if I could bottle up my emotions right now and hand it to someone, I'd label it 'f*ck'

 {via}

I'm neglecting this blog. 

Not intentionally.  Okay, maybe intentionally.  For one, I'm writing for Stratejoy every week and I'm already having a tough time trying to pump out posts for that.  Two, I have so many thoughts running through my brain and I just don't know how to write them down without busting into tears. 

I feel like I'm in a glass case of emotions.

Ten points to whoever catches that movie reference.

I'm just... so...

scared. terrified. sad. excited. nervous. anxious. overwhelmed. stressed. upset. depressed.

and...

and...

and...

I'm basically feeling every god damn emotion a human being could possibly feel, all at once.  And I don't know how the fuck to deal with it.  I spend my nights laying in bed watching netflix instead of packing because I'm just too fucking terrified to embrace the fact that I'm leaving.  I spend most of my time with my two best girl friends because I'm so effing upset and sad to leave them and I know I'm going to break down into tears when I say goodbye to them.  I've canceled plans with other friends because I just can't fucking see them, knowing it's one more 'goodbye' I have to say.  I'm too upset about going home to Pittsburgh to see my brother because I don't know when I'm going to see him again.

Fuck.

Sorry, I had to say it.  Because if I could bottle up everything I'm feeling and hand it to someone as a present, I would say, I got you a bottle of 'fuck.'

And then they'd be all, WTF? 

And I'd be all, I know.  I don't know.  Don't ask.  I don't know.  Fuck.

I swear, I'm not bi-polar.  

......yet. 

"the world stares while I swallow the fear"

 {via}

Ever since I had that conversation and wrote about leading a double life, I can't stop thinking about it.  Why am I doing this?  What am I afraid of?  What's the point? ...are the questions running through my head.  I struggle with the idea that people - strangers, friends, random bloggers, acquaintances - could still like me (in whatever capacity) after I put it all out there.  Being vulnerable is scary.  I want to put it all out there without having people turn away or think differently of me.

I took a two hour walk around Center City today.  I walked around Fairmount, Rittenhouse, and Society Hill.  With coffee in hand and Pink's new song blasting on my iPod on repeat.

"Pretty, pretty please

Don't you ever, ever feel

Like your less than

Fuckin' perfect"

I couldn't stop listening to that song.  I still can't.  The beat.  The lyrics.  She nailed it.  TWSS.

Today, I had a moment.  As I walked through Rittenhouse Park, after purchasing a new pair of Lucky jeans, and I tossed my Starbucks coffee cup in the trash can.  The simple act of throwing away that coffee cup made me feel like I was unchaining myself from this city.  Emotionally, I could feel the chains falling from my heart and soul.  Everything that was chaining me down was slowly being released.  And it felt amazing.  

It was during that stroll through the city when I realized that I don't want to continue leading this double life.  I want to put myself out there - honestly, and genuinely - without caring what others think.  

"Change the voices in your head

Make them like you instead"

Remember when I told you I was one of six Stratejoy bloggers?  Well, this week we finally go live.  And when I accepted the position, I made a promise to myself that I would write honestly and genuinely about things I'm struggling with, things I'm working on, and the hardships I've overcome.  Friends and acquaintances who don't know about my struggle with depression and losing my parents will finally read about it.  Because in order to find my authentic happiness, I need to learn to be comfortable revealing my dark and damaged past.  I have always cared about what others think - Will they judge me?  Will they feel sorry for me? - but now I just don't care.  

I don't want to be ashamed of what I've been through; I want to be proud of having the strength to survive.

** Title and quotes in this post can be heard in Pink's new amazing song, Fuckin' Perfect.

unhappy, unsatisfied, disconnected

{via}

When I made the decision to move to Praha, I didn't look at it as a truth-seeking journey.  I chalked it up to turning a sour job loss into an incredible opportunity.  I didn't consider the fact that I was running away from my life here in the States.  Or the fact that I'm searching for something to fill an emotional void.  I looked at this as a chance to gain experience, to start fresh, to change my life.

I watched Eat Pray Love last night, and while it wasn't as good as I wanted it to be (movies based on books rarely are), I really connected to Elizabeth Gilbert's mission to leave her marriage and seek a life full of passion, truth and happiness.  Shouldn't we all be searching for ultimate happiness?

At the end of the movie, Elizabeth says:

"If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter, old resentments, and set out on a truth-seeking journey, either externally or internally, and if you are willing to regard everything that happens on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher and if you are prepared, most of all, to face some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you."

And that's when I realized:  this is my truth-seeking journey. This is my self-discovering journey where I figure out my true self.  The hardest thing in the world for me to do, is be honest with myself.  The reality is, a big part of me is running away from the foundation I've built here.  I'm incredibly unsatisfied with nearly every aspect of my life, and that's a harsh truth to accept.  I don't know how to be satisfied here, so I'm choosing to run away.  Because it's so much easier to run away from everything, than face it head-on feeling unsatisfied.

Friends have told me they don't understand why I'm doing this.  Frankly, I'm beginning to think I don't understand either.  It's so much easier to say, "I'm spending time traveling the world" than it is to say, "I'm running away from my life here."   I don't know what I'm looking for.  I don't know what I'm expecting to find at the end of this journey.  I just know I'm unhappy, unsatisfied, and disconnected from what I have here.  I feel like everyone has their life in check - they know what they want and they're taking the steps to do it.  And I'm just standing here, with my feet in the cement, trying to figure out which direction to walk in.  

I want happiness, passion, and truth.  I want to be able to look myself in the mirror at the end of each day and be happy with myself.  I want to stop feeling unsatisfied, disconnected and empty.   I just want to feel something other than what I'm feeling right now.

"don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be all right"

{{This post is part of #reverb10, an annual event and month-long online initiative to reflect on this year and manifest what's next for 2011.

 

December 24th Prompt: Everything's OK.  What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything's going to be alright?  And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?}}

 

My plan was to ring in 2011 with good friends, re-brand my nonprofit organization, and start graduate school.  But then all of the shit hit the fan at once, and I found myself curled up in a ball on my couch, blindly staring at my television, feeling crippled.  I didn't want to do anything or go anywhere.  I just wanted to lay.  I haven't felt that type of crippling since June 2003.

My plan instantly shattered when my law firm announced dissolution.  I knew it was coming, but I didn't realize it would be so soon.  We never fully prepare ourselves for these types of moments.  I didn't have a back-up plan.  I didn't think I would need one because I never thought my law firm would dissolve.  

And then someone sent me something:

"Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do.  But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength."

 

I had read it before - many times, in fact - but this time, it really hit me.  Little bits of motivation and inspiration from a wonderful person to push me to continue doing what I do best.  That's what friends are for - to push you when you feel crippled; to help you in times when you need their help the most.

 

It was a small gesture with a powerful punch, but it was exactly what I needed to realize that I'm going to be okay.  I'm so much stronger than this, and life really does move on.

Everything's going to be okay.

 

So for that, I thank you.   

 

* title from Bob Marley's Everything's Gonna Be Alright

it's about accepting and owning the many pieces of your life

(via)

I sat there, talking about Elizabeth Gilbert, Jennifer Lancaster, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs.  

"I just can't find my voice." I said, "all of those authors talk about the detailed intimacies of their lives like it's no big deal."

"And why do you think that is?" she asked me.

I thought about it for a second.  "I don't know."

"What do all of those writers have in common?" she asked.  

The questions were getting a little annoying, but I know she was trying to get me to see the bigger picture.

"Me.  Because I read their books."  I smiled.  As she let out a laugh, I knew that probably wasn't the answer she was looking for.  

And then it hit me.  

It's about owning and accepting your life.  

...Accepting your past in order to get to your brighter future...

...Owning the mistakes you've made, the lessons you've learned and the experiences you've witnessed first-hand when you tell your story...

I've never been good with the whole acceptance thing.  Unless it's money or alcohol related.

Why yes, I will graciously accept that crisp $100 bill that I see poking out of your zipper wallet so you can buy me a drink.

See?  Easy acceptance.  

But accepting the dark and scary stuff?  It's too hard.  

TWSS.

As much as people tell me how brave and strong of a woman I am, I am embarrassed about my past.  The reality is, people look at me differently - whether in a good way or a bad way - and I hate that.  I hate being that girl with a broken past.  I know it's something I should be proud of, but I can't get myself to that point yet.  I can't accept how my life has turned out.  Which leads to the failure of owning it.  Which also leads to the failure of completing my memoir.

I've been working on my memoir a lot lately and I realized that I can't find my "voice" until I own my past.  David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs are such great writers and they write about the intimate details of their life because they have accepted and owned up to it.   

I want to get there, I just don't know how.

Where's "there?"

You know, there.  That point in life where you are completely comfortable.  You don't cringe when you have to recapture those tragic moments of your life.  You don't feel embarrassed when the only reply you get is, "I'm sorry." or "That sucks."  You don't feel judged or criticized.  You just feel... you.

I know getting there is a long, slow process.  It takes understanding and accepting the smaller things (like accepting the act of suicide before volunteering with suicide prevention) to accept the bigger things.  It's difficult to accept certain things in life that you feel you could have changed.  Or even prevented.  At 12 years old, I feel like I could have done or said something to change my father's decision.  I felt like I should have done something, even though none of us had any idea something was wrong with him.

Acceptance and ownership could be the missing pieces of my happiness, but at least I know I'm on the right track of getting there.  And one day, I'll be able to own my story.  And my memoir.

I deserve to be happy after what I have lived through

 "Completion comes from not adding another piece onto ourselves, but from surrendering our ideas of perfection."

- Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart, Mark Epstein -

The most challenging thing about therapy is breaking down the walls, uncovering your soul and exposing yourself (metaphorically speaking) to a stranger.  You have to be able to trust that they can help you figure out how to grieve with your past and move on to your future.  You have to be patient, willing, and open to new ideas, new thought-processes and accept the fact that their job is to help you fix yourself.  And find yourself.

From relationships to friendships to family to work - I uncovered my heart and soul to this woman.  I had to if I ever have a shot at recovering from what I have been through.  I told her things I haven't even told some of my closest friends.  I told her how broken and damaged I am - mentally - because I never had the chance to grieve for my parents or cope with my cancer.  I felt downright exhausted after my first session.

Over the weekend, I told someone that I had just started seeing a therapist, and he did the one thing I feared most.

He laughed.

He found it comical that I need to see a therapist because I witnessed my father hanging from the pipes in my basement with a rope tied around his neck when I was 12 years old; Or that for nearly one year of my two year battle with cervical cancer I was facing death in the eyes and fighting for my life.

Nothing about this is funny. 

I have experienced more in my twenty six years of life, than most people ever will in their lifetime.  I have been through hell and back and I'm still [somehow] standing on my two feet. 

I'm stronger than you'll ever be, I thought to myself.  It's not easy to ask for professional help. But it makes it much more difficult when I have people - so-called "friends" - in my life who are being unsupportive of my decisions and laughing at this.

My life isn't perfect.  And I have done some things in my past that have led to my damaged and broken life - but I know that I need help; I know that I need to talk to someone, to get this all out of my system in order to move on and be happy.

Seven years of unresolved grief, sadness, depression and loneliness.

I deserve to be happy after what I have lived through.

And I refuse to let anyone take that away from me.  Not now, not ever.

this is my confession:

"That's the thing ... there are some things people don't admit because they just don't like the way it sounds."

The first step in any road to recovery is admitting it.

The loneliness set in about three weeks ago.  I have been so busy with getting other things in order that it nearly caught me off guard.  I was sitting at home, watching a movie and I felt this sudden pain in my chest.  Not the I'm having a heart attack pain, but more like a deep weight setting on my chest.

For the last six years, I have battled depression.  I was diagnosed right after my mother passed away, and rather than take anti-depressants (I've witnessed first hand what it can do to a person), I decided I would fight it on my own.  Most times, I win.  But every once in a while, my depression wins.  And those times it does win?  It's beyond painful.  

Lately, I've been fighting a double battle - depression and loneliness.  I've been too scared to admit it to myself but I know fighting it will only do worse damage than working through it.  I'm lonely.  But not the I'm lonely and need a relationship or more friends to cure this way. 

I envy every single person who has the ability to talk to their parents whenever they want.  I lost both of my parents by age 20, and having to grow up without them truly sucks.  I knew it was going to be hard, but I guess I didn't realize it was going to be this hard.  Not a moment goes by when I don't think about them.  Everything I've experienced in the last six years, I've had to experience on my own.  I have no parental support system anymore.  And the love and support I have from my brothers and friends, don't make up for what I've already lost.  You can't replace the love and support of a mother or father. 

I don't regret anything I've done in my life.  Sure, maybe there were things I would have done differently, but I'm sure there are things in your life that YOU would do differently too, right?  Losing both of my parents at such a young age gave me strength.  Right after my mother died, I truly believed that my life was no longer worth living (if that's not a clear sign of depression, then I don't know what is).  And I may have explored certain options (think hard enough and I'm sure you can figure out what those 'options' were), but when it came down to it, I just couldn't do it.  My father actually executed that option when I was 12 years old and no good came out of it.  I didn't want to follow that same path.  I'm so much stronger than that, but it took six long years for me to finally realize it. 

I'm trying to recover from all of this, but I know it's not going to happen over night.  I've thought about therapy, but I tried that years ago and it didn't help at all.  Or maybe I just didn't like my therapist.  But I tend to believe that if I can't solve my own problems, then who can?

And yes, maybe I should feel guilty complaining about what I'm suffering through considering those children in Haiti lost everything, but you know what?  To each his own.  Everyone is suffering from something, and regardless of how big or small it is, it's just as important as what the person next to you is going through.

the past has left its stain

now I feel the shame

I'll seize the day
if you take away
the chains of yesterday