Adjustments

Things are changing. Again. The feeling is just as pleasant as it usually is.

The events and situations causing the changes are good: I've been spending my weekends at the home of one of my best friend's and her family, and I've finally found work. Both of these things have an effect on my schedule and routines. Both of these things, because they are changes, cause me some stress. Stress is not always a bad thing.

One set of routines that has changed is my morning routine, which had grown to last until past noon. I woke up, got out of bed, made tea and breakfast, then spent hours reading my selected blogs — those blogs you see listed in the right-hand column. I comment on most of those blogs, too, which also takes a lot of time. And if I have comments on my blog post, I usually respond. That's a lot of time spent on blogs. Oh, and then there is the time I spend revisiting some of the sites to see what other visitors have said.

My first adjustment was that I didn't get online while I was at my friends' house, so I didn't visit my blogs on the weekend. Sometimes I'd catch up with one or two blogs on Sunday evenings, but that has become less frequent.

Next, I've been spending less time on blogs during the week. Today was my first (nearly) full day of work. I get to work at home, but I woke up later than planned and didn't have time to read blogs at all. Now that it's evening, I find myself uninterested in doing so. Perhaps I've become lazy.

I've also been reading books a lot more. I recently started borrowing ebooks from my library and reading them on my iPad. Because I read very quickly, and many of the books I want are available when I want them, I've managed to plow through a couple of writers' entire booklists and I'm working my way through a couple more. This reading has taken time and energy away from reading blogs.

Seesaw

It's been a bumpy winter. I've had phases of depression so deep I could barely say hello to my housemates and I've slept in until noon or 1 pm virtually every day. There was one day that was the worst I'e had since I checked myself into the hospital over two years ago. But as I am no longer in denial about how my untimely death would affect those who care about me, I am no longer in danger of blithely harming myself.

Then I've had days where I have noticed the sun was shining outside, days where I've spent time with good friends and I've smiled and laughed and felt all would be well. I am in such a mood today. Will it last? I don't know: I never expected the deep depression that has held me hostage for most of the last few months.

Being without work or income is hard on me. So is being dependent. And as much as I care for Griffin and Sabine, it is their house, not mine, and their ways are not my own. I am not made to be so quiet.

One of my best friends and her husband invited me to start spending weekends at their house. Inside their house are they, their teenage daughter, a dog, two cats, and a bunny. In their house are noise, cheesy horror movies, and laughter. They are my tribe. I think that having a break from G&S will be good for me and for them so we can live differently for 2-3 days a week.

When I was getting my hair cut yesterday, my stylist and I spent quite some time talking about what we want to do for a living and how we want to live. She and I want very similar things in how we live and work: flexibility, variety, and freedom. While I will continue to seek work in the high-tech industry, I'm doing so only to keep my net wide so I can find some work, but I've realized that I no longer care about the high-tech sector. I no longer want to document software or internet applications. I want to do something that matters more. And I think that doing something more useful and/or meaningful than documenting things that few people will use and fewer people will read about will make me happier in my life, even if it won't pay as well as writing said documentation.

From a Place of Fear

While lying in bed, trying to make myself get out of bed, I spent some time musing about why I am at such a low place in my life. I have less than $3000 in the bank. I still need to find work. I generally stay in bed until noon or 1. I take a shower about every 5 days or so (I often lose track). I haven't finished my initial read-through on my novel; I read over half of it about a week ago and haven't touched it since. I don't exercise. I don't go for walks. My diet is crap.

Why? I, who have done so many different things in my life and who have made major changes and gone on to success, am stuck and passive. I am afraid. It all comes down to fear.

Detailing each individual fear connected to each individual lack is no longer useful: I believe it's all fused into one solid, darkly shining ball of fear and either it has overwhelmed me past my ability to cope or I have surrendered to it or both. Even that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that virtually everything I do comes from or passes through a place of fear; fear controls me.

Inside, I want someone to save me. I want someone to take my hand and lead me out of bed early in the morning, lead me through exercise, make sure I eat fruit and vegetables, sit with me while I go through my novel, help me look for work (actually, I want someone to either hand me a job or tell me exactly the right work I should be doing right now), and make sure I go to bed early enough at night.

I don't think I've ever been this passive before in my life, no matter what trials and traumas I've faced. I feel ashamed.

I want to be active. I want to be in control of my own life. I want to make my choices from a positive place. I want to be strong and happy and healthy. I want abundance in all good things. I want to have enough money for all that I need and want, including enough so I can live on my own again, independently and comfortably. This doesn't seem like too much to want.

Change: Life Reboot

Ah, Change, how I love thee! {insert hysterical laughter here}

For all my life I have resisted change. Except that I went back to school when I was 26 to change careers. Except that I sold my house and moved to the Oregon Coast when the dot-com market crashed. Except that I sold most of my stuff and drove off into the wild blue yonder to try my fortunes elsewhere. Except that I tossed it all up in the air again and moved back to Seattle.

Yeah, I haven't loved change, but I have been willing to make major changes when my life has come to a halt on its current track. But my last two major moves seemed to leave me limp and limbless, unable to continue making changes to move my life forward into a new path. So I'm stuck still, geographically changed but not changed in habit or expectation or behavior. Now what?

My friend Mary Stella recently wrote on her blog about doing a "life reboot" that encompassed all the changes she made before, during, and since her bariatric surgery. Her life has changed so completely, and she is happier and healthier than she's been in a long time. My friend Deb has made similarly major changes in her own life over the years, and is leading a productive, happy, healthy life and has finally broken into the fiction market as she's wanted to for some time. Both of these women awe and inspire me. They also support me and cheer me on and remind me that these major changes are built upon smaller and incremental changes: they did not all happen in one fell swoop.

One of my continuing problems has been that I want change to happen in one fell swoop. I moved to Seattle: I should have had a great job within just a few months! I've been in therapy and on meds for some time, and have made major changes in the meds this year: I should be fully functional, happy, and healthy! I've come to have little patience with small, incremental change. I'm tired of waiting. I want results NOW!

Sigh. Yeah, I know. So probably the first small change I need to make, the one upon which to build all the rest of them, is to change my attitude and perspective. I need to accept that I need to start small, partly because I've dropped so low in mood and functionality. I need to accept that big changes — other than the relatively simple ones of selling your stuff and moving hundreds of miles — take time and effort. Dramatic breakthroughs, sudden success — they rarely happen.

I was talking with an acquaintance/casual friend (friend of my housemates) the other day and suddenly realized I've become That Person: the one who has a reason why every suggestion you make won't work for them. I was appalled at myself. I've never before been That Person. That Person has always driven me crazy. But I've become her and I intend to stop being her Right Now.

To really drive home to myself how not to be That Person, I'm going to consider every single thing other people suggest. I may not pursue everything, but I'm at least going to take in and consider everything and if I decide something is not for me, I'm going to have a much better reason than "that won't work for me." ::shudder::

I know from the past several posts I must seem like I'm bouncing on the end of a bungee cord. It feels that way to me (although a really slow one because this most recent bounce downward has been long and a real doozy). But I'm back on the change trek. I don't know if it will do any good for others to remind me of previous posts or any other positive things I've said or experienced, but feel free if you like. At worst, all I can say is "nope, that won't work for me."  :grin:: Or not.

So, off we go again. One, two, three … CTRL+ALT+DELETE!

Write a Memoir? Me?

Yesterday at brunch, a good friend suggested I write a memoir about all the changes I've made in my life (and some that were made for me). She said that most people don't and won't make the large changes I've made (moving places without knowing what I was going to do once I got there, moving without knowing where I was moving to) and don't take the risks I've taken. The idea sounded crazy to me, but she was persuasive, so the idea has been rattling around in my mind like a marble in a can.

But how interesting would it be? I don't even have an "and I've been so successful, have done so many wonderful things, have a job I love, etc., etc., etc.," ending for the memoir. All I can imagine is someone reading this story and saying "See? You take all those risks and end up living in a bedroom in someone else's house while all your stuff is in storage and your bank account is starting to sound like a sucking chest wound." I mean, I can always hope that by the time I came to the end of the story I'd actually have some sort of success story to end with.

One good thing I can think of that could come out of writing it is that I'd have to take a step back and look at my life differently. I'd have to own some part of being brave enough to do these things. I'd have to own up to being strong enough to get through my mother's death and aftermath. I'd have to see my life as something more than the train wreck I currently think it is.

But could I? Isn't my life rather a train wreck?

Unlike people like The Bloggess, I don't write a public blog. I don't want to share the details that I share with you with the whole world, in part because I don't want potential clients and employers to see this side of me. I don't think I'd get hired if they did.

A memoir would be different from this blog. This blog is about journaling and processing and therapy. It's uncensored, stream-of-consciousness writing with very little editing. It's long and rambling and sometimes barely has a point. A memoir would have to be different.

So the marble is rolling around and around in the empty tin can that is my mind. I may put some words on paper to see if anything happens. I'm open to suggestions and feedback. Do any of you really think the past 12–15 years of my life are memoir-worthy? (I moved from Seattle to the Oregon Coast in 2001, which is why I'm going back that far.)

Baby Steps, 1

Per a suggestion by Susanne, a regular reader and commenter on my blog, I am posting what steps I made on a daily basis for a little bit, to be interspersed with blogs of a heftier sort if and when necessary.

As I am also trying to think less and do more, I am going to try to focus on the action and the functional rather than the what and why. Sometimes I feel like a self-centered brat, always moaning and going on about my problems. But when I presented this perspective a some friends last night, one of them has already responded with a totally different perspective of me as one who is brave and committed to healing and willing to face and talk about my crap and stuff. She doesn't see me the same why I've been seeing me, not even close. That actually makes me feel better.

So, without further ado, I present yesterday's baby steps.

1. Took a short walk with Sabine. It was around the center circle of the neighborhood, so it wasn't that long but the way back required climbing a pretty good hill for about half the walk. It took 10+ minutes and we were both out of breath (oh so horribly out of shape!).
2. Assembled steel-cut oats for slow-cooking to be eaten this morning. (Unfortunately, Griffin didn't turn it on last night and I'm not sure how quickly they will cook on high this morning.)
3. Turned off computer by 9. Didn't start surfing or Pinterest in iPad. Used it for music and found that my good earbuds fit, which made me ecstatic. My good earbuds are Ultimate Ears, which I got 6 years ago, when I bought my MacBook and my iRiver Clix2 mp3 player. Both player and earbuds were most highly rated for sound quality and usability and they rock. Plugging my earbuds into the iPad after having downloaded all my music to it, then listening to the music and hear the full range of sounds, from subtle based to solid midtones and crystal clear high notes just blissed me out as I listened to the end of a playlist before bed.
4. Took a melatonin supplement and got into bed by midnight. Might have made the sleep window but reflux/acidic stomach interfered and I eventually took the 2nd pill. I'm feeling groggy this morning (but then, sleep was still broken and I got 5 1/2 hours of sleep total, but the potential is there). So I tried and will continue trying on that front.

So that's the scoop for yesterday. Tonight I am scheduled to attend a professional meeting (networking, dinner, presentation, more networking). I will NOT allow myself to skip out on it just because I "don't feel like it." Not this time. I am sick of being unemployed (or underemployed) and living in my friends' house in a bedroom. I need my own place. Now. And I need to get out on my own more.

I'm glad I accomplished what I did. I'm disappointed in that it was little. I got very little sleep the night before and didn't get ready very early. More like in the afternoon. Then there was little time to do things. Today I was up a little earlier but as mentioned before am quite groggy (on melatonin but insufficient sleep perhaps?) and my breakfast isn't ready so I'm a bit cranky. While I'm trying to avoid naps in order to be more ready to sleep, today I may make an exception just so I'll be bright-eyed and bush-tailed for the meeting tonight.

That's the news so far today. Thanks, Susanne. This is a great way to keep track and take note.

That's it for

Turn Around and Walk Forward

Caution: A long post with complex sentence structure, complicated punctuation, and many, many different metaphors. Not for the faint-hearted.

The best path isn't always the straightest

That's my motto for the year. The last post was all about traumas of the past and how they have affected me and my life. Within the gentle and supportive comments ran a particular thread: perhaps I need to simply accept my past and look to the present and future.

This is not the first time this concept has been suggested to me. A previous therapist became quite frustrated with me for continuing to talk about the past. A couple of friends have suggested that I cling to the past — suggested with increasing frustration and decreasing gentleness. I appreciate the gentle directness of my commenters.

It's true: I do cling to and look to the past. When I was talking to my therapist on Tuesday of this week, I had this vivid flash of me walking backward, taking my cues on which way to turn from what I saw before my eyes. That way leads to missteps and even falling off cliffs. It was a powerful and stirring image. I resolved right then to turn around and use my present, and my visions and desires, to guide me into the future.

Of course, I asked Michele her opinion of, well, everything. What I said in the blog. The idea that I cling to and pay too much attention to the past. Some other stuff. It frustrated me that she didn't respond directly and completely refrained from answering my questions. I'm probably going to push her on that next week.

However, it is ultimately me who has the choice and power to turn around and move forward. I chose the term "walk forward" to indicate activity; I have been almost completely motionless since Mom died, and that was almost three and a half years ago; I wonder how many years that has taken off my life? So "walk forward" tells me to move my body and to participate in my life much more actively than I have been. "Look forward" would have been way too passive.

Solstice Epiphanies

Last night Griffin and I talked about the sleep problem I’ve had for some time. Basically, I average 4.5 to 5 hours of sleep a night. Not only is it bad for me in general, it’s particularly bad for the fibro. Unfortunately, this is a habit I settled into after Mom died, or maybe just after I returned to Houston. I had developed the habit previously off and on over a few years prior to that, but never quite as extreme as this and not for as long an ongoing period.

Griffin suggested I keep a diary. He suggested I note when I go to bed, what time I wake during the night, what time I return to trying to sleep, and my feelings at the time — I think he meant my feelings as I try to return to sleep, but I think I should do so when I first get ready to go to sleep, and maybe when I first wake, if appropriate. To this list I’m adding a) what plans I have for the next day and what time those plans are for, and b) any events of note that occurred during the day, especially the evening.

I went to bed at midnight. I woke at after 6 a.m. to go pee. Then I sat in bed and journaled, and the rest of this post came from that journal entry. I made some important realizations and am going to write up the appropriate ones into thank-you cards for Griffin and Sabine, each. The following is the majority of the entry, edited for clarity.

***

6:20 a.m.  12-21-13  YULE! SOLSTICE!

Realized earlier that I didn’t do much for a long time [after I moved to Seattle] because I was healing. I’d wanted to just be cared for during all those months and years after Mom’s death — was so tired and drained and hurting and scared for all that time. So I got here and [Griffin and Sabine] took care of me. I may have needed care for longer than we all expected, but I am finally coming out of this mental and emotional space and doing chores around the house. Griffin being temporarily less able spurred me.

I am feeling more healed, I realized. Something that was clenched inside of me has loosened. I still have a lot to work on, but maybe I am now better able to not only work more effectively but recognize my progress.

Power, Protection, and Progress

So. Therapy today was powerful. We talked about a major theme in my life: power and powerlessness, authenticity and invisibility. I came away with my mind spinning, feeling full to the brim, and feeling good. I even turned off my radio so my mind could keep resonating with what we talked about and when I got home I wrote the important bits down so I'd remember them.

It started off with me talking about the TED Talk by Amy Cuddy about body language and using it to change your own perceptions and feelings and behaviors. About the "Wonder Woman pose" that the media has played up and how to use it. (And I have used it, and Amy's other suggestions, and they seem to actually work.)

From there we went into how I diminish my own strengths and talents and accomplishments, and why I do so. I tend to have "don't look at me, I'm no threat" submissive and powerless postures: head or eyes down, shoulders hunched, arms and legs drawn in. I have often thought that I don't deserve as much space as other people, as much air as other people.

Then we went to why. Mostly self-protection, plus a lot of being squashed so much I've just given in and stayed squashed most of the time. Because of being molested, and from such a young age. Because my parents were always telling me "don't show off" (my intelligence and vocabulary), "don't brag," even while encouraging my little brother to show what an exceptional athlete he was and revolving our lives (mine included) around his sports. Because at a job I stayed at for six years (four years longer than I should have), my boss and co-workers treated me worse and worse the more authentically I lived my life and the more I threatened their world view: I both worked AND wrote (and published a story); I took a month off and went to Britain; I took six weeks off and attended a full-time writers' workshop (that you have to apply and compete for). Some people can be downright hostile if you do what they have told themselves they cannot do because that is How Things Are.

I have often in my life felt that The Universe hates me. It has seemed as if, just when my life was going particularly well, the Universe has reached out and slammed me, with moving when I was 16, with the deaths of my father and my brother and my mother, and with other things. And that has happened a lot, but there are times when I've been slammed while things were going very badly, and I'm sure there have been times when things have been going well and I haven't been slammed (I just have to remember them!).

Bedtime

When I was a child, bedtime was a pleasure I looked forward to. When it was time to go to bed, I went happily, looking forward to resting and dreaming. Even though I was prone to nightmares and night terrors that my parents didn't even know about, I still had more good dreams than bad and I looked forward to each new day.

Fast forward a few decades. The summer of 2007, I wasn't working and it was one of the most glorious summers ever on the Oregon Coast. Temperatures ranged from 75 to 85 most days, with sun and a bit of a breeze and I spent almost every day walking down the hill to the beach, walking up and down the beach, including into the breakers, and then walking back up the beach. I was in good condition, I was losing weight, and I was actually enjoying myself, but I wasn't going to bed until between 2 and 3 am every night. This was highly unusual for me: I hadn't pulled all-nighters or even super-late-nighters in college!

That summer, I was staying awake late because I had created an enormously detailed imaginary life and I stayed up every night into the wee hours living and creating that life. The people sharing that life with me were so real, with complete life histories and backstories. It was beautiful. Every night I would turn off all the lights in the house, turn on some music, light some candles all over my bedroom, and watch the moon wash across my bed and the floor in the room outside my door. And I would dream.

This imaginary life bothered my therapist. She was afraid I was hiding from reality within it. It wasn't until a conversation in mid-summer that she suddenly said "I get it now! Your mind needs to be occupied and it's so unused right now that you need to do something with it." And that was, in great part, why I stayed up late every night dreaming. Once I went back to doing some work and thinking about what I wanted to do next, the imaginary life just melted away.

Fast forward another few years. I've returned to Houston after getting things moving with my mom's estate. I'm miserable: lost, rudderless, and more alone than I've ever been in my life. My closest friend in Houston was rearranging things in his life, in particular his marriage, and he no longer made time to do things with me other than a few days in the Spring to go photograph birds and the occasional lunch. I spent my time — all day, every day — surfing the web. I stayed up far into the night more often than not, not because I had an imaginary life I loved but because I had a real life I despaired of and I stayed up late to put off having to begin another new day.

The Powers of Choice

Had a therapy-by-phone session with my therapist this week and the main topic was "choice". I acknowledged that I have been choosing avoidance, distraction, and motionlessness rather than living fully, actively, and with purpose. I have been choosing naps over doing the things I need — and want! — to do.

Choice has many powers. Making a choice is powerful because it is an action and action is powerful. But when you make choice to be passive and powerless, that too is powerful because it increases the passivity and powerlessness, as well as any mental health issues associated with them, such as depression and anxiety such as I have. So I am in effect choosing to give my power over to oppression.

I truly do want to be more active and doing the things on my list and that I need and want to do: I can feel it! I feel urges toward movement and activity; I feel desires to walk and do exercises. But I squash them with the choices I make away from them. It's like choosing to kill the better part of yourself. I feel as if I've been killing the better part of myself for decades, now that I acknowledge that I have had choices. But for a long time, I didn't realize I could choose or that I had options. I felt powerless against my feelings. Now I know differently.

But changing the choices I make is not as easy as snapping my fingers and saying "Hey! I can make different choices!" It's going to require effort on my part due to the inertia involved and the habit involved and the weight of many years of making the other choices. I keep making the mistake of thinking that making changes will be easy, causing me to fall prey to falling back into what is easy. I haven't yet embraced the feeling of power that comes with doing what is difficult yet right.

I think I need to return to using contingent activities and rewards. I have better rewards now! I have a whole library of books to choose from here at the house (inhabited by two book-lovers, one of whom is a librarian). I have a niece and nephew who want to spend time with me and do the things I want to do as I re-explore Seattle and surroundings and re-experience my favorite things. I also need to again enlist select friends to nudge me along my way to making the habit of choosing the better options.

And I need to work some more on my thinking. I have my rubber band to remind me to think of the cognitive-behavioral tools I have (my housemate left me one in the bathroom we share the morning after he read my blog!). My therapist and I decided that the next major step in my therapy would probably be working on "growing up": i.e., self-actualization, letting go of the need for parental approval and validation (especially given that my last remaining one is now gone), strengthening my sense of self, however you want to define it. It's a process I haven't finished and I need to in order to be a fully functioning adult human. So time to dig in and find my next therapist. I now have a few names offered to me by my former practitioner in this area; next week will involve calling them and seeing if any are taking new patients. (I've heard that finding a mental health practitioner in this area is very difficult these days; must be a whole lot of over-stressed and "crazy" people around here; I blame the coffee!)

So making choices seems to be my next step, and one that I very strongly want to take. I can't wait for the blog post where I tell you all about how well it is going!

Victim Thinking

One of my more persistent issues is that of victim thinking. When  that is the way I am thinking, I feel powerless and hopeless. For example, when I feel tired, I generally don't do anything, feeling "too tired to do anything" and like my only option is to give up and do nothing. Or when I am approaching a problem or a project in a certain way and it's not working for me, I feel like I have no other options. Victim thinking makes me feel like I have no choices.

My therapist can basically tell when I'm caught in victim thinking just by my body posture and my voice. (Yeah, not going to take up professional poker any time soon.) Then we talk about how there are other ways to approach a situation differently, that I do have choices and options other than what I feel stuck with. That's powerful, active thinking. It's definitely the kind of thinking that uses the cognitive therapy techniques I've been working on.

The problem is that I've engaged in victim thinking for such a long time that it tends to be my default way of thinking and I still too-easily forget my cognitive techniques. One reason why I still need a therapist: to help me remember to use these techniques and to detect when I am engaged in victim thinking.

I've been caught up in victim thinking for a while since I've been in Seattle. I've grown more and more tired and sleepy since arriving here, so I sleep and don't accomplish the things on my to-do list. I haven't started looking for work and I've been here for a month and a half! I've been feeling unwell off and on and my fibromyalgia has flared up. So I've been thinking things like "I'm too tired to start an online job search right now; I'll take a nap first" and "I don't feel well enough to take a walk" and "My body hurts; I'll unpack later." So I haven't unpacked or started job searches or taken many walks. Then I feel stuck and tired and overwhelmed and ashamed, which thoughts just tend to spiral in on themselves.

I do have moments of powerful thinking. I wrote about them in my last post. I know what to do, what I need to do, what I want to do. But I let my old pattern of victim thinking and non-activity rule me, thus I don't do these things. This is not how to create the life I want. This is not how to be happy and contented.

I need to continually remind myself to check in on my thinking and self-talk. To do this, I need to have an easy way to remind myself. Wearing a rubber band on my wrist has worked in the past; I don't even need to snap it to encourage behavior/thinking modification. Just wearing it works. But I'm not sure where the ones I had back in Houston are right now. Of course, if I unpacked a few things, I might find them. Or I could ask my housemates if they have any large, wide rubber bands (I like them to be a little bit loose). *grin*

Stuck to Unstuck? My New Journey

Oh, how badly I've been stuck. I've been exhausted. My brain has felt clogged and slow. I've taken naps for hours almost every day. I have done virtually nothing to further my plans or contribute to the household. I have been a lump since arriving in Seattle.

Luckily for me, my hosts have been very understanding of my exhaustion and have asked little of me so far. Friends have supported my need for sleep and rest. It's just been me who has had higher expectations.

I have a comprehensive list of things I need to do: catch up with people online and over the phone; contact professional connections; get in touch with local contracting agencies; join professional organizations and meetups and attend meetings and events; unpack what I brought to the house; and begin revising my novel.

I don't expect myself to do everything every day or all at once. I have date ranges for everything in my list. Of course, I'm behind on probably half the list so far. But maybe that's due to my unreasonable expectations in the face of unexpected setbacks. Like needing to sleep all the time.

I have a long history of overindulging myself. In response to what seemed to me a lifetime of excessive and unreasonable expectations and a lack of understanding of my needs, I began to allow myself to slack off on things, which started small and gradually grew to encompass everything in my life.

Well, I've completely changed my life again and this, too, must change. There are things I want to do and things I need to do and blowing them off is not acceptable to me any longer. Blowing off these things does not lead to the life I want to live. And that's the important point: there is a life I want to live and I have to put in the time and effort to create it. Always before, I've waited for it to happen. No more.

When I was younger, I pursued my life more actively, so I know I can do it. There are many things I did and was when I was younger: I cleaned frequently and regularly; I wrote and drew and painted on virtually a daily basis; I did physical activities that I enjoyed; and I didn't dwell on my mostly solitary state. And I daydreamed. I played. I imagined. Those are important things in anybody's life, but particularly in the life of a creative person.

So I'm going to relearn old good habits and discard current bad ones. I'm going to be healthier in ways that I can enjoy. I'm going to rediscover my true self and let her out of the various boxes and closets where I've hidden her and all her wonderful, brilliant aspects. I'm going to love for love's sake, I'm going to love and value myself, and I'm going to live a full and rich life for as long as I possibly can.

Catching Up

Movement and power

It's been a while since I blogged, I know. I just haven't felt like blogging and haven't had much in mind other than moving. I even run out of things to say in therapy that aren't about moving. But my therapist, brilliant as she is, can tease knowledge and learning out of any aspect of my life.

For example, for several weeks, I went in to therapy feeling overwhelmed and stuck, not getting much done and not feeling as if I could get anything done. My therapist pointed out I was feeling like a victim of my feelings and my circumstance and feeling powerless. That I needed to remember I had other options for how to feel and what to do, that I indeed had power over my situation and myself. Then I started to accomplish a few things, and that started me feeling more powerful and like I could get even more done.

My friend Deb has taken on the task of "nudging" me daily to see what I plan to do and what I've done. I seldom do everything on my list, and I continue to take naps that disrupt my day and my flow of activity, but I am accomplishing things and Deb's nudging helps a great deal.

I had my organizer back to help me organize things for the move: pack a few things, sort a lot of things, and get rid of a lot of things to charity. That helped me so much that I can now see how my friend Sierra and I will be able to pack the whole place when she gets here this week to help me (yay!). And I still have things to take to donate; I don't want to take the time to try to sell them. At this point, I'll just wait until Sierra can help me.

Another Year

Well, another year has passed and I have to ask myself: what have I accomplished and how have I changed in the past year? 

In some ways the answers are easy. I turned a corner in my grief/depression/therapy and began to mend. I met therapeutic goals. I decreased medications. I became happier and healthier. I began to exercise. I wrote a novel! And I made the choice to move back to Seattle, foregoing sunshine and heat for close, long-term friendships.

In other ways, it's not so easy to see changes. Once I decided to move, I was finally offered a full-time job here. Instead, I am back on the networking and job-hunting wheel. That leads me to feeling stressed. Or rather, it triggers my fears and insecurities that then cause me to feel anxious and stressed, afraid that I won't be able to find work, that I will run out of money, etc. Which are the feelings I've been living with for much of the past four years.

But I will not allow them to control me any longer. I know I will find a great job in Seattle, sooner rather than later. I know I will find a great place to live that is affordable and has all that I want and need, including parking space and being within walking distance of a dependable and useful bus line. I know that I will be able to bus to work easily and painlessly. And I know that I will be able to cope with the weather up there because I have my light box, I am much further along in my journey to happiness than I was when I left, and because my friends and I have committed to spending time with each other. Much is different now, twelve years later.

I still have a lot to do. I need to practice my cognitive skills more because I'm still getting caught up in my irrational thoughts. I need to continue on my quest for a healthier lifestyle, which includes cooking real food and getting aerobic exercise frequently and regularly. And I need to get back to my creative work and revise my novel and return to drawing and painting.

Where I Am

Well, it's a new year. People are making new resolutions or goals or intentions. We have to remember to write a new year on our checks and letters. And my mind is still back six or seven months and I'm wondering how it got to be 2013 so fast.

Last year was a better year than the year before, even though I had less employment. I made a huge amount of progress mentally and emotionally and I began exercising regularly. This bodes well for 2013. 

I'm becoming better at making new habits and sticking with them, except when holidays get in the way. And I doubt I'm going anywhere for a long trip this year until Christmas (unless I'm in Seattle, then I'll take a trip elsewhere). It's being out of my own environment that makes it harder to keep up with the exercising. I don't have the same space set up and I want to spend lots of time with my hosts, so I don't generally do exercise while away. But with even more time before the next major trip, maybe I'll have the exercise thing so efficient that I can do it anywhere!

I am more content with myself and where I am. Even though there are still some areas of clutter and I'm not terribly fond of my apartment, I am grounded, centered, and at home. I am becoming more myself and am very much less self-conscious. Even though I am anxious about finding work and making money, I'm still aware that I've come very far and that where I am now internally is fabulous. Where I am externally is acceptable; I'm not sure if I will find a fabulous external, but acceptable is fine. I believe that when I am doing work I enjoy with people I enjoy working with, my external will ramp up to much better than acceptable.

I have terrific tools now to help me deal with life and my issues and I'm getting quite good at using them. I have a terrific therapist (who I would be sorry to leave). I am learning important life skills (finally) and it's all paying off. Hell, I have a whole pint of Haagen Dazs ice cream in the freezer that I bought on the way home from lunch and haven't dug into yet. I'm not hungry, and in the past, that wouldn't have stopped me. I've made progress on all fronts (except my fear of driving in ice and snow).

As my t-shirt says, "Life is Good." In 2013, it's just going to get better.

Where are you now?

The Hard Ones

Nope, this post is not by Tawna Fenske and I haven't taken to writing innuendo on my blog (although if I had her mind and her talent I totally would).

This post is about the hard decisions and how to make them. It's specifically about one decision that has come to completely occupy my mind.

I've become more and more compelled lately to consider whether to stay in Houston or move back to Seattle. There are so many things to consider and the two places are so different that trying to decide how to decide has been making me crazy. So I brought it up in therapy today.

I've been considering this decision casually for much of the year, but wasn't serious because my therapy and my therapist have been too important to me to let go. But as I have begun meeting goals and getting increasingly more healthy, the decision has begun to take on weight.

One of what I consider the downsides to being single is when I have to or choose to make big decisions. I like being able to choose a paint color for a room on my own, but it would be nice to have someone to share in the big decisions, someone who had a stake in the decision, someone to bounce ideas back and forth with, and someone for backup. A decision like where to live is huge and hard to make on my own. So I think it will be a topic of conversation in therapy, as well as how to make big decisions in general, for the next several sessions (which won't start again until January).

Just to start with, my therapist proposed I start thinking about what nourishes me most. Is it sunlight and warmth, or is it relationships? Can I adapt to the cold and dark again to be close to good friends, or can I live with the possibility of not having such close friends where I live yet can grow citrus trees in my backyard, when I get a backyard? Either place I live, I will need more friends and will have to approach finding them intentionally. I do have some good friends up north, but they cannot do it all for me; I'll need a few more to meet my socialization needs, but the ones I find in the north can be more casual types of friends while down here in Houston I'd still be looking for close friends with whom I can spend significant time together.

I think I've had a bit more focused anxiety worrying over wanting to make this decision. I have a stomach ache and have had one since we started talking about it in therapy. But I need to remind myself of what my therapist said at the end of the session. Whichever place I choose, I'll be able to adapt and be happy. I have developed my center within myself, and contentment with myself outside of what my environment is like. So this decision isn't a matter of which place is the "right" place for me; neither is a right decision or a wrong decision. 

Whichever place I choose to live in, I will be fine and content. I will be at home.

Trapeze

Therapy was good today. Why was it so good? We went surprising places. And going to surprising places is what brings me further along on my journey.

At first we talked about my last blog post, about feeling that I'm home now. She said she thought it sounded like someone who was content with herself and where she was. Content. That is a place where a person could experience the highs and lows of life, all the happys and the sads, and still know that she is fine. Content is where a person could know she will get through the bad times and appreciate the good times for as long as they last.

Then I told her what I was thinking of writing about today: how I feel weird feeling so good, how I don't trust it, how I'm more than a little bit afraid of it. That's what connected content with surprising places. Because how and why would any person be afraid of feeling good, of feeling happy?

Well, it comes from learning experiences. Several times in my life, just when things were getting better after having been difficult, or when things were going very, very well, I have been hit by a major trauma: my father died, my brother died, my mother was diagnosed with metastasized lung cancer. There have been others, but these were, of course, the worst. My therapist said that post-trauma personalities are always prepared for the worst to happen because they know not only that it could happen but that it will happen. So how can I trust the good feelings won't just blow up into something horrible again?

In addition, there's the fact that I have struggled with anxiety and/or depression for most of my life. As I discussed in an earlier post, I have been having to work on not identifying myself with the depression or with the anxiety. But for a long time, they did become part of my identity, so this feeling good, this happiness, is something new and different (especially from the past couple of years) and it is unfamiliar.

Being Home

It's funny, calling this apartment home. It has just been "the apartment" rather than "my home" for most of the time I've lived here. But somehow it's changed.  The change isn't just the framed doily on the wall. After all, there is still clutter I have to deal with all over (yes, my organizer would be a little disappointed, but it's not too bad). There are still 3 plastic totes that I need to sort through and organize. 

The apartment is still beige, except for the doily and the large photo of a yellow hibiscus a good friend gave to me a few years ago and the three smaller photos of purple flowers my BFF gave to my mom when she was sick.

My sofa is still black leather with no slipcover, but my Ikea chair is now in unbleached cotton rather than black. And I have to wash the unbleached ottoman cover because I use it as a table and it's a trifle used-looking.

The Oregon Coast isn't home anymore. That's kind of weird, too, except that neither I nor my mother live there anymore. So it's a place I love where some friends of mine live. Seattle, oddly enough, is still home, as much as I was glad to leave it over a decade ago. That's probably because people I love live there, people who I deem family and who have me there for Christmas and who I've known for a very long time. And because enough time has passed that the dislike I built up toward the city has dissipated. I don't know when that happened.

As much as I enjoyed staying with my friends for Thanksgiving and as comfortable as I was there, I am very glad to be back to my own space. This was not always the case. I mean, here I am alone with no one to play with. (My Houston friends are completely different from my Dallas friends and my Seattle friends.) I'm in an apartment that until recently did not feel like home. But now I feel I am home and I don't feel lonely: I am a text or an IM or a phone call away from many people.

Following Through

It was a good therapy session today. My therapist detailed the ways in which I've improved from last year and even from a few months ago. The main thing she pointed out was that not only do I have ideas and plans, I actually follow through with them.

The thing is, this isn't just different from last year or even the year before when I was completely paralyzed with grief. Following through on intentions is something I haven't been doing reliably for years due to the depression and anxiety and the bad habits I developed (or the good ones I lost).

For example: I do a set of exercises and stretches every morning. Every. Morning. Even when I don't feel like it. I let myself skip the Saturday before last, but last Saturday I decided that taking a day off from my exercises wasn't doing me any favors, nor was it getting me closer to my goal of fitting into my "fat" Levis by the time I go to Seattle for the holidays. (I have to lose weight to fit into them. I have two other pair that are smaller than those.) So I didn't skip. I can't remember when I last performed exercises on a regular basis, much less an every-day basis. And I'm not even giving into to the "I don't feel like it"-itis that has been my typical behavior for years.

Other examples of my following through include my job hunting activity (applied for two jobs just this morning), and the activities I have to do in order to do a desired activity — my reward/contingency tasks.

I've still got a lot of work to do. I need to develop a habit of eating healthy (that's for November), but I refrained from buying any sweets today (including the fresh-baked pumpkin pie ... sigh) and I'm full from a late lunch so every time my mouth prompts me to get up and go find something to eat in the kitchen, I turn myself around (might as well get up off the couch and move a little) and walk back into the living room. No eating if I'm not hungry and give my sugar cravings time to die off.

I need to develop the habit of paying my bills on time. I need to clean off my desk so I can actually do work at it. And I need to start doing cardio exercises (that's December's habit to learn, even though I'm going to be out of town for several days).

Even though I still have much to do and change, I know I'll get it done. Why? Because I'm developing the most important habit of all, the habit of follow-through. And with that habit settling into my bones again, I know I can do anything.