How?

How does anyone begin to find the chutzpah they need to do the thing(s) that need(s) to be done? Where does the feeling self-confidence come from when everything has been ground down to a pulp? Where does self-worth come from when the original source has been cut-off?

I don’t know who I am right now.

I used to be a teacher.

But who am I when I’m not a teacher? What do I do? What do I stand for? What do I excel in?

Last night I was watching an old clip-video of Britain’s Got Talent. And it hit me that I won’t be at the director’s table this coming year. I won’t get to find those kids hiding inside of themselves and show them to trust and believe in themselves because they are so strong and beautiful and cool and inventive. And I got really sad.

This whole not-going-back-in-the-Fall thing has been a cognitive exercise for the most part up until now. But now, as the school year looms closer, reality is starting to set in. Combined with absence of depended-on paychecks and health care that is soon going to lapse….. I feel like such a loser.

I’ve sent in my resume and cover letters to so many companies. 85% of them have come back with a ‘Thanks, but we’re going in a different direction.’ I have a small sliver of apps still out there, and I am just hoping against hope that there is someone out there who will take a chance on me.

In my head, I know that I am killer. I’ve got creative skills up the wazoo, great at organizing and scheduling, can lead a team, can teach and fill in the gaps where I need to, I love researching, I love writing copy and creating layout designs and graphics…. But no one will take a second look at me it feels. What are these decades of experience worth?

I feel like a nobody.

Which is weird and strange and horribly uncomfortable.

My job always defined me because I invested every part of myself into it. Because I loved it. Because it made me a better person in all the ways.

And now I’m just a blob who has to spin a light story to the outside world, all while feeling railroaded and sabotaged by people who never truly valued me from the beginning.

I know I’m not who they say I am, but it’s hard creating valuable meaning when I feel so alone. I would love a fairy godmother to pop by and notice me, pick me up, dust me off, and set me down the next path complete with twinkle lights.

Where I’m at now feels dark and confusing and disorienting. I’m worried about my family and money, and especially my kids. And my sense of self is skewed by their years of abuse and mismanagement. I know I’m a great educator and director, but I feel like a husk of myself. Their months of gaslighting have cut me down.

I don’t feel like myself. I am not myself. Not sure where to go nor what to do.

Dear Universe,

Send help.

-HM.

Begin Again.

Hey, there.

I’ve lost a lot of myself over the past two years, and during the past few months especially. I’ve been knocked down and smashed to bits by gaslighting-in-the-guise-of-private-organization-HR. I’m hurt and sad and damaged and pissed off.

On top of just the basic mind-fuckery of it all, I’m making a career change after 20+ years in the educational world. It’s all I’ve ever known and all I really know myself to be. So the “Who am I?” question rears up pretty loud and demanding at the moment.

I’ve been circling the idea of writing this blig-blag-blog for a few weeks now, knowing that just getting the thoughts down will help me process a lot of what the hell is happening. There are lots of possible threads and paths to wander down as I search and question and try-on-for-size and do, so having a space to catch my thoughts and ideas as I go along will be helpful and encouraging.

Above all, I really want to get back to Me again. I want to get rid of the trauma I’ve collected over these years – shed it and get it the hell out of my body. While doing so, I’d also like to reconnect with who I am and all the things that I love so that I can walk forward more whole and sure of myself.

Anyone else out there? Anyone want to join my gaslightees-anonymous team? Coffee’s ready.

Alright, folks, it’s begun.

-HM.

p.s. I started a side-blog thinking I needed a new platform, but instead, I’m going to walk through it all here. The focus of this blog may, and probably will, shift as I slog through this malarkey, but that’s okay. I realized the other day that trauma-from-gaslighting is absolutely a monster, so this is as good a place as any to break it down and go through it.

p.p.s. The new blog was going to be called I’m good. You may see that phrase pop up more regularly as I circle the friendly reminder, while also working to reestablish my boundaries. I’m good. No more of that shit, thank you very much, Jerry. (Name that adorable 70s British sitcom.)

Oh, Those Monsters…..

They just keep showin’ up, don’t they? *smile* I guess they’re just a normal part – and will forever be a part – of being Human. You kick one of their asses, and then, whoop! Another ass appears. Wahwah.

This one, well, I’ve probably talked about it before, and it will probably not come as a shock to anyone really, as it’s so common. The Monster’s Name is Food. And moreso, how I attempt to reward myself with it. ….. I think it’s slowly crept into mindless behavior, particularly in the evening during ye ole witching hour…. The one I used to pacify with loads and loads of wine. That YOWH. Now (and for the past 3 years) it’s Food. In the grand scheme of things, not bad. Just substituting one addiction for another. …. Again.

As someone with an addictive personality, am I just sentenced to a life of perpetual realizations that now ‘this’ is the problem? I feel so silly. My brain keeps playing tricks on itself and I keep falling into the same trap again and again. What a nut.

‘How am I going to crack this nut?’ you ask. Welp, with a little bit of mindfulness and a lot of chutzpah. Here’s what’s been goin’ on in the kitchen (as it were)……

• I’ve been circling around healthy body and weight-loss communities for the past few months. (Change is slow. My brain has been considering the need/desire for a change for quite some time. No rush. It takes what it takes. No need to beat myself up about it. (Learned this from my therapist. She’s a rockstar.))
• Have had a few friends take the plunge into Noom over the past half year. Decided I would try it out for myself 2 weeks ago.
• Signed up for Noom and began the free-trial period. I started logging my weight daily, reading articles, and tracking my food.
• Right away, I noticed my food choices weren’t always that healthy, so started substituting healthier options. I also started taking my vitamins again (after 6 months off), so my body is feeling better.
• I replaced our broken treadmill with a second-hand elliptical, and have been on it a number of times these past two weeks.
• I got a little nervous about the money-commitment to Noom on Day 2 or 3, so went online and checked out some reviews. There are some pretty bad ones out there, which freaked me out, so I started paralleling my tracking on my FitBit as well, because it’s Free.
• I’ve told several people about my new foray into better choices.
• I found another community at halfsizeme.com, which has great podcasts and awesome assistance programs, to help with different roadblocks along the way to losing weight (that’s my first goal – to let go of some of this fluff). Their biggest push, though, is maintenance and understanding your body when it’s in maintenance. I really like the mentality and also the good-not-perfect approach. I can’t tell my sober friends enough times how much the verbiage echoes that of the sober journey. It’s all about being kind to yourself, recognizing your accomplishments however small, forgiving yourself for mistakes and moving forward. I feel like I already know the community because there are so many similarities to my sober journey.
• Today is my 2-weeks-in marker. I’ve logged every meal, even if I wasn’t proud of some of my choices. As an extrinsic reward, I am going to go to a fabric store with my daughter and pick out either a new pattern or a new cut of fabric. (I stopped going about 3 weeks ago as a measure to save money.) I’m very much looking forward to it, and think I could definitely do another two weeks from today. *smile*

How have I done so far?

Well, my biggest victory is not being afraid of the scale any more. It says what it says, and that feels like quite an accomplishment. I’ve fluctuated between 3 pounds this whole time, which is pretty cool. On the whole, I think I’m down 2 or 2.5 pounds. Woot. Like I said, my food choices are better for me, and I’ve tracked everything. (Wow.) And I’ve become mindful of eating for the most part. I don’t zone out and just eat whatever. Instead, I notice what it is I want, determine the portion size (as best I can), and then enjoy it …. And notice that I’m enjoying it.

Yah-hoo. Big things to me, even though they’re small.

Anyone else on this journey – either Sober? Eater? or SoberEater? *smile* I’m looking for company, as I am sure it is the SoberCommunity that helped me get sober…. Probably my biggest weapon is all of you. I’d love to walk another trail with you, if you’re up for it. *flex*

Day 1,524. Heya, Voltaire.

-HM.

 

1 Step Forward

I feel like I am going backwards.

In my Life.

In my Career.

In my Sobriety.

I feel sorry for myself all of the time. Big, gigantic loads of self-pity. I don’t actually think the words ‘It’s not fair,’ but I definitely feel the idea again and again.

And I do my best to kick myself in the pants, to grab ye ol’  boote strappes and get myself up and at ’em and living life anyway….. But it’s the anyway that’s become the problem. And the life bit as I said above.

Boiled down…. My Life and my Career are integrally intwined, and I am not finding much joy anywhere in the mix. Part of it is my job has taken so much piss out of me this past year, that I am deflated, used up, and have lost all my confidence. It has affected all other areas of my life. I cannot make a decision with any sort of authority. I am constantly worried about pleasing other people in a way that hinges on obsessive, and am losing my identity in the process. I feel weak in my mental, emotional, and physical states….. I feel shitty and empty and not-whole and not Myself.

I’m bruised and hurting and unhappy. I keep reminding myself it takes time to heal, but then bigger questions loom. Is it too much for me – education and theatre? Have they taken their toll, which means maybe I will feel like this until I decide to get out? Should I decide? Do I go? What then?

…. So much of this dilemma comes from my year. I stated in no uncertain terms to the head of my school that it was the hardest year of my professional career. Harder, even, than the year I lost my job from a community I love dearly. I wrote those words and knew them to be true, but I didn’t realize until later the why. When I lost my job, I was surrounded by people and buoyed up with so much Love. Heaps and gobs and bundles of Love. Yes, I had had a huge blow dealt to every side of my heart, but this year, I had as much turmoil (a different kind of turmoil), but with no people to support me, no love. I was so alone.

And I still feel alone, because I don’t trust my school. I don’t trust I will be taken care of any differently than I was this past year. I made so much commotion, so much noise for someone to please take care of me. And they wouldn’t. And they didn’t. Not until the very last second. And by that time, I was so battered and beaten and physically hurt…. I was so loud. And yet, no one acted like they heard me. ….. I was so loud. I am so loud. About the way things are versus the way things should be. Being loud makes me feel vulnerable and even more alone. And I can’t shut up. I won’t shut up, but I also can’t. And it hurts.

With all the damage done to my confidence as a professional, as well as to my actual, physical heart (prolonged stress-induced), I feel like I am losing hold of my metaphorical heart as well. The joy and love I feel for theatre has diminished and been tarnished this year. It just feels like work. I still find good things in it, but overall, I don’t feel the same. It might, probably certainly, has everything to do with being intertwined with my full-time job/school…. And I find myself resenting putting in more hours to continue a program for the school. My compassionate self would remind me that it is My program I am working to build and continue….. But my practical self says I’m tired. I’m tired of working for an institution that won’t take care of me back.

My practical self also reminds me that things arrrreee changing. Slowly. A full-time designer and builder has been hired, which is fantastic. And monumental. Truly. But I’m so tired of fighting to be taken care of, I can’t seem to be happy with the changes that are happening. It makes me feel cynical, which I’m not usually. It makes me more tired because of the work and the fighting for it all. I resent it all, and that is not how this Monster operates. I feel stuck and sad and hopeless about what’s to come. How miserable do I look? A mopey, unhappy lump.

…. We’re still boiling down, folks. ….. My sobriety. Yep. Also going backwards.

I’m still sober, so it’s not that on a technical level.

I just…. All this resentment and hostility and sadness. I keep trying to combat it with what I did my first year – kindness to myself, no judgment, doing things that feel good and kind…. And it’s all just sort of a mess. I sink into a chasm of ‘The Great British Bake Off’ episodes, or start a cleaning project which leaves more of a mess than when I started, or I flounder around trying to find something that will make me feel good, but nothing does. I see my addictive tendencies all over my life and it’s driving me mad with spinning thoughts …. How many hobbies can I accumulate and then, never finish? How many friends can I burn one too many times and then lose? I’m just mad that I’m me most of the time.

I’m depressed. I do know that. Calling my doctor and therapist today.

I’m lonely. I do know that, too, and have hung out with some people this past week.

I’m tired and don’t want to do anything, but also feel like that’s the depression and also, that I don’t want to lose these precious minutes of summer vacation. And all I’m doing is watching them disappear, which makes me feel more sad and more resentful.

This is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.

I remind myself I have it so good, and that I should be happy. That word ‘should.’ So harmful.

And me, your mopey monster…. I even feel guilty coming out from hiding to write you, because all I write is mopey drivel. ….. I’m thinking as a light in my distance, that I am going to focus some of my frustrated, unsatisfied, unhappy energies towards writing again. Both here (to reconnect with my sobriety and the work that goes with it) and outside so that I might really get something published. That’s the little glimmer of hope I have right now. It’s teeny. And hard to muster the energy to do the work to even take the first steps. That’s partially what this post is for – to get me going.

Day 1,140. Thank you.*

-HM.

Stretched Thin.

Hello, my friends.

Just checking in, as I feel maxed out. There is a list of things I’m committed to – mostly positive, good things, that will help the department I inherited grow and develop. However, it is at least a full-time-times-two job, and high-expectations-me is down about being mediocre in many areas of my life (including momhood), because I just don’t have the time to regroup and get my shit together all at once.

Frustrating as I am not mediocre. And my work is not mediocre. But that is the impression I am leaving on some people.

Argh to that.

Missing time. Particularly time to nourish myself. And hell, I think that was the word I chose for the year. Well, word to the wise – I am totally fucking it up right now. Bah-humbug.

I find myself looking back at my sober journey, and I find in my first year, I was really good and just chilling out and relaxing and focusing on a therapeutic project (cross-stitch). Move into my second year, and I was just a focused beast. Scheduling and executing a million new things for my new job, but also feeling like I had time at home to love my family. This third year, I don’t know. I feel like I am spinning my wheels, but not really accomplishing anything really well. I’m overwhelmed with the amount of work I have in front of me, but then because of a new schedule, I have no time to prepare anything. I am consistently hanging onto my life by my fingernails.

I want the time I had in my first year for me. I want the friendships and solidness I felt in my second year. And I want my third year to be fruitful and satisfying.

At the mo? It’s not. WahWah.

Talking with my Dad today, I realize it is only my second year in the new gig, and I should give myself a three-year window to really feel acclimated. Trying to keep an open mind, but man, it’s tricky with the overwhelm that is a-happenin’.

Alright, vent curbed for the minute. *smile*

I miss you. Seriously. I’m a little lonely in my spinning world of spinning everything.

Day 868, Yep. Still goin’. But snail-like it seems.

p.s. It felt really nice to stop in. …. Love.*

Dear Dad,

Or Dear PapaBear. 🙂

Or Dear Man-Who-Believes-In-Me-Most.

Or Dear Man-I-Look-For-In-Every-Other-Man-I-Meet-Or-Know.

Or Dear Most-Generous-Kind-Man-In-My-World.

You keep bugging me for a blog post. And, well? Here it is. *smile* Just for you (with a few other worldly people dropping in to say ‘hi,’ of course).

As you know, I am still sober. 2+ years now, and doing well. So well, that I drifted from my blog, because I wasn’t thinking about SOBRIETY so much anymore. I had gotten into the swing of things (as a golfer, you can appreciate this metaphor *smile* (Although, maybe it is actually a reference to monkeys in trees? (Not sure. I will have to Google it))). I was feeling pretty even, pretty confident about my new job, my life with husband, my life with kids, my life with friends. It was all feeling good.

But then, it all of a sudden wasn’t. About a month ago. I got real shook up because the hubs said he wasn’t happy. That I wasn’t giving him any energy. That I seemed really depressed and angry. That I wasn’t loving the kids, but rather, I was super-short-tempered with them all of the time. That ‘We’ were not good. That he was feeling really distant, and maybe even separate from me, and all because of the way I treated him, or didn’t treat him rather. He said we were really good roommates, but not partners. He said I didn’t talk to him, or touch him. Anytime he would reach for me, I would swat him away, or more often than not, say ‘I’m busy.’ I didn’t have time for him in my world. I didn’t have energy. He wondered if I liked him at all.

Holy shit. Did that wake me up.

My first instinct was to defend.

Wait, no. That can’t be right. I’m the best I’ve ever been! (I actually said those words.) And then I went on with a list about how great I was – Job, check! New job, check! Current show, check! Kids, mostly check! Learning new things (sewing), check! And the hubs? Well, he made the list only in the way that I don’t worry about him. I trust us and what we have, and I see us as pretty separate, mostly because of how our work takes us away from each other so regularly (theatre). So, Hubs? Semi-middling-waffling-check. (No exclamation point.)

So we walked away from each other, not seething from a blowout fight, or crying hysterically from a dramatic moment. No. I can’t speak for him, but for me? I walked away feeling hollow – like my stomach had been scooped out and there was nothing left inside of me. Shaken, sad, confused. If that’s how he felt, then that’s how he felt.

Over a week, I reflected and watched and tried to understand where his concerns and feelings were coming from. It was an interesting and odd week. We walked on eggshells with one another, but then would talk about the eggshells, and then things would feel if not normal, then at least honest. We talked more that week. When I got home, I would find him and talk with him about the day. We were a little awkward-distant in our text messages, but then we were also thoughtful and considerate of one another. To use a weird metaphor, it felt like we were fourteen-year-olds dancing a slow dance. Awkward steps. Happy, but unsure of ourselves. Hyper-aware of one another and ourselves.

It was a hard week, but a good week. I realized, he was right. (He usually is. Psh.) I was without a doubt, one-hundred-and-fifty-seven percent taking him for granted. I trusted him and trusted in us so much, that I forgot that marriage needs work. And time. And energy. Of course it does! Of course he needs my attention. I was being a selfish, solely-functioning woman of the world. I was conquering all that I saw, but forgetting the treasures I had right there at home. (That metaphor was a little squishy and cliche, but right? It’s the truth!)

And most of all? … Well, sort of ‘most.’ He/The Hubs was the Most. His feelings in our relationship were the most important in that moment of upside-down.

Secondarily-Most of all, was the feedback from this man who loves me most in the world (tied with you, Dad *smile*), and here he was saying I was depressed. I was angry. I seemed really bad. And my reaction was disbelief and surprise. Over that week, I started reflecting on what he had said, and really trying to notice myself and my ways. ….. I had caught myself isolating in May/June, but I thought maybe that was old drinking habits trying to take hold. Not that I would drink, but that my tendency is to isolate. But then, I noticed I had been having loads of trouble waking up for the last three months, ever since my spring show closed. During the school year, I wouldn’t wake up until 7:30 most days (school starts at 8:30), and during the summer I was sleeping until 9 am every day, no matter if I put my alarm on or not. I had ballooned up again and couldn’t get control of my eating. I kept thinking, ‘I deserve this.’ *munch* ‘This is my reward.’ *bite* ‘I’m not drinking, so I can afford these calories.’ *gobblecrunchsmackswallow* Over and over and over again. Worst of all? I was really angry with my kids. Short-tempered. Short-fused. Over stupid shit. ….. Who was this woman? And how in the heck did she get here when I was feeling so strong, vibrant, and amazing in my Working Life?!

GAH. Life is so dang hard to balance. GodDamnFuckAssShitFuckFuck.

Okay, so the Hubs was right. Absolutely. No disputing him. All the facts were there. I just hadn’t seen them at all. I felt them and was going through them, but gah. Depression. Addiction. They’re hard to see when I’m in the middle of them, which is such a weird factoid. One would think that being in the middle of a months-long depression, a person would eventually get the kick-to-the-head they would need to realize, ‘Oh! I’m depressed!’ But no. For myself, I go through my days slogging and dragging, while simultaneously kicking ass at my job, because over-achiever? Driven? WonderWoman? But then on the flip-side miss the clues of me dropping my HomeLife, my SweetLife, my LifeLife…. And letting it drift through my fingers without even noticing. Or, really? Without even knowing.

So. Self-reflection? Check.

And then, I did what I was taught to do by you, PapaBear, and by MoM. … Take care of shit! (I wasn’t really that flippant, but for purposes of this post, and, if I’m super-honest, to sound a little cooler than I actually am, I am pretending to be a little flip. But only pretending. (For real? I was core-shook and scared.))

So, that same week, I actually had a 4-month check-up set-up with my psychiatrist. I unloaded on her in our 10-minute session. She was very sympathetic and she asked if I needed help on the meds side, but at that point, I hadn’t got down to the deepest layer. So I said, ‘No.’ I thought I was just crappy because my Life was suddenly horribly crappy. I didn’t think there was more to it. (Hey, Monster: Wrong!)

I kept on, keeping on. I started working on fixing the little things. Being more aware of the Hubs. Being more aware of the Babes. Being aware of my isolating/drinking behavior.

Things started to feel like they were moving in a better-than-bad direction, so that was good. My summer show opened. The Hubs and I were doing better-ish. I was doing things with friends. My Life was looking better. Looking Good. But it still wasn’t feeling good-good. You and Mom came down for the show, and if you remember, Dad? I was just cranky. Okay, but not Good. Not great. I had started noticing I was also still really short and quick-tempered with the babes. There was a low-lying feeling of dissatisfaction permeating most of my minutes.

The ‘it’… The Ick didn’t start lifting until I got out of here. Until I got to my hometown with you and Mom and got some time to just rest and not rush. To relax. To just Be in the place and the Home that felt good and felt soothing and healing. And so much of that goodness comes from feeling cared for and loved. I know how lucky I am to have had a great childhood and adulthood with two parents who love me and care for me and put up with me and my ways from time to time (let’s be honest, right, PapaBear? *smile*). Being Home always spins me back to Center somehow. It realigns me and my two poles, if you will. Ha. There is the gift of not having to worry. Not having to ‘Be’ for anyone. I mean, yes, I am still a mother. But somehow, being in the primary role of Daughter while I am with you and Mom is really comforting in a way I don’t get when I am a Woman of the World. So thank you for that. Times infinity.

While I was home with you, I realized I hadn’t been Good through and through, and I caught myself getting sharp with the Babes still, too. So I finally picked up that book you kept telling me about – The Happiness Project – and I started to read it. I am only three chapters into it still, but I while I read, I kept and keep thinking about how profoundly it touched you and where you were those few years ago, when you were LowLow. And some of the beginning stuff is basic and good for just Life and living. It’s made me look and see where I could prioritize myself and my needs (Hungry-Angry-Lonely-Tired, anyone?). It’s reminded me to step outside of myself and Give, as opposed to looking for what I might Get. And honestly? It’s just made me happy knowing how lifted up you felt after reading it.

As things were going now, I felt the gears start moving a little better and a little less muckity-muck. And with the layer of ‘Hmph-ness’ still somewhere inside of me, I thought, ‘Nope. I need more Help.’ And so? I upped my meds. Not a lot, since I was already taking basically the lowest dose one could really take. (I often wonder as someone who is very susceptible to meds and their affects, do I make doctors scratch their heads that I can actually feel what I feel from meds? Kind of like the Princess and the Pea. …. I wonder if they wonder if I’m faking it. Or if I am actually feeling it, or if it’s in my head. …. Anyway. Another post.) So, yes. I upped my dose by milligrams, and? About five days later? The crud and the crap and the junk? It kind of left. Just lifted. … I mean, Life is still up and down, and the children still drive me batshit-crazy sometimes, but I don’t hit the top of my Anger Meter when I deal with them. I lost my temper yesterday, and do you know what? I gave myself a timeout. And it was a really good choice. Woot. Go, Me. *smile*

I don’t know. Sometimes (Read: ALL the Time) I feel like I can do things all by myself. And do you know? I am going to call ‘Bullshit!’ on myself. Because I can’t. People can’t. We’re not built that way. We’re not meant to be that way. Looking back, I see the steps and the incremental improvements I made by adjusting myself and my world slightly and differently from day to day, and honestly? Yes. I absolutely got a little better, and truly, I thought I was better-better. But until I stepped away from my Regular, I couldn’t see the fact that I was Not. Having the space and the love and the support from you and Mom, even though neither of you even knows that that is what you give me without even trying, I finally saw where I wanted to be and that I was Not There Yet.

PapaBear and Friends, this is seeming to be more of a BiPolar-Post than an Addiction-Post. However, I will say, to those of you new to Ye Ol’ Blogge here, that for me? They go hand in hand. I am no longer a drinking-drinker. I got rid of that garbage (Woo-hoo!). But? I did not get rid of the garbage that comes with the garbage. All of the isolating, moodiness, rewarding, woe is me, I deserve this, resentful, yucko crapola that is Addiction down to its bones. That shit? That shit is still around. Added to the fact that I am a BiPolar, who has of late favored my depression more so than my mania, and you have a lovely combination that simmered, stirred, and served is enough to knock any optimistic-peace-loving-goody-two-shoes onto her ballet-flatted ass.

I am SO beyond lucky that I have people who love me. People who love themselves. People who are honest. People who care. And sometimes? PeopleLikeMe need a little more help than even those awesome ones. We need a therapist to talk to, or we need daily exercise (okay, we all do need that (Goals)), or we need a pill or a combination of pills.

And the hardest part of it all? Is getting off our cute little butts and going out there and getting the help we need. Dad, I always laugh when I think of you telling me I am the dumbest smart person you know (when I started smoking (Update All: I quit 10 years ago))…. But I always think of that because You Were Honest. And you Love Me. And? It always. Seriously, ALWAYS gets me off my ass to do the thing I think is stupid because it is the smart thing to do and I just don’t want to (whiny-whiner voice). Or, because I think, ‘It’s not fair!’ (Also whiny-whiner voice.) And just this last visit, Mom said to me, ‘Well, I’ve just learned that Life isn’t fair, so I can stop griping about it and just get on.’ YES. Life isn’t fair because I’m BiPolar and I’m Addicted and I’ve got a temper and I’m too tall and blahblahblahblah ….. It isn’t fair, but let’s get the ThisThatIsNow figured out Now, right? *smile*

I learned that from YOU, Dad. You and Mom.

And oh, my dear Lord, has it …. Have YOU …. saved me a million-and-one times.

Day 780, Thank you and I love you.* Your, -HM.

p.s. Hope you liked your post. *smile*

You changed my world, PapaBear.*

Drumroll Please….

Happy New Year’s Eve, my friends.* I hope this finds you and yours well and wonderful, happy and blissful, and full of hope and energy for the year to come.

What a beautiful day it has been for me – full of relaxing and cleaning (yes, that is actually a beautiful activity, especially when I avoid it for good stretches of time) and playing and being and eating and laughing and last, but not least, enjoying a beautiful winter’s eve walk in the moonlight. Ahhhh….. C’est parfait. *smile*

And now? I am here to announce my Word o’ the Year. WootWoot. And the word is?

*lesigh*…. Right? It just feels Good. And I love the definitions because there seem to be so many possibilities for the coming year.

I see first, my person, and making sure my needs are met on all levels – physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. Lately, I have discovered some addictive habits creeping back in, such as isolating, and eating for pleasure, and rewarding myself constantly (with food). Part of me is okay with the not worrying about calories, however, I have gotten a bit gluttonous. I need to remember to fill myself with necessities and Good Things. Not just stuff to fill me up…. I’m worried there may be a hole or something I am not consciously aware of at the moment, which is causing these behaviors. Not frantically worried, but just noticing at the moment. The past few days have been a bit better since I caught myself, but still. Better to be mindful and considerate of myself, rather than just eating to eat. Delicious, but not necessarily healthy. *smile* Oh, Monster…..

I also like the ripple-effect ‘nourish’ has on my relationships. Deepening them, and embracing them more wholly and again, more consciously feels right and good. After a year of being taken care of, I need to turn around and reciprocate the love and kindness so many people have shown me. It’s my turn, now, to care for them. With two of my dear friends expecting very, very soon, it just makes me excited for the year to come. … And the hubs. I don’t know, things feel more playful and more connected with him again. Maybe it’s because we’ve had some time to spend with one another this past month, but it feels so nice to be his wife. Does that sound dorky? (Yes.) But seriously. He’s just a fun guy, and playful, and nerdy, and handsome. I’m tellin’ ya. I feel lucky and aware of how lucky I am, whereas we are usually too busy to get more than ‘Have a good day’ and ‘G’night’ pecks on the lips most days.

In a wider circle, I love the word ‘nourish’ because of the new school and the new students and the new work relationships I am creating… That I am nurturing. This program my two coworkers and I envision is really, brand new, because we are each brand new. We are beginning this program from the ground, up. Caring and tending and ever so slowly growing it into being. Cultivating. Nourishing! Yes. This word feels especially good and inspiring for the Work. For the Passion. For the thing I would do, even if I wasn’t getting paid (as my dear friend Jack reminds me often). It feels exactly right. And again, because it is in service to this community and, especially, to these children, to these students. Just thinking the word in regards to the work makes my next four months of rehearsals exciting and energized, as opposed to full of dread and obligation. It feels Good. (There’s that stamp of approval again…. GoodGoodGood. I think we have a winner.)

So, yes. Here is to Nourish, and all of its lovely synonyms.

Day 571, Hello, 2017.*

p.s. A sidenote: I have been on the blogs a lot these past couple of weeks, which has been so wonderful – to connect, to read, to find inspiration. I have noticed so many new people, and I want to say a huge ‘Welcome’ to each of you. The turn of the year seems to encourage many people to consider sobriety, and I just want to say you are not alone, even when you may feel like it, you are not alone. For those of you who have taken your first forays into blogging your own experiences, it’s great to see you and to ‘meet’ you. Don’t be afraid to reach out to anyone else here in this blogolopolis we have going on here. I find so much in your courage to take those first early steps, because it is scary. And unknown. And who knows what will happen? And Even If the worst happens (and it did for me), you can make it. And you can stay present in Your Life. That sobriety you’ve got goin’ on is one helluva beautiful thing. It gives you back your memories, your thoughts, your relationships, your time, your self-worth, your confidence, your joy…. And it removes your guilt and your shame. What a cool equation. Pass me s’more, please. *smile* …. And as I’ve said in the past, I do not have this sober thing figured out. Far from it! I am here, every day, just workin’ on it, even on the shitty days. Because even on the shitty days? Those positives will far outweigh 5 oz. 25 oz. of wine….. Like a herd of elephants versus an ant. Seriously. The scales are definitely tipped in sobriety’s favor for me. And even on those shitty days? (And, dammit, but they do happen.) I am still present. I am still Me. 111% *flex*….. Keep on keepin’ on with your bad selves. *smile* Happy New Year, my friends! Thank you for all you’ve shared with me in 2016. *clink* (It’s bubble water. hee.) -HM.

2016 Word in Review.

Ah, what a full, full, incredibly full year it has been. Of course there are the memes and the constant barrage of Facebook notices (I’m not hip enough to be on Instagram – not yet anyway (*smile*)) decrying the sad losses of so many artists who have been nearest and dearest to us. As a US citizen, it has also been an incredibly full and turbulent year in our government. No matter your political leanings, we have been through the ringer as a country. And on a personal level, with the exception of parenthood and sobriety, I have gone through the biggest, seismic shift of my adult life, which was losing my job at a school I loved with all my heart, to finding a new position in a new school, and adjusting. Adjusting to so much – place, people, history, the way things were versus the way things are now. … Oh! And I almost forgot. I hit my first year of sobriety on June 9, 2016 and commemorated the totally tubular event with my first ever, honest-to-goodness tattoo.

Man.

2016, you have had a lot goin’ on with your bad self.

And the word that led me through all of these many ups and downs?

Such a simple, simple word, and yet? So profound.

Originally, I had chosen the word in order to be aware of the need to be kind to myself. Being someone with a need to please, as well as a good dose of perfectionism, and trying to juggle more than I should – and all of that done, until very recently, with a hangover the size of the Northern Hemisphere…. It was pretty rough going for a long, long while. I needed something, some word to anchor me and to remind me, ‘Oh, yeah. Look out for yourself.’ Throughout this year, I found myself saying “No” more times than I have in the past (Maybe 10? Still! A good start.), and I often took time to relax or, especially, to savor moments with my family, rather than thinking about all the things I should be doing. I found the word grounded me in the important things – my babes, my hubs, my immediate family, my friends – in ways that I don’t know I’ve really been able to appreciate until now. Of course, much of the enjoyment had to do with being present rather than drunk. There is that fact. But still. The reminder to be kind to myself really gave me the gift of my People again. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.

In terms of the year itself, I will echo many similar sentiments that 2016 was not, in and of itself, a very kind year.

However.

The pain and loss I felt in the process of losing my job and then finding and transitioning to a new one was constantly led by ‘Kindness’ at the helm. Truly. The people around me were full of generosity, compassion, support, and above all, kindness. Again, I find myself so grateful…. And feeling so humbled by the hundreds of people who showed me kindness and love. I feel so lucky. So blessed. I cringe thinking what this year would have been like without all of those kind hearts around me. So, so lucky.

My word of the year surprised me in the many ways it showed up, and with whom it accompanied. I feel rather giddy just thinking about it and its many facets.

Day 570, Goodnight, Year.*

 

Princess Leia’s Sister.

I have always felt alone with my diagnosis of bipolar. I don’t know anyone else who has it and who speaks openly about having it. In my life and in its circles, I feel like an anomaly. Like I have something no one else knows about. Something that makes me different and other and a little separate …..

I’ve also had these feelings about being an alcoholic. (Ugh. That word is so ugly, isn’t it?) Feelings of isolation and difference. I have found myself wondering ‘Why me?’ I get over it and get down to living, but sometimes I catch myself feeling alone.

Growing up, and Now – especially in adulthood – I’ve always had the vibrant Carrie Fisher somewhere in my peripheral vision as someone who gets me. Who knows about Life. Who has lived hard. Loved much. Been loud and outspoken and True to Herself. And I have always admired her for living her life unabashedly. And I find such inspiration in her living her life out loud so that others (me! and people like me!) would know that No. We are Not Alone. Nope. No way. No how. Not a possibility. In fact? There are many, many, many other people like me. Like Us. And all because this Woman, this iconic, emblematic, die-hard feminist Fisher said who she was. What she was. No apologies. No justifications. She laid it all out there. She gave her Truth to us – to me – and her example frees us to be who we are. Empowering. Hopeful. Connected.

Day 568, May the Force Be With You.

Artwork by Katie Cook

 

Hello, Out There.

Hello, friends. It’s been a little while. Yow. Time passes when you’re busy doing stuff, doesn’t it? I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and checking in pretty regularly on WP to read your words and journeys. I just haven’t had the chance to sit down and write you my own epistle until now. Sitting feels good. *smile* As does writing you. *clickityclack*

So, the End of Shows went beautifully. Both were well-received and well-attended. The Shakespeare show (Midsummer) was love-ily to have because it kept me grounded and connected to both my past, present, and future (an 18-year history with the company, as well as looking forward to directing and being with my favorite people again next season/summer). While on the other hand, the mega-musical marked a significant Ending because it was the last show I will direct at my now-former school. The show itself was strong, vibrant, funny, and a little naughty. I definitely felt I went out with a Bang!

Of course, the Universe is always there to remind in so many different ways that I am not in control, nor can I, nor should I try to control the world around me. With all the anxiety surfacing inside me this past month around the closing of my shows, the Job being well-and-truly final, readying our house for the market, looking towards starting the new-*sparkly* Job, trying to spend time with my sister-who-was-in-town-from-Australia-during-my-busiest-two-weeks-of-the-summer, leaving for vacation, and now about to hit the ground running with the new job and the house….. Well? My anxiety has just climbed and climbed and climbed. And in each of those pockets of Life, the Universe has aptly put me in my place again and again.

First. My beautiful, amazing, phenomenal sister left 3 Thursdays ago. We have a tradition in our family, that whenever someone is driving away (the Leaver), the people staying behind (the Leavees) wave until they can’t see the car any longer. And, weather be damned, the Leaver/s in the car roll their windows down and wave back until they can’t see the Leavees any longer, too. So, with this tradition well-established, my sister hopped into her rental car, rolled down her window, got the last teary hugs and kisses from me and the babes, and then turned to go down the driveway. When what should appear? You guessed it! The Universe. In the form of a school bus (in July). It came around the corner and then pulled to the side of the road with its red stop sign shining, and its red lights flashing…. We just laughed. Because what else could we do? It was perfect. And funny. And gave us the chance for a few more hugs and kisses.

Second. The last show of the mega-musical…. All day, I just had nerves. It felt Epic. Important. One of those I-am-going-to-remember-this-event-for-the-rest-of-my-life-type things. So here we are chugging along, I’m watching the show and just enjoying it and laughing at all sorts of new moments in the show, and then. Crash. At the end of intermission as I’m about to start the show again, the hubs (who was in the show) comes up to me and says another actor and the pit say the music director is either drunk or high. Oh, what?! Gah. So I race back to speak with the person and to see if they’re right. …. Yep. Sure as shit. …. He is so far gone, I don’t know that even speaking with him would do any good. I pulled a musician aside and asked him to push the show, the cues forward if the MD dropped the ball on anything. So the whole second half, I’m just holding on and hoping we make it through the show without any mishaps (we did), and also trying to figure out what to do about this man. It was just odd. In all my years, I have not had this happen to me in any way, shape, or form. And then for it to be my last. I don’t know, it felt odd, though not unexpected (I wrote about my misgivings in an earlier post). With all the adrenaline now wrapped around this problem, the significance of it being my Last Show dropped. And a bit of regret, following the show, I didn’t handle the situation very well. I skirted around it, made sure he had a ride, etc. However, I followed up the next day and feel much better about that. I know if we had had a Sunday closing, I would have fired him and told him not to come back. But since we closed on a Saturday, I just wanted to get through the show, and we did. On the phone the next day, I was angry and sad, particularly because this is a show at a high school with teenagers in the production. The choice to get drunk before a (professional) gig felt incredibly selfish. He could have compromised the entire production. …. I asked him if he thought this was a problem, and he said that he did think so, that his mother was very sick, and not for the first time. Then, I offered to send him some resources via email, and promised that I would follow-up with him in a few weeks to see how he was doing. I penalized his pay, and then later, apologized to the teenagers for not being more assertive the night before. I apologized for the MD’s behavior, and told them what he did was not okay. It was messy, but at least I followed up on all of the loose ends.

Following all of this, my mother came down for a week and helped me get a ton of stuff done with the house. The hubs and I have one more week to work, and then, I am hoping we are set to show our house starting next week. Keep your fingers crossed.

Third. This past week, we went out of town to the shores of Lake Superior. Beautiful. Majestic. Mighty. …. But my anxiety was really high. Incredibly high. About death. About losing my babes – especially in the midst of the water, which just seemed incredibly powerful. I know I was driving the hubs nuts on one particular day, because he had them in the water amidst these big waves. I just saw the immensity of the water stretching out behind them, and the strength of each wave as it rolled in and hit them, and I was just So. Scared. That they would be knocked over. Pulled out before we could reach them. Before I could save them. … So all this, and then? Oh, there’s the Universe again. This time it showed up in the form of sister-brother battles. Our 3-year old kicked his sister’s head, which banged the edge of a coffee table. Stitches at a small-town ER. Ah, vacation memories…. But really. It acted as a good reminder that I really can’t control anything. And I know that deep down, but it doesn’t always stop me from wanting to try. Letting go is a lesson I need to learn again and again and again it seems. … Also? The accident freed me up and helped me to embrace the waves and the water with my family later that day. We got splashed and soaked, and we laughed and held onto one another.

Day 432, Thanks, Universe. I needed that.