How To Deal With Big Feelings

It was into the first few days of spring, and a lot was happening all at once: my former neighbor died, and I had to be the one to tell my family. My nephew was born prematurely, and the events leading up to his arrival were fearful and filled with anxiety. Little things had been piling up weeks prior, and it got to a point where it was like I couldn’t do anything right. I was almost in an emotional paralysis of sorts because I feared doing or saying the wrong thing.

I’m a Big Feeler by nature, and crisis or life events exacerbate that. By definition, I’d say Big Feelings are when you’re experiencing a lot of different thoughts and emotions about something, and you might question which is the correct or appropriate one, if any of them are. It gets even more complex when people around you, whether they mean well or not, try to tell you that you’re overthinking, overreacting, or just flat out getting worked up for no reason. It’s not depression, but it’s not quite an anxiety attack either. It’s hard to describe. 

I learned about various coping mechanisms, and was reminded of the importance of others. These are merely suggestions, and there’s no one particular order to do them in. 

Talk To Someone

When I’m going through a hard time, experiencing a loss or uncertainty, my first instinct is to reach out rather than isolate myself. If nothing else, it’s comforting to know that someone knows what’s happening, because ultimately I don’t want to feel alone. 

If you’re comfortable doing so, reach out to a trusted friend. If you already have a therapist, make an appointment (even if it means having to wait a week or two). If you don’t have either one of those things or it’s late at night, contact a hotline. I’ve been told that Al Anon can be a good resource as well; from what I understand, it’s not only there to help those who have loved ones struggling with addiction, but it can be a source of support when you’re surrounded by those who are emotionally unavailable. I haven’t been to a meeting myself, so I can’t vouch for this personally. There are meetings that take place both online and in-person. 

One of the hardest things about vulnerability is having the words/language to describe it all. Something like, “I’m struggling with something and could use someone to talk to. Are you in a good head space to listen?” would be a good place to start. Or, “I’m going through it right now and don’t know exactly what I need, but I could use some support.” 

The key is reminding yourself that you’re entitled to feel your feelings, and you don’t deserve to be gaslit in the process. Yes, certain people might be uncomfortable seeing you in a vulnerable state, but that doesn’t negate the validity of your experience. 

Write It Down

I’m not the most consistent when it comes to keeping a journal (long-form handwriting often leads to hand cramps and swelling), I will say that there’s power in writing down whatever comes to mind. My thoughts are no longer living rent-free in my head, and it puts me in a better head space to focus and make decisions. When I can’t confide in someone at that moment, or something is difficult to explain, writing helps me sort it all out. 

A journal isn’t going to call you selfish or tell you to be strong for someone else’s sake.  It’s simply there to hold space, letting you say what you need to, regardless of how messy, immature, or flat out ridiculous it sounds. 

It doesn’t have to be in the form of a letter. It can be just a few sentences, or even bullet points. If writing by hand is difficult, there’s no shame in keeping some sort of online document, which can be password protected. There’s also keeping voice memos on your phone or using talk-to-type software. It doesn’t matter how traditional or high-tech, as long as you can express yourself.

Practice Self-Soothing and Self-Care

Unfortunately, relief doesn’t always come right away, let alone in the form of a text or a hug from a human being. When life gets overwhelming or you’re in this waiting period and wondering what’s going to happen next, practicing self-soothing seems counterintuitive (and mirrors the cultural mindset of being self-reliant). But if loved ones can’t be there and you need to keep yourself from falling into an emotional black hole, self-soothing techniques might be your best bet. It could be in the form of grounding (observing and naming the things around you via the five senses), wrapping yourself in a literal hug, or laying your hands on your chest/stomach while laying down (I did this a lot during the early days of the pandemic). Take deep, diaphragmatic breaths. Close your eyes and count to ten slowly. Go for a walk. Dig your heels into the ground (literally). 

If you’re already at a point where you’re mentally checked out and can’t do anything, give yourself some grace. Something like a medical situation, a diagnosis, or unexpected news is a lot to process. Compassionate people understand that these things make it challenging to carry on with business as usual, especially if your world as you know it has been turned on its axis. 

There’s some hefty debate about what self-care means, and one of my favorite writers pointed out that self-care can be confused with self-comfort. I think both are necessary, and they’re going to be different for everybody. 

There are days where it might mean focusing on the small victories (nourishment, basic hygiene, getting dressed, physical movement). If you’re easily overstimulated, it means making time to recharge and be by yourself. As hard as it is, try to stay off your phone and social media, even if you’re waiting for an important text or phone call.  It’s common to want to hope-scroll, research, or listen to a bunch of podcasts on how to become more securely attached. But the world of the internet can be a sucker for emotional spirals, numbing out, and overall making us feel worse than we already are. Whatever is waiting for you on the other side of the screen will most likely be there if you’re only checking in periodically. I learned how to tweak my phone settings so that I’m only using certain apps for an hour at the most. If absolutely necessary, I put my phone in my purse (or just out of sight) and rely on my smart watch. And while I don’t stick to it every day, having boundaries with my devices is something I’m still trying to practice. 

But it’s not just about avoiding what’s unhealthy or not getting stuck in a pattern. You have to make space for joy too, if not relaxation. I got into watching old TV shows (from childhood) on YouTube. They’re silly and cheesy, but often have the light-heartedness I need when decompressing/winding down as the day comes to an end. Without the usual commercials, they’re only about twenty minutes long if you actually go through an entire episode without skipping. When I’m trying to decide what book(s) to read, I have to be conscientious about where I’m at mentally and whether or not I can handle certain subject matters for the time being. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel good or experience some sort of release, especially when our every-day existence seems to be getting heavier. 

It wasn’t until I met my nephew in person (and held him) that I started to feel better. I was still brain tired and overwhelmed from being on-the-go, but seeing him for myself helped me to trust that he was going to be okay. On the drive home from Kansas City, I came across Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “Three Little Birds.” I’m not a huge believer in signs, but hearing that (along with a text from a friend checking in on me) gave me a sense of peace. After my neighbor’s funeral the following week, it was like I could finally exhale. 

What I mentioned above seems doable in theory, but not exactly black and white when actually you have to do it. There’s no formula or snap of the fingers, but when it comes to feelings, I’m finding that the best way forward is to work through them. Name them and accept them without giving them a death grip. Recognize that they can and do change.And take what I’m saying at face value, because I’m still an amateur myself. 

As a side note, a little empathy goes a long way: If someone has the courage to share that they’re struggling grieving, whatever it might be, the least we can do is acknowledge it: “I’m sorry that’s happening, and I’m here for you,” (or just the latter). People need to be seen. They need to be heard. And sometimes, they need to be affirmed that they’re going to get through it, and that the sun will rise again. 

Big feelings matter. How you feel matters. Keep going.

An Ode To My Millennial Cringe Era

I learned to like the feeling of love

From boy bands and Disney movies

Blue prints on friendship came from books surrounding preteen babysitters

Saturday mornings were all about cartoons and lucky charms (mostly the marshmallows)

Social outings were planned in advance on long-corded phones

In my generation, technology didn’t start out “Smart”

Cue the hormones, the highlights, a trifecta of “designer” (cheaply-made) fashion 

Grew out of Barbie’s, but never cared for Bratz

I was too busy sneaking rich-girl stories and racy romance paper backs

Screen names had to be cool yet chill

Afternoons and in between post dinner homework were for AIM

But behind the choker necklaces

It was like the girl I knew was being choked out of me

Attempting to blend in to survive 

I went to really dark places

Without the angsty lyrics or black under eyes 

Everyone but me knew I was trying too damn hard 

And when I cried and asked for help

The solutions were oversimplified 

Tone down the writing and get offline 

At fifteen I was rocking bangs (that didn’t really bang)

Switched from public to private high school 

An education that came with uniforms, exposure to small town life

Insert music becoming auto-tuned

Wearing perfume like a flower

Still going to church for a boy

I wasn’t interested in sneaking out

But I read Cosmopolitan at my summer job

(Guess was that was)

You either had to be an athlete or a theater kid to find your place

I was neither

So I suppose high school was just a stepping stone 

Welcome to campus!

I was more than ready for independence 

To leave my old identity behind 

Classes were for sweats

Weekends were for Express tops and leggings

Toeing the line between stylish and modest

But never go makeup-free

Because I never knew who I was going to meet 

Dreaming through the walks with my iPod nano

Recovering from a night out with Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill

The happiest I’d ever been

But to stubborn to call my family when the struggles set in 

That life was a bubble

And I lived in my head 

More people were spontaneous 

I still made plans

My racing thoughts manifested in what was called anxiety

I was pretty damn proud of myself for going to therapy

But I resisted medication, believing I’d have to give up drinking 

I craved experimentation and exploration 

But didn’t have the language for when my body was disrespected 

A cycle of shame and questioning why it all happened 

The birth of dating apps made it all so confusing

I didn’t feel safe or trust men in private or public

I wrestled with God, Purity Culture, and the ever-divisive political climate

Reflecting on those years

It’s not about finding myself, but embracing who I’ve always been

Things that I tried to hide or deny

Multiple things can be true at once 

I have regrets, and I didn’t  know better

A college degree is not the key to everything

Communication can be easily misinterpreted by what’s on a screen

Social media no longer revolves around bumper stickers, superlatives, and showcasing one’s personality

It’s all news and views (and being “right”)

I’m conflicted with maintaining a presence

While not getting sucked in 

I own (and love) my “Barbie Energy”

Advocating for myself professionally and medically

Call me entitled, but I deserve good things

I continually honor the girl I’ve been

And honor all the facets of the woman I’m becoming

Trying to be kinder

More compassionate 

Gentler

More myself 

Even when there’s doubts, frustration, and even tears

I don’t cringe, but rather giggle

And I’d hug that girl repeatedly 

That girl who now sings and dances to Taylor Swift

Accepts her body (as best as she can)

Has Big feelings

What was then still matters

It has shaped me

It has moved me

The good

The bad

And the in between 

Making sense of yesterday 

To celebrate today

This poem was inspired by Kate Kennedy’s “Once In A Millennial”.

Thirty-Two

If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now: I love celebrating birthdays, and I’ll continue to celebrate mine despite being told that there’s no reason to do so once you hit a certain age. I will incorporate as many little things or as many big things as I want (within reason). 

But this was the year I realized that I needed to do something a little bit different, a little more low-key than a big dinner and partying into the wee hours. I’ll still make exceptions for important events like weddings and concerts, but trying to do the same stuff I did in my twenties usually results in a full body hangover (thankfully no headache or nausea, but there’s pain everywhere and I’m usually too stiff to move). 

I eventually decided on brunch in Chicago, and one of the less costly brunches for the city (if you live there or visit as often as I do, it could easily be categorized as a religion). My sister celebrated with me for the first time in ages (apart from family), and it was wonderful introducing her to some of my closest friends. We bopped around for a little bit after our meal, ending up in the midst of a Taylor Swift-themed bar crawl (which I wasn’t mad about). I left to catch the train home around dinner time, and once I was back in the suburbs I took a bath, had a cup of tea, and went to bed. I was still tired the next day, but thankfully there was no hangover of any kind to recover from.  And ultimately, I was glad to have fun in a way that wasn’t so hard on me physically. I enjoy going out and exploring, catching up with friends, trying new places and things. And I also reach a limit, and I’m thankful that the people around me respect and honor that. 

As I’ve said previously, the past year was a lot. I realized that my body was changing, and pursuing solutions to the symptoms was isolating and oftentimes, lonely. I examined my relationship to alcohol, flew solo on a plan for the first time, and soaked up all the Barbie energy and nostalgia. There were many days where I felt like I was just going through the motions, playing catch up on things that I needed to do and hesitating to ask for help that I needed. I didn’t quite have the breakthrough that I wanted (at least in a way that felt monumental), and I don’t know if that was a God thing or perhaps I wasn’t “hustling” hard enough. 

During a meeting with a wellness group that I’m part of, I expressed my struggle in getting on a solid sleep schedule and creating balance in my routine. But as we talked, there was one word that kept coming up and stood out to me more than the buzzwords I’ve heard in terms of what you can accomplish during the day. 

It was rhythm. 

Depending on the context, rhythm has quite a few definitions. I read a Forbes article where rhythm was described as showing up as your authentic self at work, whereas balance was attempting to do everything perfectly. One of the wellness group leaders described rhythm as making room for work, rest, and play (in no particular order). 

I’m still in the midst of creating my own definition, and perhaps it will be an ongoing endeavor. I do have structure and I do have a routine, but it doesn’t always go the way I plan in it my head. Ideally I would love to be able to get up at five in the morning on most days and write in quiet, uninterrupted flow. I can get up before sunrise if I have enough adrenaline (i.e. a plane or a train to catch), but on a normal day it’s not that easy, especially if I haven’t slept well and/or my legs are ridiculously stiff). 

I think rhythm depends on the season. It involves listening to my body and moving and resting based on how I’m physically feeling. It’s having a routine, but also leaving room for spontaneity and morale boosts and doing brave things. The goal is not necessarily productivity (a word I’m coming to loathe), but efficiency. Meaningful work. 

And yes, I realize that it’s different when working in Corporate America and having hard-set deadlines, quotas, last minute pivoting, and everything in between. But no one should have to risk their mental and physical health in the process, and I stand by that. 

Since the end of 2023, I’ve been working on a creative project that’s very close to my heart. I won’t share what exactly it is right now, because I’m protective of the message and the ideas and concepts surrounding it. I’ve finished the first draft, and am hoping to find an editor that will help me with revisions. I strongly believe in asking “what are we not talking about that we should be talking about?” and this concept is one of them. I don’t know where it will lead, but I pray that it will make an impact. 

I always try to stay open to what a new year will bring, regardless if that starts in January or my birth month. This might be bold of me to say, but I believe that I deserve opportunities, even if it means creating them. I deserve success, whatever that looks like. And I deserve to feel good, feel confident, and be well. 

Here’s to thirty-two!

When Writing is Hard

Twenty years ago
I discovered the power of writing things down my paper
Expressing angst and longing and anger
First an outlet and than my college major
Blogging and journaling on the side
It’s what I knew, like a second language
When I couldn’t articulate an out loud opinion or what was on my mind
But it came with crying and raging
Debates and unbelieving
Doubts and questioning why
The truth can be subjective
It was just my perspective
And those experiences are still valid

I typed a little less
Kept the deepest shit in a crevice
It took time to acknowledge reality
Told to stop the tears
Unless someone was sick or dying
Violence against my body and emotional abuse. somehow I’d brought it on myself

Well damn the differences in understanding
I won’t ask for permission to be vulnerable, express and make meaning
Of scars and scrapes and heartbreak
Don’t say this is my gift now use it
Then lose your cool when I do it
Just because you don’t like how it’s done

Some stories are uncomfortable
Personal histories can’t be fixed or rewritten
Instead of pretending, ignoring, or lashing out
Practice having empathy and compassion
When it comes to pain and healing, there’s no statue of limitations

I’d keep it in until the sun went down
When the rest were asleep
By then the moment had passed
Too tired to weep

Trauma gets stored up in your system
If you don’t let it out in healthy ways
Manifesting itself in chronic conditions
Struggles with eating
Figure obsession
Fatigue and joints aching
Anxiety
And depression

I’m an emotional person
I don’t like to hide behind curtains
Or wear stoicism like a badge of honor
It’s not about malice, or sadness, or what’s deemed “negative”
But releasing and breathing and experiencing peace of mind

I’ve lived a unique life thus far and I have things to say
My experience has shown me the power of adapting
Perhaps suggesting let’s try this a different way

It can be a challenge when self doubts slinks in
In the form of questions and accusations and no conversation is productive

I write with passion and purpose
Choosing words that hopefully educate, enlighten, and uplift
People can choose to read it or leave it
That’s the power of freedom
And I will write
Despite being afraid

Reflecting On 2023

This year has been…a lot.

. I remember January and February, but March through June is like a blur when I attempt to look back. When summer came to a close, the consensus among my friends and I was knowing that we did a lot, but yet it felt like we didn’t (or perhaps there was more that could have been squeezed in). This particular Christmas season was packed with many activities and while I always enjoy the lights/decorations and quality time with family, I struggled at times with being present and not experiencing mental exhaustion. But there were also important, damn-near milestone moments that took place and I couldn’t be more grateful. 

I bought A New Mattress

It seems like one of those mundane things, but as someone who struggles with not holding onto money with an iron fist, this was kind of a big deal. The one I’d been sleeping on for the past decade was well past its prime, and whenever I laid down or got up, I could hear the springs move. I’d been holding out due to not only refusing to spend the money, but wrongly believing it would make more sense to get one once I had my own space. I will say that investing in it sooner rather than later is always worth it, especially if you have chronic conditions to cope with. Not only is my current one more comfortable to sleep on, but I chose one that goes up and down with the help of a remote control, so I don’t have to rely on flimsy pillows for back support while I’m reading or watching TV.

I Flew Solo For The First Time

Aside from an eighth grade trip to Washington D.C. I had never flown on an airplane without my family. The mere idea was terrifying at first,and despite the short turnaround, I didn’t take it lightly. My friend and I had been planning my visit to Austin, Texas, since late summer, but it had been difficult to find a block of time that worked for both of us until shortly before Thanksgiving. Getting through the airport went smoothly, and I was grateful for the assistance and accessibility. Though the days were slightly unpredictable and required flexibility on my part, I was glad to have a break from the constant noise, and to have some quality time with someone I care for. It was the first time I had stayed with someone closer to my age for longer than just a weekend, and I learned a lot about direct communication and being less afraid to voice what I wanted and needed (which was incredibly different from when I was nineteen/twenty). I realized that I still have some internalized ableism to address, and I cried more openly than I have in months. It was all a breath of fresh air, and something that I felt that I needed to do for myself, in itself. 

I’m On A Continuous Health Journey

I received some news around springtime that while somewhat expected, it still left me asking “what now?” and sent me looking for a full-proof formula on how to care for my body.  I continue to identify my experience based on particular symptoms, rather than the diagnosis that’s in my medical file because I’m not here to argue with anyone about the validity of what’s happening. I took a break from alcohol for a little over a month, and have continued to focus on cutting back and only drinking in moderation. I joined a gym (after having primarily worked out at home with free weights since 2014), and while that’s something I’ll still use if it’s the only option, I’m finding that weight machines provide more support and make more of an impact. 

There’s a lot of nuance, and no day is one in the same. I’m still learning to be okay with that and find peace with it. 

I’m cautiously optimistic about 2024: I’d like to see some professional breakthroughs, and accomplish certain things without harming my physical and mental health. I’d like to get into a writing routine, which I’ve been putting off because writing often brings out my emotional side, and it’s hard being lectured for crying unless it involves tragedy. I want to spend more quality time with certain people, and to have a social life without packing so much into a week, perhaps even a month. I want to feel strong again and have more energy. (First step is cultivating a doable nighttime routine and going to bed before 11pm at least four nights a week). 

I want to continue building a gentle life. 

Here’s to a new year, and may it be what you’ve hoped for, prayed for, and envision it to be. 

Heart Sign

For several decades now
Generations have witnessed war and tragedy
Inside and out their front doors
What used to just be the evening news
Now a twenty-four hour cycle of coverage, debate, and speculation
What worked years ago now seems obsolete
And regardless of opinions and statistics
The outlook appears bleak
Moments of bliss are now followed by guilt
Gratitude, joy, pain, and suffering are a heavy hold
Compassion fatigue sets in
Simultaneously with, or followed by depression

The ebb and flows of life
Are not black and white
Coexist do darkness and light

It’s not wrong to grab and savor joy
A musical and/or sports fandom
Cozy reading
Delicious food
Movement
Belly laughing
Touch and physical closeness
New experiences
Nostalgia
Sparkles and glimmers
Dancing in technicolor

Joy is strength and respite
A buoyancy
What gives us the willpower to take action
When the world seems to be on its knees
And there is power in the collective people
Who come together
To take care of one another
And call for better

And while life is not a fairytale
The stories, romanticizing the every day, and child-like wonder
Sure make it a lot more interesting

Unmasking Emotional Triggers: Navigating Responsibility for Self and Others

I can feel my face growing hot and tingly, as though I’m embarrassed (despite just having come across a picture). Something starts to happen in my chest, and in hindsight my guess is they were heart palpitations. I’m trying to breathe deeply in order to prevent an emotional spiral. Yet it’s as though I’m trapped in this bodily experience and I don’t know how to calm myself down. 

//

I’m watching an incredibly popular yet controversial Netflix series. From what I recall at the time, there was no “viewer discretion advised” and the darkest scene hadn’t yet been taken out. I had heard of the book and was intrigued by the concept. I limited myself to one episode per night with the understanding that it would be heavy, and it most definitely was. It got to a point where I began having nightmares, waking up disoriented and perplexed about where it all came from (I had a similar experience with watching Thirteen back in high school). I sensed that this series wasn’t something I could handle, and decided to refrain from watching again until I felt that I was in a better headspace. 

//

I couldn’t find a formal definition for “emotional trigger,” but from what I understand, it’s a visceral psychological reaction related to a previous traumatic experience. Sometimes the person might feel as though they’re reliving the trauma all over again. In recovery spaces, there are a lot of boundaries put in place during meetings in order to prevent harmful discussion, or the person reverting back to harmful behaviors. 

Unfortunately, the word “trigger” itself has been plagued with negative connotations over the years. It’s been used to mock those who are rightfully upset or angry, which has probably led to misconceptions about being upset or hurt versus genuinely being triggered.

I’ve wrestled with a number of questions on the subject: am I responsible for reducing the likelihood of people being triggered? (and vice versa). Do I absolutely need to put detailed warnings in captions on social media before sharing something? What about educational settings, especially higher education?

The short answer is that it’s complex and comes with many layers. It truly depends on the situation, the audience, and the environment. For instance, if I’m being vulnerable with a group of people (without established rules or boundaries) I don’t want to have to overthink about what I’m going to say and how it’s going to come across. People are allowed to excuse themselves from conversations, take breaks, and do what they need to do. But when I’m having an individual conversation, it feels slightly different. I often think about Dr. Henry Cloud’s book Boundaries, when he touches on that while we’re not responsible for someone’s emotional state, but we are responsible to them. Meaning, if someone comes to me and says “This was (or could be) harmful”, or maybe even just hurtful, I should take the time to hold space for them, listen without getting defensive, and make amends if it’s appropriate.

Academia is tricky; I’ve been out of the classroom for almost a decade, and while there I didn’t engage with media that I found problematic. On one side, there’s the whole “the world is harsh and life is unfair, and you can’t avoid something because it makes you uncomfortable” argument. While this is true to some extent, it comes off as “I had to go through this and I turned out fine so you should too.” We can acknowledge the realities of life while still practicing compassion and empathy. And while learning to use proper coping mechanisms is important, not everyone has access to mental health care that gives them a safe environment to do that. I’d say that if parents are allowed to object to books that their kids are reading in grade school, higher education students have a right to advocate for themselves as well.

As a writer and an activist, social media has become an important part of amplifying things that I care about. I do add a “read with care” note when it comes to certain pieces, along with books that I’ve read (I know that certain words result in content suppression, though I’m not sure about specific warnings, which I’ll continue to research and appreciate any insight on). Over the years I’ve experienced a lot of tone policing in regards to things I’ve shared, from writings to photos to outside articles (and didn’t come from strangers). It was hard to let it roll off my back and not question myself, especially because the whole reason I started blogging in the first place was to share my perspective as a disabled woman (who grew up with the “overcomer” narrative), and when called for, to take a stand. I’m not going to demonize social media when it has provided many opportunities for the Disability Community, including friendship, accessibility, and trying to make an impact. 

And here’s the thing:

Yes the internet has become a breeding ground for division and toxic thinking. It seems like everything is either politicized or polarized. But you, the individual user, are responsible for how you use it and let it impact your life. It’s entirely possible for you to see something you disagree with and keep scrolling. You can unfollow or mute someone without having to unfriend or block them (blocking is always the last resort for me, unless I sense that someone has harmful intentions). If you don’t like it, don’t look at it. Put your phone/tablet/computer down and direct your energy elsewhere. 

If you’re on the receiving end of criticism (some which might border on vitriol or bullying), know that you’re not powerless. Facebook, Instagram and company might be considered a public forum, but that does not mean having to debate or defend your opinion on every little thing (especially when one has an opinion, and one clings to an ideology). In my experience, there are some matters that are no longer up for debate. It’s important to discern when one is looking to learn, clarify, etc. and when one is just looking for a fight (leave the conversation alone and see what kind of messages you come back to). There are battles that are not worth fighting, and there are battles that you’ll never win. It has little to do with you and everything to do with that person who’s desperate to be right. 

I say all of this as someone who is easily triggered by arguments. I understand that conflict (in relationships) is healthy, but my first instinct when I suspect the slightest inkling of tension is to run and hide. I hate having heavy conversations in cars because I feel trapped. If things escalate, I prefer to be in a place where I can close a door, take a break, and re-engage when everyone has calmed down. 

Even more so, I startle easily. Tap me on the shoulder and I might yelp and jump as though I’m watching a horror movie. My body is hypervigilant, even when my mind doesn’t sense danger. I’ve been trying to figure out the root cause for years and can only come up with theories; it could be slightly neurological, and it could be trauma-related. But I’ve long since accepted that it might just be part of me, because I’ve lived like that for so long. 

Life is hard, but that doesn’t mean we have to be so hard on one another. We all need more grace, especially when we don’t get it right. We’re all hurting, and a lot of us still need healing. 

I don’t know the path forward, but I want to move with empathy and compassion. To be soft and strong. To make room for multiple things. If nothing else, for both.

Loving Young

These summer months

Have brought a resurgence

In old things new

A fascination

Of what was once insinuated

That when you’re old enough

You box up

Or give away

No longer a child

And children don’t keep their old toys

First it was the 90’s action figures

In all different colors

That I barely remembered

But came to love the show all the same

Then movie about a doll

One of the very first which I played with

That reminded me of the challenges, triumphs, and empowerment

Of being a woman

Twice over I’ve laughed and cried

With my whole self

And group of radioactive turtles

Not quite my favorite or as many memories

But the fresh takes made me giggle

Some might call this a season of nostalgia

When life wasn’t about living through electronic devices

Or social media

But maybe there’s a sense of timelessness to it

Personally, I needed it

A reminder to seek joy

Revel in laughter

Recall what makes you feel lighter

Regardless of whether or not it’s deemed “cool”

It’s not about the past being better

But perhaps seeing it fresh eyes

Introducing it to new generations

Realizing how it shaped you

Or merely because

 indulging in a pop culture phenomenon feels good!

A comfort

When the rest of the world

Especially the media 

Seems so heavy

One could say this is nothing new for me

That I’ve always been childlike 

*Side-eyes boy band CD collection

To the point of being labeled 

Something other than a grown woman

I’m here for the Barbie Energy

The evolved and the reimagined

The magic of revisiting something wonderful

Perhaps a continuation

Keep it going

Let’s keep dreaming

And being in

The things that don’t weigh us down

When I Took A Break From Alcohol

It had only been dinner and two glasses of wine. I initially fell asleep as I normally do, but then awakened around two a.m. as if I’d been hit by a truck. Everything (aside from my head, surprisingly), hurt all over. By the time I worked up the willpower to get out of bed, I could barely move. The fatigue and weakness stayed with me throughout much of the day, and while I can’t pinpoint what exactly was the cause of such things, I intuitively knew it was time. 

I needed to take a break from drinking, full stop. I chose Lent not necessarily because I was giving something up, but because it seemed like a reasonable time frame. I actually fasted on Ash Wednesday, save for water with a pinch of lemon juice and salt for hydration. I only told a small group of friends at first, because there was something about abstinence from a substance that felt sacred. I wasn’t sure if my decision was only temporary or would eventually take on permanence, and I didn’t want anyone trying to sway where I was at. Not only did I need to break a pandemic habit, but I was trying to figure out if it was triggering a specific reaction in my body. 

There were a lot of flavored seltzer waters and tea. Interestingly enough, I discovered the beauty of steeping cold tea (at a minimum of six hours, and a mason jar is usually most efficient). I had root beer for the first time in over a decade, and I wish La Croix could be purchased in individual cans, rather than having to buy them in boxes. I discovered that my favorite booze-free beverage (so far) is Betty Buzz’s sparkling lemon lime, though it can be tricky to find in most grocery stores (and expensive to order online). I liked (and still do enjoy) having a variety of both fizzy and tepid things to try, though I cannot stand the taste of tonic water. Sending weekly photos to that trusted group helped me keep track of my progress, and helped me stay accountable on the challenging days. 

And by challenging, I’m referring to the social/public aspect of not drinking. There was one instance when I went out to dinner with my family, and I asked for a cucumber cooler without the gin (using the term “virgin” in that context sounds outdated and just plain weird). The waitress took my order, but then came back and asked if I wanted vodka or tequila in it instead. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt because it sounded like English wasn’t her first language, but it rubbed me the wrong way.

I struggled with finding the courage to order a mocktail, especially if I didn’t have a specific one in mind (side note: club soda, a lime or two, and simple syrup is a good place to start), and since it wasn’t a particular month, mocktails themselves weren’t exactly advertised on menus. (I’ll get into the importance of that later). 

But that awkwardness turned into frustration in moments where I felt like I had to explain my decision and was met with, “Well alcohol isn’t good for anyone, and the world would be better off if people stopped drinking.” This undermines just how difficult it can be for some to give it up (as Laura McKowen discusses in her book We Are The Luckiest), whether it’s temporary or completely. Even though I only abstained for forty days, it was still a lonely time, as I skipped out on various social activities, and I was additionally dealing with chronic joint pain. There’s a different and more compassionate response when someone discloses that kind of decision, such as “I’m proud of you,” or “How can I support you?” The former is dismissive and painful, and can be part of the reason why someone doesn’t talk about that part of their journey (especially when they need to). 

The novelty of drinking wore off a long time ago, but I’ve had a complicated relationship with it since I was in my twenties: 

Shortly after turning twenty, I experienced a night on the town from hell. When I tried to talk about what happened with someone whom I needed help from, I was met with, “Well I’m not responsible for my drunk actions.”

During my first year of being a legal drinking age, a friend from high school was killed in a drunk driving accident.

 Between twenty one and twenty-five, There were a number of incidents where I wasn’t coherent enough to give consent, though to be clear, alcohol does not cause someone to violate another person’s body, and assault can still happen when one or both parties are completely sober.

From twenty-six to twenty-nine, I dated several men who struggled with alcohol abuse (insisting they could recover on their own or didn’t have a problem), and not only was it heartbreaking to watch, but it was also hard to set boundaries when I became a de facto therapist for them. I learned that I cannot  be in a romantic relationship with someone who refuses to take responsibility when they could have easily caused harm (or worse) to themselves or someone else.

By now, I have a better understanding of what too much does to my body from a physical standpoint: too much triggers muscle weakness, which makes it difficult to move, and extremely difficult to get up if I fall (there are other factors involved also, such as how tired I am that day or how much I’ve been walking/moving around). Hangovers mean I can barely keep anything down, including water. My body can’t metabolize that stuff the way that it used to. Perhaps I was only fooling myself into thinking that it ever could. 

I admit, I still enjoy the sentimentality of a glass of wine, especially when I’m sitting by the fireplace or watching a hockey game. Tequila is the only hard liquor I really touch these days, and it’s rare. I’m incredibly mindful of how I go about it, especially now that I’m aware of other options. 

I’ve never been one to preach or try to convert anyone to anything, because there are very few things in this world that are black and white. I will say that creative non-alcoholic beverages (not just soda or juice) need to be available year-round, rather than just for Sober October or Dry January). Non-drinkers deserve to be able to socialize in public if and when they’re ready/comfortable, and if someone says that they’re not drinking for whatever reason, that should be the end of the discussion. It’s tough that most coffee shops no longer seem to be open past six o’clock, or there’s a lack of accessibility to both those and public libraries. (whether it be due to distance or disability). There’s a definite need for public community spaces that people can be in without the pressure or requirement to spend an unnecessary amount of money.

And while I won’t get into AA or recovery (I attended Eating Disorders Anonymous meetings and had a sponsor, and the way she treated me left a bad taste in my mouth), I do believe that making better choices requires more grace. Allowing yourself and others to be all of who you are, especially when you have setbacks. Guilt and shame do nothing but deny our humanity, and keep people from moving forward. And a little humility goes a long way.

I’m trying to live a more gentle life; a life that’s focused on presence and ease, rather than caving into hustle culture.  And it starts with being gentle with myself. Especially when I’m afraid of embarrassing myself, afraid of being abandoned, or even outright rejected because of what I cannot control.

I’m thankful for those who supported me then, and for those who continue to support me as I try to implement the best care for my body, mind, and soul. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time.

Knocking

It’s frustrating, not knowing if it’s you or them or some combination of the two…

Fresh off of graduation high

There were no limits to the sky

I had a dozen dreams

At twenty two 

that was good enough for me 

With a pen and a degree

A golden road of possibilities 

Maybe I had rose colored glasses 

About glamour and sky scrapers

Fast paced and deadlines

“It’ll be too much pressure”

Supposedly aiming higher than I could see

But what’s an aspiring career creative supposed to do?

Told to take what you can get

“Not enough experience”

Without direction or guidance 

It chips at confidence 

So I made myself small

To fill a resume 

And get a little pay

Micromanaging and gurus

Instead of mentors and leadership 

Work harder, some said

Ignoring the toxic systems already in place

Set up for failure instead of success

I didn’t know how to pause and assess

To pivot, more broadly, and go another way

You say I’m not good enough

Before seeing what I can do

You say it’s not a good fit

But you’ve yet to see me

Leaving me lost 

with empty questions

How do I reinvent myself 

If all I get is silence or half truths?

I’m not in my twenties anymore 

But 2023 has me roaring 

Talking to whomever I can

To find that magic button 

That will elevate my dreams

And I know dreams change 

Landscapes, lifestyles, and markets never stay the same 

Desk life isn’t what it use to be

Blame it on technology

I fault your lack of variety 

Willingness to embrace diversity 

Especially when it comes to those 

Who have different needs

All I’ve ever known is my gift(s)

Wanting to use them

To offer a unique perspective 

And I don’t need a cubicle to use them well

But it would be nice

If you evolved

As I do

And gave me not just a chance

But a real opportunity 

That becomes a trajectory