My Heart…

Summer OOTD

Birthday Girl

Excuse this self-indulgent post but I’m celebrating myself today. This birthday feels like a drag this year but I’m trying hard to be positive. Cheers to the old days when we were young and our biggest worries were if we could eat candy for breakfast and if our favourite television show was going to be a new episode or a re-run.

Collective Trauma and 2020

What a wild ride 2020 has been so far. 

If you would have asked me five years ago where I thought I would be in 2020, it certainly was not here. I have learned a lot in five years. I have grieved, focused on my poetry, gone back to university, and above all else, put myself first. 

And now we’re living through a pandemic. We’re all dealing with stress and uncertainty. Every day is yet another hurdle, a challenge, and it’s draining. For me, for you, for all of us. 

At the end of December 2019, there were rumblings of a virus. I have to confess–I had thought it would be an epidemic and did not pay heed to the news. I was too busy getting ready to go back to university to finish my degree. I had so many things on my mind, and a pandemic was not one of them. 

But by mid-April, I knew. It was a pandemic–I could no longer ignore it. In-person classes were cancelled and classes were moved online. But still, the anxiety and uncertainty remained. 

When my city (and province) went on lockdown, there was a flurry of people buying toilet paper and stocking up on groceries. I’m sure you know about that. The anxiety of not knowing if we had enough groceries to last us a few days was tremendous. My family didn’t hoard anything since we knew that even in lockdown, we were still able to go to the grocery store. But it was still the fact that people were doing it that made me anxious. 

I know I’m not alone in feeling anxious and uncertain about the future. I know we’re all worried about our health and the health of our loved ones. These are hard times–for all of us. We’re all dealing with grief over what could have been and the plans we had for 2020. We’re all living through a collective, shared trauma. 

Aside from the pandemic, there is so much going on in the world. The Black Lives Matter movement, civil unrest, the 2020 US election, the wildfires. There are so many other things that are occurring right now but I am not going to be pedantic and list them all. It is just too much. 

I made a conscious decision to limit the time I spend watching the news. At the beginning of the year, I gobbled up the news earnestly but I became exhausted and angry. In making that decision, I still get angry (I should probably work on that) but I am not overwhelmed–well, as overwhelmed as before. I recommend staying engaged and up-to-date but be careful by what and how much you consume. 

I know many of us wish for this to be over and behind us. Every day I wake up, I try to be hopeful but it is getting harder and harder. I still try and I think, at this point in 2020, that’s all that should matter. 

So this is my update on how I am doing– not great but at least I’m still here. 

I hope you and your family are healthy and staying safe. 

Much love in these uncertain times, 

A. 

Reflecting Back on 2019

What a year this has been. It’s been a year that has dragged on, it’s been a year that has flown by.

When I left the Bad Situation in December 2018, I was terrified of 2019. What it would look like, what it would mean to me. I was afraid of the unknown and change. But for us to grow, our old selves must moult and die.

In the last dredges of spring 2018, I had willingly, hesitantly, worriedly added my name to the waitlist for an intensive therapy outpatient program. I waited and waited and by late summer, I received a call that I was next up on the list. I balked and asked to be pushed back until the next opening. I wasn’t ready, I didn’t have my affairs in order. I didn’t have my head on straight. I used all of these excuses to stay stuck and safe, even if it was slowly eating me alive.

Then in the fall of 2018, I received yet another call. It was time. I had to stop being afraid and take the plunge. I left the Bad Situation in December 2018, rushed to get my affairs in order, and finally, in January 2019, I entered treatment.

Half of 2019 was spent healing myself. I look back at treatment and am proud of myself. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but it was also the most rewarding. It was twelve weeks long. Twelve torturous weeks of walking through hell. Dealing with the past, facing consequences of a reckless life spent (mentally) ill, immersing myself in past traumas to finally face them and let them go. It was cathartic, and it wasn’t easy. But I survived. I found my strength and resilience. It was in me all along. I just didn’t know it until treatment.

I do miss treatment, I miss the structure, the cathartic verbal purging of my soul and mind, and I miss group therapy. But all good and bad things must come to an end. At the end of the twelve weeks, I ‘graduated’. I was healing and just starting my journey.

I look back at the beginning half of 2019 and try to remind my present self that I was so confident in my skin, I liked myself, I liked who I had become, I was strong.

It’s a struggle. A struggle to try and continue to be that person at the end of treatment. To remember that person. The person that exuded self-like and confidence. I did fall back into my old behaviours a few times this year, but that was to be expected. I’m still struggling and still learning how to execute all that I learned in treatment. 

Closure and saying goodbye…

On Saturday, I saw my psychiatrist for the first time in months and later I found out, for the last time. 

He spends Monday to Friday in a hospital but works Saturdays seeing clients at a clinic. I found out that he was ending his Saturdays at the clinic. I was happy to hear that since I knew he had mentioned his fear of burning out and working to exhaustion but the happiness selfishly ebbed when I realized it was goodbye. 

He was the reason I am stable today. Sure, treatment and intensive therapy have helped immensely but without him, I know I wouldn’t be in such a fantastically bright place as I am today. With his aid, I was able to wean myself off of Seroquel, the first drug I was prescribed when I was first diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder back in 2015. I feel energetic and lighter than I’ve felt in a long time. I also started a new medication which has helped stabilize me. 

I owe most of these positive changes to him and I am indebted to him. I am filled with gratitude for this doctor that helped me tremendously. He was the first doctor to listen to me, the first one to care. 

When he told me, I was heartbroken. It was a short visit, mostly to get refills for my prescriptions and mainly to say goodbye. I gave my thanks and forced myself not to cry. I didn’t care if my makeup smeared, that hasn’t stopped me from crying before and it won’t now. I didn’t want to cry because this was a happy goodbye. 

Trying to feel grateful…

is hard when you’re down in the dumps. For some reason, being ungrateful is easy (though it only adds more shame to the awfulness) and trying to be grateful is quite hard. For me, at least.

Depression and/or mental illness is very insular and internal, it takes all of our focus and turns it inwards. It’s easy to get lost in the fog in our heads and lose touch with the world around us. It’s not that I want to slip and fall backwards, I don’t (who actually wants that?!) but after spending a lifetime being depressed and self-destructive, it’s instinctual to do so.

I was watching a drama yesterday and the theme of the show was, being grateful for the people in our lives and our relationships with each other, as opposed to worshipping the material.

I don’t have a job anymore and my finances is a horror movie at the moment. Every little bump in the road seems cataclysmic. Radical acceptance is hard, turning the mind is harder and so I turn to reframing, or at least, gratefulness.

It’s so easy to focus on what we don’t have and all that we want than being thankful for all that we have and most of all, grateful for the people in our lives.

It doesn’t diminish or even negate my (and our) current struggles but it does help me feel more connected and less isolated.

Yes, I’m doing this on my own but I have support, people that love me and those that are my lighthouses, standing tall amidst the storm, beckoning me back home.

And it’s here, even in my struggles and in the uncertainty that the future holds, where I feel grateful. For all that I have and for all the people in my life. When I think about it that way, being grateful is easy.

On Being a Perfectionist + Life Update

Perfectionism

 

A narrative exists in our culture where perfectionism is the epitome of efficiency and something we should all aspire to attain. Imagine doing everything perfectly and precisely, and living a clean and perfect life. Sounds great, right?

But let’s be honest, being a perfectionist sucks. It’s exhausting, it’s tiring and it takes a toll. I’m a lazy perfectionist. Does that even exist? I can assure you, it does. Let me explain what that looks like on me:

Exploring with Maggie

Momentously Small: I’m okay and I’m fine.

Something I learned recently is to celebrate the little victories and pay attention to the things I otherwise take for granted. Basic enough, right? But for some reason, I always forget that it isn’t the big things that should be measured, it’s the little things.

It’s the little things that can break my heart, fill it up again, make me laugh or cry. It’s the little things that matter. It’s the little things that make up the big ones and it’s the little waves that can turn into a tsunami. It’s the little victories I always forget, overlooking them while I wait for bigger fireworks.

 

Until recently, I used to always say, I’m okay. Things are okay. Nothing new. It was dismissive and empty, hollowed out words, void of what I was really feeling, what I was currently living. I think we all do it, when someone asks how we’re doing, we just give non-committal answers to move the conversation along. Because at the end of the day, there aren’t that many people who want to hear our real answer, especially when they’re being polite.