Ideal Self

Sorry for my long absence, I’m on my third week of meds for anxiety.  As you could probably tell by my post on anxiety, mine had gotten out of control.  The good news is my medications are working and I am starting to feel better. 

I ended up taking a few days off work to see how I would react to the meds and I discovered something.   I do better with structure.  I do better when I have to be somewhere every day at 8am.  It has only been in the last 2 years that I have had a normal schedule like this and my health has been a lot better and my sleep has become amazingly better.

The first day I had off, the meds weren’t giving me any strange side effects so I wasn’t spending that resting in bed.  I found it fun, dyed my hair, and watched a movie. 

The second day I felt like a slug.  I didn’t want to move, I had slept too much and that makes my body hurt. I barely did anything.  I was grumpy too.  I looked around and had a realization.  If I worked less and stayed home more my house would not be cleaner.  I wouldn’t spend my time making crafts and writing.  I would spend my time watching tv and eating.

It’s a fantasy I need to let go of. Time is not the only enemy to this idealized self.  “If I had enough time I would write that book…”  My own will, my emotional and physical health are also barriers to this fantasy life.

  I’m not saying we should all be pushing ourselves harder, and to stop watching TV and sleep less.  I need that rest; I have limitations within my body.  Even when it comes to sitting I feel pain. 

I’m saying there is an ideal self, an image in our head, of who we would like to be.  Maybe it would be better if we grieved that, let that image go, and just love ourselves just the way we are.

I am proud to be a beautiful mess. 

I haven’t given up on writing or being creative; but I allow myself to have balance.  

I haven’t mastered this.  I have very high expectations for myself and find that I am my worst critic.  I’m working on accepting this beautiful mess, just as I am. 

If you want someone to hold your hand you must first open your hand.

Over the years of learning how to sit by people in pain as a chaplain I have developed a helpful tool for physical touch.  First, I never assume someone wants a hug or a comforting arm around the shoulder.  The best thing to do is ask if it is okay to reach out and touch them.  You never know what physical pain they might be in or if they don’t want to be touched because of psychological trauma. 

I have had people in both my private and work life go to hug me when I didn’t want to be touched.  When someone does that to me now, I make my boundaries known by stating them.  It usually comes out as a yell.

My education has taught me how to read someone’s body language and all of their nonverbal communication.  People do this amazing thing when the want to be touched. Their hand goes away from their body and rests palm side up. It’s never in a clenched fist or with arms folded and hands tucked away. 

I can see this body language in others and in myself.  When I want my hand to be held all I have had to do is let go and open it.  This was true in my hospital beds and on my second date with my boyfriend. All I had to do was to make my hand available.

This concept is a comfort to me.  When I am feeling alone, sad, isolated, or depressed, all I have to do is open my hand and someone will be beside me.  It’s a vulnerable feeling, but also an act of courage.  If you need someone to hold your hand, just open it up and make yourself available.     

Pain and Anxiety

 

            Over the years and years of dealing with a chronic pain condition I have found that pain and anxiety have a relationship.  The anxiety of possible pain has paralyzed me and kept me from sleep. I believe I have experienced both normal/passing anxiety and clinical/diagnosable anxiety.  I now take a medication at bedtime to help with it.  

            My anxiety is all revolved around pain. I get tearful just to talk about my pain because I remember when my pain was at its worst and I get fearful it will get that bad again.  Sometimes my anxiety is warranted and I feel pain matching or exceeding the pain I have experienced in my past.  My experiences are teaching me to expect pain. 

            Last spring, I had extreme pain in the heels of my feet.  It was very hard for me to walk, especially at the end of the day.  I would stand up after dinner with my boyfriend and I would be unable to walk as I stood there adjusting to the pain. BF would give me his shoulder to hold me up and help me to the car. I eventually got a cane. The cane helped, but I struggled with using it at work.  

        "What happened? Are you okay?"

No I'm not okay, I'm never okay, I'm pretending to be okay and your sympathy is getting in the way of my preformence. 

I have anxiety about calling in sick to work. I was fired once for calling in sick during the first month of employment.

I fear my boss will ask too much of me. 

I have anxiety about my abilities deteriorating. 

I have anxiety about my prognosis.  If I'm alone in a quiet room and there is a ticking clock, I go mad. The repetitive sound of the clock mocks me by drilling into my head that my life is short. Any repetitive sound aggravates my nerves because of the fibromyalgia.   

I have anxiety about undone chores. This stress me out because I fear that I'll become so ill that I'll run out of clean clothes. (That has happened before when I was living alone) Same goes for dishes. 

I have anxiety that I will become disabled and unable to work. 

I fear I will run out of pain meds. 

I fear that people won't believe my pain. I went to the ER once in horrible pain and they doubted me because I was listening to my iPod. I was listening to my iPod to try and distract myself from the pain. 

I fear I won't be able to sleep. 

I fear the worst can happen, my condition will get worse, BF could leave me, and I would have to move back home with my abusive alcoholic father. 

       I can hear my inner therapist validating these warranted fears. 

The thing is.... I don't know what to do about these fears and anxiety. 

I think some people would tell me to "give it over to God."

Okay, but I cant ignore it because these experiences are part of my past and often part of my present. 

Some people may push it off, "just don't worry so much."

Thanks... I guess I'm cured now. That's my knee-jerk sarcastic response I seem to always have locked and loaded. I wish these people could understand that I am not choosing to be anxious. It feels out of my control. 

Matthew 6 "25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.Are you not much more valuable than they?27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

... 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Beautiful sentiment, but I don't know how to do this. God asks this of us but I really need a step by step guide to do this. Maybe God can do this within me through medicating my anxiety. God can work through medications.

 But there is additional fear in handing my anxiety to God because I fear that my anxiety will become another disease that won't be healed and can't be cured. One day I will have too many incurable diseases and conditions that I snap. I'm waiting for the day that I give up and simply go comatose because it's too much to handle. 

         It's so hard to just breath and live everyday with the anxiety. It's like trying to keep a lion beside me all day without it attacking me. I'm holding onto the leash while I try to work and participate in the world. 

I'm sorry if this was painful to read. I know it's much more fun to read a story about how someone overcame it. 

If you've experienced this, I'm also sorry. 

If you're a medical professional treating people like me, 

please listen, 

please support, 

please get your people the treatment and medication they need. 

  

Being Wonder Woman

Yes, I'm about to philosophize about my Halloween costume. 

        This year I chose to be Wonder Woman, lazy Wonder Woman in fact.  I wore a t-shirt that looked like her uniform with a few extra touches. 

        I wanted to be her because over the past few years she has become an important new archetype for me. I read The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore and it really opened my eyes to the intention of Wonder Woman (ww) to be a reflection of the suffragette movement and powerful women. 

        She replaced the Disney princess in my head. I feel like she is someone to aspire to. 

         But some who have written for her have tied her back down and got away from the original vision. The new 52 comic books are way closer the way William Moulton Marston originally wrote her. I love reading them! 

Over the past week I have been victim to others' conceptions of her. 

She is a very sexual figure. 

        This scared me in the beginning that ww might just be a male fantasy. I now view her sexuality as part of her power; because I view my sexuality as part of my power. 

         Our world is filled with competing views of sexuality. It's still taboo and religious, it's personal but judged by others. I believe we are still a culture that punishes women who express their sexuality.  We slut shame and assume they are desperate for male attention.  Sometimes when a woman express her sexuality it can be for herself, for creativity, for fitness, to teach, and to lead. 

       On top of this people in general have trouble with a plus size woman expressing her sexuality. Movies have wrongly taught us that a plus size woman making sexual advances is a joke to be laughed at.  This pains me, personally. 

        So I went to our friends Halloween party with my boyfriend on my arm  and we had a great time. My friends who know me didn't bat an eyelash at my costume choice. I'm blessed with friends and acquaintances that accept me for who I am and I get to be myself. 

        My office also had a party. When a coworker asked me what my costume was going to be and I told her.

       She laughed. 

       She laughed in such a way that I felt laughed at. After her laugh blurted out she gave me a condescending "okay." I felt like she was laughing at me for picking a sexual character.

I wore my ww costume anyway. Fuck her, I wear what I want! 

       When I get to work today many expressed excitement about my outfit. But then I saw my size 0 coworker come in as Wonder Woman as well.  People immediately started comparing us. I felt so uncomfortable. 

         Then a coworker came up and told me I should of worn more makeup to be  ww. She said I would look better if I wore more makeup all the time. This hurt me greatly. She didn't know I had gotten up early to just put on the makeup I had on.          

         People compared the wonder women all day. Someone even joked that the token young single male in the office would have his pick of us.  Our costumes weren't revealing at all but still people seem to be objectifying us.  It seemed to be that by dressing up as Wonder Woman made people feel it was okay to judge me.  I made them feel uncomfortable because they only view ww as sexy and they don't see me as sexy. And yah, coworkers aren't the idea audience for your sexuality, but you know it exists.  I felt like no one wanted to know my sexuality exists.  

The owner of the company joked that we were "wonder girls" not Wonder Woman.  All I could say was "no." 

Subtle subjugation. 

        The whole experience was Exhausting. I hate that I live in a world were people behave this way.  I limped away from work. 

      I came home to my man who thinks I'm a beautiful, sexy, powerful woman. I cried thankful tears. 

I wish I was better at brushing off experience like this. My inner  therapist is saying "your neuroses are showing!" 

I don't know how to change the world when it is hurting me. 

Being a youth pastor

It has been just over two year since I left my position as a youth pastor at a Baptist church.  I loved being a youth pastor.  I had wonderful kids and a lot of freedom and support. I was there for over 7 year and the job wore on me after a while.  I couldn’t do overnights anymore and I became bad at hiding that my theology was different than the head pastor’s. 

I think the reason I had so many kids in my group was because my objective was not to “save’ them, but “raise” them in a safe and nurturing environment.  I wanted those kids to be exactly who they were and express themselves.  I think that mission goes hand in hand with God’s mission and that teaching kids about the bible can help them discover who they are.  I taught them scripture but also that the Bible is old and God is current, still speaking in new ways.   

My liberal approach did have flaws.  I don’t know if the kids in my group did more drugs and had more sex than other church kids or if it was that they felt free enough to talk to me about it?  Overall I consider my time there a success.  I taught the kids that God is an experience and not just an intellectual pursuit.  I taught them that their actions matter and relationships are important. 

We were a true community, there for each other in the hard times.  I miss watching those kids discover things and being silly. No one at my current job tries to attack me with silly string.     

Since I left the number of young people attending that church has plummeted.  I feel guilty about that for many reasons; one being that I take it as confirmation that what I was doing was the right approach for the kids in that area.  I also feel guilt because I feel like I have abandoned them.  It’s hard to leave a job you love and that you’re good at for something else. I knew it was my time to be a chaplain, but still it was so hard to leave. 

There have been gifts to leaving ministry and sacrifices.  I now can live openly with my boyfriend and some of the older kids and I have become close friends.  But, I lost that church family.  After I stepped down from my position I felt it best that I not attended the church either.  I didn’t want the kids openly comparing me to the new leader. I miss that church fiercely.

It’s hard to talk about the specifics because that time was so sacred, it feels strange to explain it.  All I know is that when I would walk down those basement stairs the world would change; I could breathe easy and free.               

Epiphanies

            Epiphanies are these magical moments when a light bulb goes off in your head.  In therapy we call it a breakthrough.  I think epiphanies are spotlights on a present moment. 

There have been many times in my life when I am getting analytical with a therapist or friends when it seems like the words we say are magical and explain everything you didn’t know before about yourself before that very moment. 

            Those epiphany words only hold their magic in that one moment and then the magic is gone.  The feeling of having epiphanies can sometimes feel like getting high off of a drug for a moment.  We want to keep that happy/high feeling, so in a desperate attempt at recreating it we repeat the words. 

I have found it very disappointing in the past that when I repeat the words they don’t feel the same a second time around.  It feels like I haven’t remembered the words just right, and I blame that on the lack of euphoria. The words themselves are not the epiphany, just part of it.  An epiphany is when the stars align just right; you are open to learning, you’re spiritually ready, and someone says the right thing and you hear it in just the right way.  It’s a shooting star that is here for just a brief moment.    

The words can remind us of the epiphany, but not recreate it.  That is why I think epiphanies are treasures of the present moment.  They are special moments in our lives that change us and enlighten us.

Yesterday I was counseling someone for a second time. In our first session she had had some epiphany moments.  It’s such an honor to be present when someone has this kind of moment of realization.  When I showed up this time she was prepared with pen and paper.  I understand her urge to write down was seem like mystical words but it is best to be present when you are in midst of your own breakthroughs, trust your memory of the feelings to keep you going. 

Accepting people for who they are

            I think even the most tolerant person struggles with accepting people just as they are.  Acceptance has a lot to do with not vilifying the person once you learn something negative about them; or perhaps even harder, when they hurt you. 

I have struggled with this my whole life.  I think life would be a whole lot easier if things were just black and white; you are either a good guy or a bad guy.  I am told that many children of alcoholics struggle with this.  My religious upbringing reinforced this false belief as well.

Right now I am struggling one of my close friends and accepting her just the way she is.  I have been struggling with our friendship for over a year now.  I was seriously thinking of titling this blog, “how to break up with a friend.”   It feels that bad.

She is getting married and that has rubbed up against a hundred issues I have with her.  I find her very judgmental. (Now let me to take a moment to point out the irony here, yes I am judging her for being too judgmental.  Paradox, no?)  I’m also jealous that her friends, family, and society validates her life choices.  I don’t want to get married, that’s a subject for another blog. 

We had a fight that is the root of all of this.  She was talking about her soon to be step daughter and how worried that she will become a spoiled only child.  I got curious about her fears and started asking her more about growing up and her relationship with her mother.  I asked her “what are you afraid of?”  She screamed at me, “I’m afraid she will turn out like you!”  I was so hurt.  We now joke about that conversation as when I tried to ‘chaplain’ her.

Things really changed for me about six months after that. At her birthday party I was shocked to hear her say several racist things and told her I was offended.  She said something to the effect of, “You can’t accuse me of racism because you called me crying twice this week.”  I stormed out in an outrage.  Since that moment I have tried to hind my vulnerable side from her.  We are not the type of friends who sit and talk about our feelings... anymore, we used to be that way.

Now, she wants me to be both officiating and a bridesmaid at her wedding.  I have explained to her that I just can’t do both.  When explaining I said I didn’t want to be a bridesmaid.  She called me the next day and said she was offended, “You’re one of my bestfriends.”  I would love to find a good way to tell her, no we are not good friends.  I don’t want to support you on your wedding day because you don’t care about my emotions or feeling because you don’t like to talk about feelings. 

I cried and mourned the relationship we used to have, when we would have long dinners filled with talking.  I mourned that times I used to feel safe with her.  I cried because I wanted to break up with her.

But!

She can’t be perfect, and she isn’t some demonic force.  She is who she is.  She is a person that does not like to get analytical.  She is a person who wants to get married, and not only that, but have a big expensive wedding.  She is a person that would drop everything and go to the hospital with me.

 Can I accept her for who she is? 

I hope I can find some sort of compromise in the days to come that allow me to express my grief over what our relationship has become and accept her.  Right now it feels like I will need a magic wand to make that happen.