all) apply to the rest of their lives, unfortunately. I contend there are a LOT of people not feeling worthy of God's love and their husband's love and their good job they just landed and on and on. Talk about millions who probably have inferiority complexes! All of this "not enough talk" gets falsely equated with worthlessness and unworthiness in our own personal lives. All lies. Not a single one of us is perfect, but just because I don't deserve something in the religious realm, doesn't mean that I'm not enough for a divine being, let alone a human.
I'll get off my soapbox for now.
So back to those words:
"You're more than enough."
I ruminated on them for a long time until one day they finally clicked. It clicked, and it was time to shut off the past and move into actually loving myself and realizing who I really am and what I have to offer. After several years of studying the brain and how we can rewire our own thinking in incorrect ways to believe lies about ourselves, well, that's when it made sense at last. I had been therapy years ago for a phobia, and my therapist talked to me about how my brain had taught itself lies: "You're scared and not safe." I went back to those lessons from him about finding truth, rewiring my thinking, and believing what is true, and was able to apply them years later to finally see the this: I really was more than enough. I had lied to myself and created a lack of self-esteem inside a girl who was actually and wanted to be the most confident person in the room.
And if you know me now, you know confidence is not an issue. ;)
But you know what?
This confidence I have?
It's genuinely the real deal.
Not some facade created by a girl trying to convince herself over and over of something, trying to fake it till she makes it.
I no longer view myself through the lens of my naive, youthful self.
I no longer wonder why others may or may not like me. Some people are just oil and water.
I now have the ability to decipher a lie about myself, even if someone else spits out something hurtful. I'll get over it, and now I have no doubt that I actually will.
I can be as good or great as I want to be, for me, my goals, or even for another person. What I set my mind to do, I'll accomplish. And I know this now.
I feel like nothing is out of reach if I work hard at it.
I now not only know the truth, I also finally believe it.
And those words still are, and always will be, true.
True as the day my friend shared them with me.
I'm more than enough.
For me, yes, but also for anyone who is vulnerable enough to let me in.
30: It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn
Three years.
That's about how long it took for me to muddle through all my depression, anxiety, and find myself again.
I wrote a lot about those times, but started one of my writings with this:
"I missed out on a year of life.
At least.
Well, sort of.
Maybe more."
But there's been something recently that has had me baffled: I think I suffered some memory loss at some point, or at minimum, forgot a lot of things. They weren't big things, but they were still things like people's birthdays or the fact that I'd had new neighbors... who moved in 3.5 years ago. Sounds silly I'm sure, but to me, it's not. It bothered me. I remember everything, and when a few details got moved around in my mind, when I was finally able to sit down and think through my depression AFTER it was over, yes, that was when I began wondering how deep the hole I was in actually was. How far gone was I that couldn't even remember the easy stuff? How stuck was I? How close to taking my own life was I? When I try to answer those questions, it scares me. I was a shell of a dead man walking.
Not that they answered everything, but I did read a few articles including this one about how depression affects memory that helped me understand what I might have been going through. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/25562416?dopt=Abstract
It's amazing how long it takes to get out of the darkness and how much of your mind you have to rebuild and keep rebuilding, even now.
It's also amazing how everything makes sense now and how I can more readily comprehend everything and reflect on my past and current state of affairs.
And most recently, I've just been trying to take in more, remember more, relax, enjoy, and not forget how far I've come and where I'm going. Because I will not go back to where I was.
I'll learn to walk in the dark if I need to, and if I'm in a hole, I won't keep digging.
Because I know now that it's always the darkest before the dawn.
31: That's Not What Ships Are For
“A ship in harbor is safe — but that's not what ships are for.” — John A. Shedd
Several years ago after someone tried to break into my friend's camper on a camping trip I was on, I made a decision to try EMDR therapy in order to help with my fear of break-ins. Keep in mind that just a few short years before that incident, I'd had two break-ins in two separate apartments, so my fears were merited. Any noise or creak in my house would cause me to be paralyzed with fear. I'd lock myself in my bathroom for up to an hour at a time. I wouldn't get out of my bed if I thought someone was in or near my house, even though it was probably a tree limb hitting the roof or a neighborhood cat playing in my shrubs.
My therapist helped me realized very quickly that "safe" was a word that my brain deemed important, and that word had been altered due to the trauma of the three break-ins. Part of EMDR training is making sure to "rewire" your brain, moving it from a false lie it has created to a truth. I need to move from thoughts like "I was stupid for leaving the window unlocked" and "I should've done ..... instead" to "I made a mistake and that's okay" and "I'm safe even if I made a mistake." Sounds like the power of positive thinking or something like that, but honestly, that was what the therapy did. Over the course of 2-3 months, I would go over my scary break-in situations with my therapist and then walk back through them with these affirmative and confident thoughts in my mind, instead. Yes, it worked.
Since this therapy, I began to take notice of the word safe in my everyday life, and my therapist was correct: "safe" is a word I like and value. What he didn't know, though, is that "safe" is also juxtaposed inside one very confident, close to fearless, and adventurous gal, which creates a dichotomy that presents a lot of "is this the right choice, or that?" and "should I say this? or that?" moments. If you know me well, you probably know that I say what I think, and sometimes not in a very tactful manner. And a lot of my friends tell me on a regular basis that I'm ballsy. So yeah. All of that stuffed inside one brain.
But that doesn't mean I always feel safe. I don't.
It's a very vulnerable thing for me to admit that even though I may come across like "I've got this," I'm often struggling with what will be the safest option.
Do I apply for this job?
Do I let this person have it for being a jerk to me?
Do I admit I'm wrong?
Do I let this person know I'm totally head over heals in love with them?
So, to be even a little more vulnerable, I have to admit that more than a lot of the time, and more than I let on, I stay on the shore. You and I both know it's safe there. I don't want to stay on the shore, don't get me wrong, but after weighing all the options, sometimes that's the best place for now, even if it's the last thing I really want for my life.
Yeah, this confident, close to fearless, and adventurous gal lets "safe" win out.
But someday, maybe, I'll allow my ship to navigate away from the harbor.
Maybe I'll allow others on board.
Maybe you'll join me on all or part of the journey. Embark for new shores, safe or not, far away from any trepidation where I currently am.
Then, I'll do what I was made to do: go, talk, admit, and love.
32: I Can Change
"Tracin' an old pattern
Drawing the lines from where I am and from where I wanna be"
Forget that old adage
That history continues to keep us from the world we wanna see
I am scared that I won't get it right
But fear won't rule my heart tonight
I can change, I can change, I can still change, I can still change"
- Lake Street Dive "I Can Change" lyrics
Our bodies were created to die. This morbid thought struck me a few weeks ago after a former student of mine passed away. On the way to his funeral, I was listening to a variety of music and a song by the group Imaginary Future came on:
"Baby, isn't it crazy that we are born only to die?
Oh, but lately, I've been counting my stars, 'Cause I will spend my whole life loving you."
I pondered the born to die line, then I shifted my thoughts past the love part to something else: our bodies have this innate ability to adapt and change.
And we should all be grateful for that fact.
Physically, our bodies pretty much renew themselves every 7-15 years, while other parts of us have cells that are replaced on the weekly. We grow from conception to our adult sizes over the course of 12-18 years. We can become obese, build muscle, age with wrinkles and gray hairs, and have a skin graft if some other part of our body sustains injury. What a marvel it is that our bodies have the ability to change and adapt without our brains even second guessing it.
A few years ago I put on 20lbs during some depression, and right after losing it the year before. I decided to train for a full Ironman in hopes that the weight would slip right off. It did at first. I lost 13lbs in about 8 weeks. Then it came back, but the good thing was that it came back as pretty much all muscle. I had calf and quad muscles like I'd never had before. I had some serious abs and wasn't even doing crunches. My shoulders grew broad and my back was sculpted from hours of swimming each week. My finish line photo from my race? It showed off all of my hard work in any bare part of skin that was showing, which I loved. I went into the year wanting to lose weight, but walked away completely changed, and loving my strong, muscly body. My own body changes allowed me to have a stronger mental outlook and a more positive self-image, which in turn led to more confidence. Our bodies: we spend so much time have them control how we think we should feel about ourselves. Weird, isn't it?
Mentally speaking, we can change our outlook, our mind, our behaviors, and our brain can even reroute itself in a plethora of ways, both good and bad. A few years ago I had a phobia of break ins (after experiencing three) and went to EMDR therapy to help my brain refocus itself and overcome my fear. It worked! Since then, I'm always eager to read about how our brains can be rewired or learn to start over. The brain is an anomaly, a mystery, and a phenomenon.
Change isn't always easy, though. This is something most of us learn early in life after the first let down or major life event that rocks our world. I fight a lot of change. Routine is comfortable. When a foreign thought invades, sometimes it's overwhelming. There are a lot of things that hit us throughout our lives that we just cannot control no matter how much we want them to. One of my college teammates called the rough spots in life growing pains. "No one likes them," she stated, "but everyone has to go through them in order to grow and learn." She told me these words long before she went through two of the most difficult times in her life: a divorce and losing her sister. I know for a fact she didn't like either one of those situations, but they changed her. She couldn't help but not be.
And that's part of it. We can't predict a lot of what happens in life, but at some point in our lives we have to allow ourselves to learn and grow from all the unexpecteds that occur. Sometimes, that's the change that's the hardest: the ones we didn't see coming--the ones we fight more than we probably should.
But for the ones we do, the ones we can change if we want, there is a new day coming. The older I've gotten, the more I remember that theme that is constantly present in literature and music lyrics, and I've found a lot of solace in the thought that I can reset each morning I rise.
Tomorrow is a new day to live out my dreams, kick ass and take names, and move out away from any fears from where I am to where I want to be.
And who doesn't want that?
33: Becoming
“For every door that’s been opened to me, I’ve tried to open my door to others. And here is what I have to say, finally: Let’s invite one another in. Maybe then we can begin to fear less, to make fewer wrong assumptions, to let go of the biases and stereotypes that unnecessarily divide us. Maybe we can better embrace the ways we are the same. It’s not about being perfect. It’s not about where you get yourself in the end. There’s power in allowing yourself to be known and heard, in owning your unique story, in using your authentic voice. And there’s grace in being willing to know and hear others. This, for me, is how we become.”
― Michelle Obama, Becoming
How do we become the person we want to be? There are so many factors. How can we give what we don't have? We start practicing what we want. And so, becoming, means doing what you want to do to become the person you want to be. Only you can change you, even though, yes, there are things outside of our control that may happen to us. Those things are always a wild card, unpredictable, and sometimes unsettling.
Part of growing and becoming who we are is being humble enough to say, "I don't have my shit together. I don't have it all figured out. I don't know everything. I am a work in progress."
Right now?
I'm saying all those things to you in this blog post.
I wish I had my shit ALL together. At this point in my life, I mostly do. I'd say I have about 98% of my life together, I'm content, and I'm happy. But some days, my life and my head are admittedly a shit show--that damn 2%. If you're there doing well for you, you know what I mean. Yes, if you're there at that 98% "I've got my shit together" level and if you're being honest, you have that 2%, too, that gives you fits. I don't think anyone is ever 100% perfect all the time. It's just not realistic. A lot of my 2% is anxiety related. I deal with it and treat it immediately when I have it. I let the day come, cry if I need to, get over it, and keep rolling as best I can. Aside from that, I know my current hangups. I'm self-aware. I know what I want to work on. But I'm also sensitive, caring, and compassionate. I try really hard to treat others with those traits, as well as immense love and kindness and not screw anything up with anyone. If I hurt someone or bothered someone, I get really upset with myself because I don't ever want to cause anyone any grief. I desire peace, feeling safe, and as many good days in life as possible. I try really hard everyday to be the best version of me I can for myself and others.
You might have read that our lives rarely follow a linear path. We do age, yes, but everyone's life is so different based on the experiences that are thrown at us or the ones that we go after and create.
What else does it take to become the person you want to be? For me it was and is knowing what I wanted and going after it. It's finding your "why"--at any age. When I was a kid, I just knew my dreams. I wanted to play college ball. I wanted to make straight A's. I wanted to go into the medical field. Then, a chain of events spun off and my life trajectory changed, and it was due to some teachers and coaches. Several were inspirational (the coaches and my English teachers) while two others (a science and a math teacher) were draining and caused me to ditch the medical field idea. Those who were inspiring me, led me to want to coach and teach. No medical field for me, but that was okay. I sometimes regret that choice, but it's too late to become a doctor. As a teenager, I was becoming and being me, and I fulfilled my straight As dream in high school and my masters. I fulfilled my college ball dream, starting every game in all four years but one and scoring over 1000 points. I looked up to and respected my teachers and coaches and anything I could learn from them. I let life come as it may, and I let these situations change me. Currently, I have dreams and aspirations, yeah, but I'm not so close-minded to new ones that might arise. My why? Sometimes I think my life motto is "Why not?" but for the most part, my why is because I can. Silly? No. I don't have to do something for a person or a deep reason. I do things because I want to and can. I do things because I'm passionate and effervescent.
Most of my adult life has been letting life come, and me learning from it. For me, becoming means you start with a foundation of values that you never let go of. Some of mine are gratitude, loyalty, kindness, love, integrity, feeling safe, hard work, versatility, being genuine, being passionate, and honesty. When you have this foundation, then anything that comes your way, and any goal you set, you use your core values as a filter for all your decisions.
Another part of becoming me has been allowing myself to learn from my mistakes. I know as well as anyone in this world that failure happens, but we don't have to let it destroy us or crush our spirit. Part of this is being resilient. Part of this is owning your shit when you make a mistake. Humility. Dropping your pride. I have a huge problem with people who can't or refuse to do this. And then part of this is revising and rewriting your life story, just like I do with a lot of my blog posts. Nothing is ever perfect, including me, and I find beauty and solace in the ability to add or delete in order to move towards the closest I can get to perfection. Forgiving and going easy on yourself are hallmarks of a strong person. If you can't do that for yourself, you sure as hell won't do it for someone else.
Becoming also means giving. Giving second chances. Restoring friendships. Forgiveness. Grace. Mercy. I've learned to give those things and even hope to receive them from others. Those who don't show such kindness and gentleness are not people I want to be around. Who am I, who are you, to not extend these things to our friends or even a stranger? No one is undeserving. Know your worth. I know mine. I also know I'm not perfect. Close, but not. ;)
In more recent years, becoming has meant setting goals, having a dream board, and going after everything I desire. Everything from crushing a half-marathon PR to doing an Ironman to staying away from depression and anxiety are items that have been on any of those lists. I know what my heart wants, what I want for my life. I know who I want in my life and who I try to surround myself with: which friends, which co-workers, which anyone. I want the best for me, and I don't say that from a place of selfishness.
I also believe in self-care and self-love. The past few years have taught me those are also the foundation to not only becoming, but also just being my best self. I've found that those who do not practice self-care and self-love really aren't that enjoyable to be around. I was in several relationships the past 15 years with others who were not in a good state with themselves (alcohol abuse for one and thought process OCD that made them not want to get close to me for another), and guess what? I was treated poorly. Hurt people, hurt people. When you don't love you, you can't love someone else correctly. It's a sad truth and reality, but if you've been there, you know what I'm talking about. People will always tell you how they feel about themselves by the way they talk. If you pay attention, it doesn't take long to figure out if a person's self-esteem is broken or skewed. In more recent years, I try to avoid negative people.
Last, becoming, to me, means what Michelle Obama wrote in my introductory quote: Inviting others in. Vulnerability. Vulnerability has not been an easy thing for me, ever, until more recent years, but I do know now who my best friends are. I know who I can text or talk to about anything. I know who knows me and still hasn't left regardless of my shortcomings, past, or anything about me that is negative. Those 2.5 friends mean more to me than anyone in the world, and I make sure to tell them often, whether in text, in person, or in a card or email. Whether they respond to my words and gratitude or not, they know who they are in my life. They know I need them in my life and that they're like fresh air to me. I am richly blessed with so many things and good people in my life. They, too, believe in me and my dreams. They, too, have helped me become.
And that's part of it.
We don't do any of this life on our own.
Admit it!
Part of us becoming who we are, well, probably a large part of it was due to someone else or something I did with someone or an idea someone passed along. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with any of those things. That's why there are millions, billions of humans on this earth and not just one. It's why I need my family and 2.5 friends. Maya Angelou wrote in her poem "Alone," "Nobody, but nobody. Can make it out here alone."
So this work in progress, me, I'm here to tell you this:
Thanks for letting me not be perfect.
Thanks for letting me own my shit.
Thanks for letting me be kind and sweet and giving to you.
Thanks for being my friend, if we're friends.
Thanks for seeing me at my worst and not going anywhere.
Because remember this part from the quote from above, "There’s grace in being willing to know and hear others."
Yes. Thank you for that grace and for hearing me.
Thank you for letting me be unabashedly myself.
But most of all, thank you for letting me become as you do the same.
PART SIX: THE ENTIRE “THE MOUNTAINTOP AND THE YEAR I MISSED”
“Don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.”
- Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
I missed out on a year of life.
At least.
Well, sort of.
Maybe more.
I was alive, but dead inside.
I wasn't okay.
I tried to be okay.
I couldn't.
I tried, though.
There are things I wanted to do and couldn't.
There are things I missed, and didn't want to.
There are things I was supposed to be doing and couldn't bring myself to do them.
Glued to my bed.
Crippled with enormous anxiety.
Heavy with a downcast spirit.
Washing away in tides of tears.
Lost in my mind.
So lost in the swirling sadness.
Why was I even alive?
I walked out the door of work for the summer in tears.
My daily routine was about to change for 10 weeks because I'm a teacher, and we have summers off.
No work.
No work friends.
No bells.
No students.
Just me, alone with my thoughts.
I can't do this.
I ran away to the mountains hoping they would cure me.
I ran away to find someone hoping they would cure me.
I ran to people who couldn't save me.
I tried to save myself.
I prayed to God hoping he would do something.
I drowned myself in tears hoping I could cry it out.
I ran and ran and ran hoping I could run it off.
If there is an end, I'll finish.
If there is a cure, I'll find it.
If there is healing, I'll heal.
Nothing worked.
If sadness was a flood, I was long drown.
If depression was real, I'd finally realized it.
If I was going to make it to the other side, where was it?
Was it over the mountains I was climbing near Breckenridge?
Was it over the mountains I was hiking the same week in Rocky Mountain National Park?
Was it a year, five years, ten years down the road?
What was wrong with me?
Where was my happy?
Where was I?
Who was I?
"Time will heal your wounds." What a sick, sardonic cliche.
Time is a bitch.
Ok, so maybe she isn't female.
Maybe time is a shitty ass man.
A shitty ass human.
Or like a friend who wasn't on my side.
Or a pet that doesn't follow commands.
No, time, for me, was just another noun with no positive connotations, analogies, metaphors, or similes.
So, I rode it out.
Rode it out thinking and trying everything except professional help.
Professional sounded so out of place and too formal.
Too formal for my free-spirited soul.
Help: strong women don't ask for help.
I don't need help, I retorted.
But I had a wounded soul.
And band-aids don't fix bullet holes.
My vision and imagination were too myopic to see what I needed.
I couldn't see the end, my way out.
If I could only have seen it, would that have mattered?
I didn't know someone would eventually help me.
If I'd only had someone step in sooner. Intervene. Would that have changed anything?
Depression.
Round one: I never saw any of it coming. I didn't even know what I was going through. It was mostly just eternal sadness. 24 hours every day and every night.
Round two: I saw it come on like a slow fade-out of an already lengthy and melodramatic ‘80s song at a high school school dance.
Round three: Wasn't supposed to happen but it did. You can't control horrible, conniving people who take your job from you.
Round four: See "all of the above." Then, add, "I've got this." Yeah, right.
Round five: I knew it was coming, but didn't believe it. Conceitedly, I laughed it off. I told myself I'd be okay: I made it past rounds one through four, after all.
Round six: WTAF Covid/2020…
How many more rounds will this life hold?
I'm done swinging.
I don't have to swing anymore.
I'm done fighting my demons.
I'm not saying I don't have bad days.
I do.
I'm not saying my demons still don't haunt me.
They do.
But they're not a part of where I am now.
And I didn't save myself.
A million little things saved me each time around.
A nudge saved me.
A friend saved me.
Tough love saved me.
Love saved me.
My faith saved me.
The mountains saved me.
Counseling saved me.
Running saved me.
A 140.6 mile race saved me.
A renewed friendship saved me.
Sleep saved me.
Time saved me.
You saved me.
It wasn't one thing.
It wasn't one person, even though I wanted it to be that easy.
It never is.
But it gets better. That is not a cliche.
That mountaintop?
It's out there.
It's a haul.
Tiring.
Grueling.
You might miss a year of your life training for it or climbing up it, a year you wanted to spend doing other things.
You might have to turn around.
But you'll climb it, and sometimes more than once.
And damn, it's worth the view.
How do I know?
I'm finally there.
THE END!
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