#ConniesYearOfSelfCare2019 Part 2

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels

In Part 1 I talked about how I came to make self care my theme for 2019 and how I was allowing myself time to figure out exactly what I wanted that to mean. I also mentioned that I was writing about it mostly to keep it top of mind, because I've struggled with that in the past.

Well, I have good news on both fronts. I now have a list of habits, essentially, that I had already started and want to continue, that I want to improve upon, or that I want to even start in the first place...and that I believe will contribute to improving my health. More on that later.

Also, remarkably, self care has stayed top of mind so far. I honestly think the biggest reason is that I changed my Facebook cover photo to the graphic that accompanied Part 1. You don't see your own profile photo as often as you look at others', but I've found myself going back to my own profile to look for something often enough that I end up thinking "oh right, self care!" relatively frequently. I also put a reminder in my phone for the first of every month: "This year is about self care!" So...better living through technology, I guess!

* * * *

So...here's the habit list, broken down by minimum frequency. (What I'm not going to do is say—at least yet—how well I'm doing on each of these. I gotta have some secrets. ;)

Twice daily
Taking supplements

Daily

Walking or other exercise

Dental care

Skin care

Meditation

Reading

Twice Weekly
Stretching

Weekly

Acupuncture

Yoga

Creative hobby (such as coloring, music, calligraphy/lettering, photography)

Monthly

Reiki

Massage

Yearly

Vacation

There's probably more that could be added to this list. But these are my focus, at least for now.

* * * *

Next time I'll have to share about a workshop I attended in January. Its content seriously has the potential to change my life. Some workshops you don't end up getting much out of, but not this one! I mean, it's May, and I'm still thinking about it. Stay tuned!

#ConniesYearOfSelfCare2019: Part 1

I can't remember the moment when I began thinking about making this my theme for 2019. I just know I started thinking about it sometime before the start of the new year, and then, on January 1st, I made this graphic and changed my Facebook cover photo to it. I do remember realizing that at the very least, I needed to be taking a lot better care of myself than I presently do.

The fact that I turn 50 in less than 6 months could also have something to do with it.... ;)

Then there's always the chronic conditions that are the bane of my existence, namely depression, low energy, and acid reflux, to name the top three. They will get none better (and indeed will probably get worse) if I simply maintain the status quo.

Anyway, I'm sharing this journey as much to help keep it top of mind as anything else. Because I know from too much experience how difficult it can be to see something through that you start in January. So I figured writing about it could be a way to make it more of a 'thing.'

* * * *

The fact that it's a theme and not a resolution is very much on purpose. As I alluded to above, I've done the set-a-resolution-with-too-little-follow-through thing before. (Yeah, not fun when you realize later how poorly a resolution you'd set turned out.) Enough so that for a few years there, I stopped making resolutions and I think for some of those years, didn't even try to think about changing anything in particular. Even though a lot needs to be changed.

* * * *

The beautiful thing is that after only a little over two weeks into the new year, I've realized a few things that feel significant.

First, it dawned on me that I didn't have to figure out the "one right thing" to work on or habit to try to implement or whatever...on or before January 1. I could take some time to figure out what better self care will look like for me in 2019. So...I'm giving myself time to figure it out. I'm letting it be OK that I don't have the entire set of definitive answers—yet.

I think part of my follow-through problems in the past (well, besides being not great at it generally, lol) was: the more I tied any resolution to the start of a new year, the more I told myself "I'm going to do X every day," the greater the chances, it seemed, that it would fail. I think it just created too much pressure.

Second, since I started using a self-care journal (second link below) and writing down whatever I'd done in a given day that seemed self-care-ish, I was able to realize: I'm doing more that fits into the self-care category than I'd realized, so it's not like everything is garbage...and maybe I need to cut myself a break. How's that for a revelation.

* * * *

The other brilliant (I thought ;) idea I had was to during January schedule as many of my self-care appointments for the year as possible. That way they're already set up and I don't have to worry about scheduling any more of them until next year. So—I now have one massage and reiki appointment each scheduled for every month in 2019. I still need to do the same for an eye doctor appointment and possibly a medical wellness check. I'm also giving acupuncture a real try, but I don't know how long I'll be getting it regularly because I don't know yet how much it's helping me. (It can have a cumulative effect, and I'm still waiting to see if enough good effect will accumulate to make it worth it.)

Here are some of the other things I've done so far to further my self care in 2019:

• Read The Self-Care Project by Jayne Hardy (founder and CEO of The Blurt Foundation, which provides support and resources to people with depression)
• Bought and began using this self-care journal (And by the way, I'm letting it be OK if I don't write in it every single day.)
• Divided up my supplements so I can begin taking them twice instead of once a day, for better results (sometimes, it's the little things...)
• Set a reading goal (of 24 books) for the year, finished the one I was reading when the new year started, read a second, started on a third (I joined a book club late last year, so I'm hopeful that will motivate me to choose reading over, say, Netflix more often than I did last year)

* * * *

So...that's where I'm at. Here's to the journey as it unfolds.

Things That (Can) Help Depression

Photo by it's me neosiam from Pexels

Yesterday Cameron Kasky (one of the organizers of the March For Our Lives) tweeted that he hasn't been as active lately because he's been "struggling with depression and anxiety in a stronger form than [he's] ever seen it." I responded supportively, including saying that I know firsthand how debilitating depression can be. @Jennife42049695 replied and asked if I had any advice for managing depression.

I thought long and hard before replying. Because...I still live with depression. It's not like I've conquered it or anything. But today during my lunch hour, I sat down to write a careful reply.

Also, as it turns out...today is World Mental Health Day. I'd already thought about sharing my reply here; once I learned what today was, I knew I had to.

So...here's (an edited version of) what I told Jennifer, in case it's helpful to anyone listening in:

As you may know, depression generally isn't like: get depressed, do X to fix it, and then everything’s better. It doesn't tend to work like that.

Having said that, there are some things I suggest, because I find them helpful (not necessarily in this order):

1. Figure out who in your life can and will—and who can’t or won’t—be able to handle hearing your pain, will hold space for it, and will give you empathy. Then when you share (if you share), do it only with the former.
    
2.  Find community with others who are living the "same" experience. It can be incredibly validating to hear others say “me too!” When I've felt the need to, I've attended a Depression and Bipolar Alliance support group.
    
3. Refuse to beat yourself up for resting when you’re too exhausted to do anything. If you don’t have the energy, you don’t have the energy—period. That does not mean you’re lazy.
    
4. If you're able to, get medical advice. If you have to start with a general practitioner, be sure to ask for a referral to a specialist. (Most general practitioners aren’t taught much about psychology.) There's zero shame in taking medication for depression. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If it helps balance the chemistry in your brain and makes you feel better, then—it helps, period.
    
5. Find an integrative medicine doctor (separate from #4), get an integrative health consult, and do as many of the things they suggest as possible.
    
6. Related to #5: Try as many “alternative” things as possible until you figure out what helps you. Even if you're skeptical about them. As long as you believe you'll remain safe, there's generally no harm in trying them. I’m talking about things like yoga, massage, acupuncture, reiki, meditation, etc. I believe all of those have helped me at least a little. And—I’m still trying things.
    
7. If you haven't already, figure out what kind(s) of music make you feel joyful, and listen to it when you're especially down (and even when you're not). This has a measurable health benefit.
    
8. When you feel up to it, get out in nature and enjoy the beauty. This also has a measurable health (specifically mental health!) benefit. 

If you struggle with depression, what do you think of the things on my list? What helps you? Post a comment and let me know.

I Have to Believe It

Yes, that's me. Photo taken May 16, 2016, by Jessi Matthews.

This is going to be a really personal post. I haven't written a super-personal post in a long time; 'course I haven't written a post at all in a long time. But I need to get this out, and I'm sharing it because...well, it's what I do.

I had a reiki session for the first time tonight. At the beginning of the session, my reiki practitioner used a guided meditation to sort of lead me into it. For part of it, she said to picture myself in a very beautiful place and imagine that this place was just for me.

My mind immediately went to the Oregon coast, which so far I have visited twice, exactly a year apart. I know they were exactly a year apart because both times were on my birthday. The first of those times, my dear friend Jessi and I sat on a log on the sand and talked while we enjoyed the beauty. It was mostly overcast and a little chilly, but it was still beautiful.

Back to the guided meditation: This time I pictured myself there alone, just standing on the beach and enjoying what in my vision was now beautiful weather—warm and sunny, with the sun reflecting on the water, turning the view from beautiful to spectacular.

At this point in the reiki session, the guided meditation stopped, but I kept picturing myself there...as if I lived there, and one by one, other elements came into the picture. I know what was happening: I was envisioning my dream life. The other elements were all things I have dreamed about doing, having, being...but that haven't happened yet for a variety of reasons. (Some of them,...much to my grief.)

I'm walking along the beach because I have the energy to do that. My body looks more like I want it to than it does now. I'm throwing a frisbee to my dog. I'm joined by my loving partner. I have indeed found someone to grow old with. He loves me fiercely. And I him.When we go back to the house, we don't have to go far because it's right on the beach. (No one said my dream life would be cheap.) In the great room, there's a grand piano. (Again with the not-cheap.) I'm working toward entering the [Van] Cliburn International Amateur Piano Competition. This is a house that I've decorated myself because I have the energy to do that. We host lovely dinner parties because I actually do want to be the hostess sometimes. I am as "domestic" as I feel like being because I have the energy to do things I feel like doing. (Are you sensing a theme yet?) I have a job that I love. I do volunteer work that helps people and that I find meaningful. I have a part-time (at least) singing career because...well, that is my truest passion.

Back to the present for a moment: I think many people in my life think that my biggest passion is English—grammar, writing...because I talk/post about that rather frequently. And I'm not un-passionate about that. But ever since my college days, ironically after I stopped being a music major ("piano performance emphasis"), a love for singing like I'd never known awakened (even though I'd been in various choirs for several years by that point). And singing does bring me a kind of joy that nothing else does. Most of the time though, (when I'm not in one of the handful of choirs I've been in since that time) I don't generally sing. It's odd. But I think it's because emotionally,...I'm not usually in a place to even want to sing. Like, it doesn't even occur to me. In case it sounds weird to you that I wouldn't want to do something that brings me joy...that's called deep depression, my friend.

I'm suddenly realizing, with all of this talk of what my true passion is and of how much I have not yet self-actualized...that I am still, however unintentionally, suppressing my true self. Daaamn. Now if only bringing my true self to the fore were as easy as it had been the first time (moving out of my parents' house and going to college).

Because now the challenge is to believe that I can have that kind of life—or at least that I can make many of those elements a reality.

Which brings me back to my vision. The phrase that popped into my head and just kept recurring to me was: "I have to believe it."

Because right now,...I don't. That's the bare truth of it.

The cultural narrative of "you just have to believe in yourself" and "well, you have to have hope" is strong enough that I almost feel ashamed to admit this. But if you'd had a life filled almost entirely (so far) with heartbreak, how would you feel?

So tonight that's where I'm at. Knowing I need to believe in a better future for myself. And not yet being sure of how to do that—or even that I won't resist any effort in that direction. (My cynicism runs deep, yo.)

Never has the phrase "hoping against hope" meant so much to me.

I just know that if I actively believe it won't happen, then it very likely won't.

I'm also realizing...I have to make it happen. *sigh* And we're right back to...that'll happen someday when I have the energy for it. There's that theme again.

So what I actually have hope in right now are the mind/body practices I've been trying lately—namely, reiki, massage, trauma releasing exercises, yoga. Because getting my body to work better has to be step one. And they are showing promise in that regard.

So...current state: Staying the course.

My Depression: #WhatYouDontSee

Yesterday I saw on Twitter that it's Depression Awareness Week and that an organization called The Blurt Foundation was launching a social media campaign called #WhatYouDontSee. It's a genius concept because...that's the thing about mental illness: You literally cannot see it. In some cases (like when someone self harms, for example), you can see evidence of it. But you cannot see the illness itself. And as a result of that (and many other factors), misunderstanding and stigma abound. And these things only make it worse for sufferers. The Blurt Foundation said they were "determined to challenge the stigma around what depression 'should' look like, and show the world that ANYONE can be affected by poor mental health." So am I.

So during my lunch hour, I started tweeting and Faceboking (simultaneously, thanks to the Selective Tweets app) some of the ways that depression affects me. My first post announced that I was participating, and then another early post shared the link to Blurt's Huffington Post article about the week and the campaign.

One thing I noticed pretty quickly: It was crazy easy to come up with examples. I found that to be quite telling.

But the other thing that happened was also telling. Because of the way Facebook works, some of my friends didn't see my first post or the one sharing the article. So they assumed I was posting about what I was going through right then, and they responded with care and concern. And of course, that's lovely. I certainly wouldn't want them to respond any other way. But what I'm betting a lot of them don't realize is....

I live with that shit every. damn. day.

And—that's sort of the point too, isn't it? I live with it all the time, and many in my life have no idea. Or at least...that is how it often seems.

Now, to be fair, some days are better than others. And, with the way my depression tends to work, some parts of days are better than others. It's not equally bad all day, every day. (And thank goodness for that.)

But depression (in a similar way to grief, actually...though the two are different) can rear its ugly head at any moment, and then I'm experiencing one or more of the things I posted about—or any of a myriad other things; it just depends.

It's time we normalized the experiences of those with mental illness. In fact, it's way past time. And by "normalize," I mean: to help others living with it know that the things they experience are normal for their condition. And it's past time we helped those living with it know: You are not alone. And it's past time we corrected the many misconceptions that are out there, like...it's just a bit of sadness, and one could snap out of it if they wanted to. Nothing could be further from the truth.

These are the reasons I'm sharing so personally this week.

With sharing comes greater awareness. With awareness comes greater understanding. With understanding comes a greater capacity for connection and empathy. Both for those suffering and for others around them. (And as Brené Brown says, in the RSA video The Power of Empathy, "...rarely can a response make something better. What makes something better is connection.")

If you're living with depression and want to participate in the campaign, you can simply talk about it on social media, and use the hashtag #WhatYouDontSee.

If you're struggling with depression or think you might be, and you could use some help, start here.

When Grief is Not Enough

In the years since my loss and in the grief that came after it, I have heard many a message about seizing the day, about living fully—because life is short, and we don’t know when our own will end. And, hello—a loved one's death drives that home. Except…when it’s not enough to fully drive that message home.

Wait,…what?!? You mean the love of your life died and your most-cherished dreams shattered, and that's not enough for you?!?

How could it possibly not be enough to do that?

When depression is your other constant companion, that’s how.

If I’ve learned one thing about depression from my own experience, it’s that, contrary to popular belief, depression is not just about being sad. It’s about being so sad that you are de-motivated. For anything and everything. Even things you supposedly want. (Well, that’s my layperson’s definition, anyway. I’ve just…lived it is all.)

And having survived the death of the person I loved (and love) the most has not, in itself, flipped that on its head. In fact, it was the cause of a lot of it.

See, grief and depression are not the same thing. They can often feel the same, but they have (at least) one giant difference: Grief can ultimately motivate a person to live fully, to embrace the now…since you now realize, like you never did before, that you don’t know when there won't be any “now” left. Depression…has the opposite effect. And when you have both (oh, along with a history of a host of other traumas)...well, they can "play off" each other, make each other worse, and just pull you even further into the fucking pit.

I'm not as far down in the pit as I once was. The early years of grief were a hell on earth of wanting to die but not wanting to kill myself. It's not that bad anymore, but there is still a giant element of "just going through the motions." A giant element of only "motivated" sometimes to go to work because I want to avoid having to rely on others for financial support. And I do go out socially, and I can and do have a good time.

But the undercurrent of depression is always there.

Sure, hope matters. ...Not that I have any.
(OK, I'm exaggerating. But not by much.)

So—you can tell me that Hope Matters. You can tell me about kicking the shit out of option B. Or you can exhort me to, instead of thinking of life post-loss as plan B (and therefore inferior) at all, think of it as creating a new plan A. You can encourage me to put it all in a virtual cement mixer, to become fodder for a new foundation. You can even remind me—with good reason—to wear the damn watch!

And you'd be right. It's just that I'll be over here, going...Look, I get it. Life is short. So. fucking. short. But for all of my "getting it" mentally, I'm still without sufficient motivation or energy (physical, too) to do much of anything about it. I mean, living out my life as it is now tends to take all of my energy out of me. And I've tried so. many. things. to improve my physical energy. And I guess some of it has helped. But it's still not...well, enough.

One thing I am doing is learning about shame and its antidote, empathy; wholehearted living; vulnerability and courage; and the process of rising after falling—by reading the books of Brené Brown and by taking her online courses, the Living Brave Semester (which covers the content from her books Daring Greatly and Rising Strong; FYI, this course is offered every January) and The Anatomy of Trust (FYI, this course is offered all the time and is free). (Update: Dr. Brown closed Courageworks, her courses business, in December 2017.)

One of the biggest realizations that the Living Brave Semester course has led to or reinforced is that I need to learn how to love myself. It's not like this is a brand-new thought, but only recently has it truly become a priority. Because it has finally sunk in: You cannot pour anything out of an empty pitcher. In other words: you can't give any more love to others than you have for yourself.

In fact, we recently finished the Daring Greatly content, and one of the exercises for the last lesson was to write a manifesto. ("Manifesto" probably gets a bad rap. I mean, it can bring to mind extremist individuals or groups. But it simply means, "a written statement that describes the policies, goals, and opinions of a person or group.") Anyway, since I'd already realized the importance of self-love, what my manifesto needed to be pretty-easily occurred to me.

So...will learning to love myself "work"? Will it give me enough "juice" to finally  Live Large?

I certainly hope so. ...See what I did there?

Review: When We Were on Fire

Addie Zierman is another one of those people/online friends/writers that I don't remember exactly when or how I first discovered. But when I did, I loved the name of her blog, How to Talk Evangelical (which reminded me of this book); it has had a place on my list of Favorite Blogs: Christian Faith & Doubt since I debuted this design. And I loved even more its "thing"--on it, she reexamines her faith, one evangelical cliché at a time. Because...yes. Evangelicalism certainly has its clichés. (Perhaps that's like all traditions. Maybe it's even unavoidable.) But oh, the damage that has been done by so many of those clichés. :sigh:

Anyway, we have a lot in common, Addie and me. We've both lived significant portions of our lives in the Minneapolis, Minnesota area--I, my first 20 years; she, her college years and now. We both left home for a far-away evangelical college--she left Illinois for Northwestern College (now University of Northwestern) in St. Paul, and I left Minnesota for Cedarville College (now Cedarville University) in Ohio. We both ended up living long-term near where we went to school. We've both been technical writers, creating user manuals for computer software companies. We both loved Alias.

Oh, and we both grew up in a Christian subculture, experienced depression, and became disillusioned. She's returned to faith, while I...well, that's yet to be determined.

source

She tells her story in her first book, When We Were on Fire: A Memoir of Consuming Faith, Tangled Love, and Starting Over. 

In short, I loved this book and highly recommend it.

But to leave it at that would be to paint an incomplete picture. It would leave out how close to home it often hit for me.

The book's synopsis reads, in part:

In the strange, us-versus-them world of the 90’s Christian subculture, your faith was measured by how many WWJD bracelets you wore and whether or not you’d "kissed dating goodbye."

Evangelical poster-child, Addie Zierman wore three WWJD bracelets, led two Bible studies and listened exclusively to Christian rock. She was “on fire for God,” unaware that the flame of her faith was dwindling until it burned entirely out.

It didn't have to be the 90s and you didn't have to call yourself evangelical. Because in the strange, us-versus-them world of the 80s Christian subculture, your faith was measured by how many of the DOs you did and how many of the DON'Ts you didn't, from the (partially-man-made!) list.

And because I was an Independent Fundamental Baptist poster child and, out of fear, I attempted to keep the list. I was a "goody-two-shoes," unaware that I was doomed to fail, by the very nature of there being a list, a list that not only your faith was measured by but that your worthiness apparently depended on, too.

Oh, and evangelical was a dirty word. Like liberal. Evangelicals were liberal, which just meant that they believed slightly differently than we did and had slightly-more-relaxed standards of practice, but--I didn't know that, since it was constantly being implied that because they didn't dot their Is and cross their Ts just like we did, they were probably going to hell.

But then I went to Cedarville, which I still sometimes marvel that my parents let me do, and without even realizing it, I became one--an evangelical. (The irony in reading about Northwestern is that while, in my parents' eyes, it was terribly liberal and therefore not to be considered...it sounds like it was a lot like Cedarville. Just...wow.) And it was a lot less strange, and it was a lot less us-versus-them. It's where I discovered that grace didn't just "get you in the door," it was how God treated us generally and how we were supposed to treat each other. And then-president Dr. Dixon talked about there being a difference between biblical mandates and institutional preferences, and it felt revolutionary. And he talked about it being their last chance to treat us as children or their first chance to treat us as adults--and choosing to treat us as adults. And he talked about their being some leeway in the rules, some things open to interpretation by individual RAs. And it all felt like Freedom City....compared to where I'd been.

Oh, and I discovered a vibrant brand of Christianity--based on grace and experienced with joy. A kind I'd never seen before. If I was ever "on fire for God," it was while I was there--and shortly thereafter.

I have a clear memory of shortly after college when I was riding the bus to work one day and reading my New Testament. Another passenger saw what I was reading and was convinced I was doing it because someone was "making" me. I insisted I was reading it because I wanted to. That desire did not last.

And like Addie said of herself, "I almost can't remember what it felt like to be that girl...." Because of everything that came after: getting in touch with my emotions (especially about my childhood) for the first time, multiple rounds of questioning and doubts, disillusionment that has only grown, depression, and--of course--the death of RLK.

It is all of that that makes me so relate to Addie's experiences of being depressed in a church setting and feeling disconnected from the people in that church setting. Like this, from chapter Sixteen:

When I tell Sheila that I'm leaving [the church], she looks at me, surprised. "Why?" she asks.

"I'm just lonely," I say finally.

"Well," says Sheila, looking concerned, "if we had known you were lonely, we would have done something. We all thought you were too busy for us."

I'm sure, in this moment, that she's telling the truth--that she honestly didn't know. That none of them did. But I can't forgive them for not seeing it. For not seeing me.

"I'm sorry," I say, even though I'm not quite sure why I'm apologizing. What I want to say is that for a year of Thursdays I have met with the church ladies at Coffee on Broadway for morning Bible study--and still not one of them ever even asked.

 Can I just say? Yes. You feel like you are falling apart in front of people, and you just want someone to notice and care. And they don't notice. (And you wonder if they care.) And when you finally work up the courage to say something, they blame you for not saying something sooner, or they respond with something equally unhelpful--unsolicited advice, uncalled for platitudes, unfitting verses--the ways are myriad.

It's safe to say the book triggered me, even. Multiple times. To tears, sobbing tears.

So if it triggered me, why did I love it so much? Because Addie tells her truth, unflinchingly. Because she doesn't whitewash away the sad parts, the unpleasant parts, the this-didn't-work-for-me parts. Because she has such a way with words--simply exquisite prose. Because while we'd connected online before the book came out, now...she truly does feel like a friend. Because I know we get each other; we so get each other.

If you were ever "on fire for God" and watched that fire flame out, if Christian faith and depression have ever been any kind of a mix for you...and you want to feel a little less alone and a little less 'crazy,' read this book.

I will give one spoiler alert: If you're the kind of person who thinks that all the swears are always wrong, you'll have a problem with this book. But I encourage you to read her explanation of why her Christian memoir includes those words.

And I'll end on a lighter note:  In talking about her college experience, Addie relates the following interaction:

"So," he asked, as we rounded the curve of the sidewalk and came up on the dorm buildings, "what's your major?"

"English. How about you?"

"Missions," he said, a sort of confident finality in his voice. "I'm pretty sure I'm called to the Middle East. Or maybe Africa."

And then he gave me That Look. The one that says, Hey there. Want to live in a hut in the jungle with me?

 This so reminded me of the Hey Christian Girl tumblr, that I just had to do this: