Imagine a combination rollercoaster + bumper cars ride. In the dark. Also, I hate cancer.

I’m tired.

And probably (huge surprise) depressed.

And sad.

And overwhelmed.

And relieved.

And pissed-off.

And probably some other stuff that I’m not ready to acknowledge and/or say out loud.

Anyway.

The past few weeks have been, ummmm, hard a fucking nightmare interrupted by a few moments of absolute joy.

Imagine an amusement park ride that is a combination of a scary/rickety wooden rollercoaster (up, up, up, (has this thing been inspected recently?) straight down! around to the right! around to the…no straight down again! and, what? now up?) and bumper cars (oh, tra la la, this is fun, OUCH where did that come from?  motherfucker…)

Now imagine that you are on this ride in total darkness.

It’s been like that.  Only worse.

And better.

It’s a mixed bag, really.  But mostly worse.

I can’t recount all of the details of the bizarre twists and turns and major life changes that have taken place recently (well, I could, but that would be a book, not a blog post) but here is where things stand right this very minute (I know from experience that this could change at any moment…)

1.  Mom is done fighting this ovarian/brain cancer with chemicals.  Two and a half years after her diagnosis, major surgery, c.diff. (horrible horrible illness),  three different types of chemotherapy,  brain surgery, gamma-knife radiation treatment and a clinical trial, Mom finally reached a point where the (mostly imaginary, it turns out) benefits of the “treatments” were greatly outweighed by the negative impact these treatments had on her quality of life. 

2.  We just wrapped our minds around the fact that ovarian cancer, in the form of abdominal tumors, would probably take my Mom’s life (VERY PREMATURELY, DAMMIT!) and then WHAM! the MRI shows us that Mom’s brain tumors are (a) increasing in number and (b) are “very angry….” and the angry ones are not accessible for treatment without destroying a lot of other brain stuff.  SO.  Now we are trying to wrap our minds around the fact that her death is probably more imminent than we had imagined and that it is more likely to be a result of the brain tumors than the ovarian/abdominal tumors.  (Note: It’s all ovarian cancer, even in the brain.)

3.  FUCK YOU, CANCER.

4.  My brother and his wife (who we adore) are EXPECTING A BABY!  (This is one of the “joy” things I mentioned above…)  Oh the happy, happy, happy!  And the sad.  But mostly the happy.  And the surprise?  WHAM!

5.  Sometimes even in the middle of depression and doom and gloom and resentment and awfulness I somehow find some “light” inside and become Ms. Positive “Carpe Diem” Woman.  I know this may come as a shock to you, it is to me also.  Anyhoo, it happened right after we got the ridiculously bad news re: the brain tumors followed by the awesome news re: the baby.  I decided that we had to celebrate being done with going to the hospital every week and feeling like slaves to the medicine and that Mom needed to not even think about packing up and moving right now — she needed to just fucking GO do the things that mean the most to her.  Go visit my sister and family in Tampa, go visit her Aunt in California, go stay at her beloved home in Puerto Morelos, Mexico and see all of her great friends there. 

So we decided she isn’t just visiting people, she is embarking on a World Domination Tour.

Mom:  “Well, “World Domination Tour” isn’t a very accurate description.”

Me:  “Who says it isn’t an accurate description?   You get to decide that.”

Mom:  “Good point!”

** also, sometimes she gets tongue-tied and says “World Demolition Tour” — which is also awesome.

And then we had a Bollywood themed World Domination Tour Kick-Off Party!

And it was amazing.  So much silly and fun and LOVE and dancing.  More joy.

[Yes, sideways pictures are the latest in blog technology….fucking WordPress…]

6.  So, Mom left for Tampa yesterday and is now enjoying the first leg of her World Domination/Demolition Tour!

7.  I’m still reeling from it all.  Even after all of the “OMG if I have to spend one more minute with my Mom I’m going to lose it!” I had a really hard time putting her on a plane and letting her go to be taken care of by someone other than me.  Heavy sigh. I’m so contradictory.   There was intense bawling in the airport and in the parking lot and back at home.  Now I’m sitting in our house wondering how I will ever get everything packed and moved by the end of the month.  Except that I know I will.

8.  And I saw my THERAPIST on Monday — for two whole hours.  It was probably the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.  And it was wonderful because my therapist is a woman I’ve worked with, on and off (mostly “off” in the last few years, obviously…), for over 10 years, so I didn’t have to recreate the entire crazy-wheel. 

9.  And she gave me information about a little retreat center in the mountains that is (a) totally isolated — no TV, no internet, (b) lovely and (c) super-inexpensive, and I called and I am going there TODAY.  I’m giving myself a silent retreat to mark the ending of one thing and the beginning of the next thing.  Yay me!

10.  Oh, after the god-awful news + the great baby news, we went to see my awesome son at college.  He is sad/happy and having a great time in college.  Here he is with his one and only sweet Bubba.  Joy.

[Don’t hate me because of my technical skills.  Just pick up your damn computer and turn it!]

Heading up the mountain now!  Big love to everyone and thanks for the comments.  You keep me sane and laughing.  Mostly laughing… 🙂

xoxo,

kim

I can’t write on account of the Mass of Dark Matter surrounding me. Here’s proof.

Here is the situation:

I CAN’T WRITE.

I CANNOT WRITE.

I AM NOT ABLE TO WRITE.

I’M UNABLE TO WRITE

NO CAN WRITE.

FUCK WRITING.

I don’t know what is wrong.

I don’t think it is “just” writer’s block.

(as if anyone would ever call that cavernous depth of hell “just” writer’s block, hello….)

It’s more.

There’s a large mass of dark matter surrounding me and I guess I’m going to have to fucking interact with it if I’m ever going to be able to write (or do anything else remotely meaningful with my life, ever)(dramatic? yes. overly dramatic?  fuck no.)

Me:  (long, heavy, dramatic sigh of deep, deep sorrow and exhaustion)  “Oh alright.  Hello darkness, my old friend….”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Cute.”

Me:  “I’m trying to hide my intense hatred for you by acting playful.  Playful interaction is supposed to be good for me, but it is hard to be playful and fucking annoyed as fuck at the same time, which I am.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “I know.”

Me:  “Is that what you want?”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “I don’t want or not-want anything.”

Me:  “Lovely.  Let me guess:  you’re Vulcan…  I knew there would be some repercussions from obsessively watching all things Star Trek related all my life.  Now my neuroses are alien.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “No.”

Me:  “What does that even mean?  You’re not Vulcan?  You’re not my neuroses?  Can you help me out here?  Why am I doing all the work?”

(Oh, perfect, now I’m having discussions with myself and asking one part of myself why the other part is having to do all the work in the conversation… is this at all normal?)

Mass of Dark Matter:  “You’re creating the work.  Why do you struggle so against me when you created me?  You know what I am.”

Me:  “No, Mr. Mass of Dark Matter with Vulcan tendencies, I don’t know what you are.  And while I want to scream I DIDN’T MAKE YOU and other things that make you feel stupid for saying that I made you, I am aware that you’re in my fucking head, so I GUESS I have some part in your creation.  But I refuse to take total responsibility (that’s what she said…..) AND I’m not at all clear on what you are.  While you’re clearly an ass, you don’t seem to be a Dreadifuss Beast.  Or any other kind of everyday monster.  You seem to have shades (or maybe echoes…) of the RRLM, but that doesn’t explain everything, plus he is everywhere, so that doesn’t help….. OH MY GOD.  You’re not Vulcan at all.  I just realized that you are soooooooo not Vulcan, you, my fucked-up friend, are the BORG.  Which, if you know anything about anything, is WAY FUCKING WORSE.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Interesting.  I can see where you might conclude that I am more analogous to the Borg than to Vulcans (all of whom are PRETEND, FYI).  This means that you have correctly sensed that I am made up of all sorts of parts/things/issues which were once unrelated, but have now been stored in a huge container, ME, and are now working together towards a common goal.”

Me:  (panicking cuz the Borg are scary as shit and they always win, practically)  “What is the common goal, total destruction of ME?  You’re telling me that my shit got together and formed a coalition to fucking destroy me?  You don’t hear about this little phenomenon in Psych 101, do you?  This is advanced fucking nightmare shit.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Settle down.  No one is trying to destroy you.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Our common goal is to hide inside this Mass of Dark Matter so you don’t go around trying to address every single one of us, especially in writing.  That would be a disaster and you would be hurt, or worse.  When we are all together like this we are MASSIVE and TOTALLY UNAPPROACHABLE… at least that is how we want to be perceived.“

Me:  “Mission accomplished, fuckheads.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Exactly.  Believe me, you do NOT want to poke around in here on account of the gravity and the ever-present slippery slope.”

Me:  “Well.  Fuck.  What am I supposed to do?  Who/what is in there?  Just give me an example.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “What did I just say?  No.  Don’t even start.  It’s not safe.”

Me:  “Look.  You’re probably right, but just give me an example.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Nice try.  No.”

Me:  (bluffing) “I guess we will just have to go to real therapy then, and you will all be destroyed.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “You can’t afford to go to therapy, or you would totally be there.  Anway. I didn’t want to do this, but I suppose I have no choice but to show you just how uncomfortable it would be for you to continue to try to “playfully interact” with this stuff.  I don’t think you’re going to like it and I don’t think you are going to want to publish it, in any form, to the world.”

Me:  “It can’t be that bad.  I’ve shared a lot of scary stuff in my writing.  Show me what you’ve got.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Alright, but keep in mind that you asked for this.  Also, this isn’t even the thing with the biggest gravitational pull in here, so, if you think this is bad (and you will), imagine what the worst stuff is like…

Me:  “Just do it already.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Okay, well, part of what is in here is your fear that you can’t have a life of your own as long as your Mom is alive.  Which is horrible enough in itself, but then you have the corresponding, heretofore silent, fear that even if your Mom’s illness weren’t an issue, you wouldn’t be having a life anyway.  You’re worried that your time is up — you’ll never find work again, you’ll never fall in love again, you’ll never have the relationship with your son that you want, you’ll never participate in life.  You think you’ve had your chance and you squandered it and at the ripe old age of 46 it’s all over.  Done.  You think your destiny is to end up with nothing and no one.  You act like this is not what you think, but deep down inside, it totally is.  A year ago (when your contract ended) all you wanted was to be hired by a group of mean women practicing bullshit semi-law/social work.  That is how “big” you allowed yourself to think.  Now, because those women didn’t hire you (which would have been a fucking disaster) and you stayed in child welfare so long that you’re totally burned out on ever practicing law again, you think you’re unemployable.  And even if you were employable, you don’t think you can work with other people ever again because somehow you’ve lost every single social skill you had ever acquired over the last six months of not working.  Sounds far-fetched, but that is what you think.  You say you want to be a writer, but you don’t believe that it can happen.  You think you’re too old, you didn’t get the right education, you’re not motivated enough, you’re not interesting enough, your imagination sucks and the truth is too difficult to write.  Especially while your Mom is alive.  And you can’t really imagine doing anything else, which makes you worry that you’re just lazy/dumb/lazy.

Me:  (pregnant pause)

Mass of Dark Matter:  “I warned you.”

Me:  “That’s heavy.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Hence the “Dark Matter” part of my title.”

Me:  “I’m not sure how to playfully interact with all that.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “It’s too big and too heavy to interact with at all, much less “playfully”…

Me:  “I wish it wasn’t really my stuff.”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “I know.”

Me:  “GAH!”

Mass of Dark Matter:  “Exactly.”

THE END

and/or

STAY TUNED…. (?)

xoxo

kim

p.s.  this little conversation has been EXHAUSTING to write/read/think.  which usually means something useful will come out of it — just not right now.

p.s.s.  it seems like i write the same fucking blog post over and over, just using different things to describe my brain.  is that true?  or am i exploring different things?  i need to go read my own blog to figure this out….

 

 

Do cats even *have* orgasms? Anyway. I’m really relaxed.

Admission:

I did a totally decadent thing recently.

(No.  I didn’t have a multi-million dollar wanna-be “royal” wedding/festival of gaudiness.  That was the other Kim.)

I had a two-hour massage.

TWO HOURS.

When I went into the massage, my right shoulder-blade was on fire, my right elbow had been aching for days and I was having shooting pains from my shoulder to my forearm. 

Oh, and I wanted to cry on account of the pain.

Two hours later I was a total noodle.

I don’t even really remember the end of the massage.  I just remember somehow finding my way to the dressing room and being somewhat amused by the fact that I looked positively post-coital — messy hair, pink cheeks, bemused smile.

You know how cats get all relaxed and sprawl out and purr and you’re kind of embarrassed to even look at them because it seems pretty obvious that they just had an orgasm?

I felt like that. 

Except do cats even have orgasms?

And how would we know if they did? 

They look like they totally have orgasms.  All the time.

Anyway.

Part of the reason why this massage was so good is because of my new Favorite Person, John the Architect turned Massage Guy.  Turns out John was fresh out of massage school and was super-excited to explain to me how my back muscles work, etc.

I didn’t really understand all the fancy medical terms.

Then he actually looked at/messed around with my shoulder/arm and said “Wow.  This is totally jacked up!”

I understood that medical term.

I also understood that John was a little too excited about the fact that I seemed to have an actual problem with my shoulder/arm.  I’m pretty sure I saw him rubbing his hands together with glee. 

Then he used them to simultaneously torture me and make me groan with pleasure.

(No, I’m not becoming an erotica writer.)

(As far as you know.)

(And I did not have sex with the masseuse.)

(Although he is the only man who has touched my bare skin since the dawn of time, practically.  So there’s that. He is also 32, short and not into girls.)

It was just a really good massage. 

Note to self for the next time I have a male masseuse:

• Shave your legs, Kim.  Honestly.
• Don’t wear granny panties.  It’s horrifying when the masseuse turns down the blanket and tries to tuck it in at your waist but can’t because your panties come up about 2 inches above your waist.
• Maybe don’t moan out loud with pleasure.
• Also, grunting is not cool.
• Try not to get excited when the masseuse whispers to you; he’s not sex talking you.

xoxo,

kim

p.s.  i’m pretty sure this is what they call “phoning it in”… sorry!  this is all i could squeak past my multiple Dreadifuss Beasts.  i promise a real post is coming soon.  i think.  i hope.

Book of Me: On Interacting with the Real Live Monster + Decontamination Plan

Yes, Virginia, there are real fucking monsters in this world.  And, if you’re not careful, you may accidentally invite one into your life and then never be able to un-invite him.

Deal with it. [insert fake smile]

So.

I’ve been doing really well at keeping Oscar and all the other Dreadifuss Beasts at bay lately.

Yay Me!  Yay Sparkly Bangles!  Yay Other Stuff!

Then I had to interact with the one, Real-Live Monster in my life.

He has a lot of names, but “Real Live Monster” (RLM) seems to sum him up pretty well.  Dreadifuss Beasts can be horrible and mean, but they are also so ugly they are cute and mostly just scared and acting all big and mean so they can protect me from whatever they are really scared about.  (Shout out to Havi, who taught me this important lesson about monsters/Dreadifuss Beasts)  Those guys come from a place of love. 

The RLM isn’t just a voice in my head (although, I’ve come to realize that quite a few of the Dreadifuss Beasts voices are really just him, in disguise) he is real and he does NOT come from a place of love.  Well, not love for me anyway.  Love to be “RIGHT!”, maybe.  He sees the world like this:  All Good or All Bad (and “all bad = kim and kim = all bad”) and this:  I Deny All Mistakes & I Remember Every Single One of Yours In Vivid Detail and this:  You Think You Can Leave Me?  I’ll Show You and Show You and Show You Again How I’m Still In Control.

I don’t think in terms of “All Bad or All Good”, so I can’t say he is All Bad.**

 The best word to describe him (in relationship to me) is:

He has a  relentless fixation on making sure I know how awful I am at pretty much everything.  Making him my RLM or, more precisely, my RRLM.

Anyway.

Needless to say, our interaction was not a good experience.  And, by the time it was over, I felt like everything I have been working so hard just to fucking maintain in terms of mental health was in the process of crumbling right underneath me. 

I was right back in the oh-so-familiar place of doom and “He’s right, I’m a horrible terrible very bad person and things would be better without me” that I have lived in, off and on, for almost two decades.

Then, sensing weakness, my “What’s the Point” Dreadifuss Beast broke out of his soundproofed enclosure and went absolutely fucking crazy.  He’s an ass.  Like a Tasmanian devil, only not cute at all and entirely hateful.

Here’s what his fit of stupid joy sounded like:

“Ooooooooo, What’s the Point?! Doesn’t matter what you do — no no,  you’ve already fucked up!  No point in even trying now, Kim, you’ve made soooooo many mistakes in your life that you will never recover.  What’s the Point in even trying?  You’re powerless.  Deafeated.  No matter what you do Now, you’ve still got to pay for Then.  Oh, and you’ll never be done paying for Then, because you are unforgiveable.  You’ve disappointed everyone. You can’t be “redeemed”.  What’s the Point?  And here’s the main thing:  Why Try?  Just give up!  GET BACK UNDER THE COVERS AT ONCE!  You suck, just accept it and stop trying to convince anyone (or yourself) otherwise.  What’s the Point?  Nothing Can Change.

You can see why I prefer to keep him locked up in a soundproof room.

To be honest, the tag-team combination of those two — the RRLM and What’s The Point Beast — knocked me completely off my feet for a few days.  For example, I started this post last Thursday (5 whole days ago) and couldn’t finish it because of the crying and the buying in to what they were saying about me and the paralyzing scared-ness that this is how my life is going to be no matter what.  Antidepressants or no antidepressants.

Today I decided that this setback is just unacceptable.  I need to get some procedures in place for dealing with the RRLM (and his cohorts) before, during and after the interactions.

So, I’m writing a chapter in the Book of Me. 

And to remind myself that (a) I’m funny and (b) I have some power.  I’m starting off my chapter about the RRLM like this:

Ahhhh, if only it were that easy to get rid of the RRLM.

BOOK OF ME:  INTERACTION WITH THE RELENTLESS REAL LIVE MONSTER: BEFORE, DURING AND AFTER THE NIGHTMARE.

Here’s the thing, sweet pea: He isn’t going away and, more importantly, he isn’t going to change.  You need to stop getting excited about little hints of change because they are just used to lure you into interacting with him and once you do that the result is always the same:  pain and shock that he hasn’t changed.  At all.  And he is still relentless.

Before any interaction:

1.  Manage your expectations — history has shown that regardless of the reason for the interaction (funerals, celebrations) nothing will deter him from his primary objective of making you “bad” and “wrong”.  Stop expecting anything else.

2.  Define goals for the interaction — what is the purpose of the interaction?  If you’re sharing information write it down and share it, if you’re expecting to receive information make sure what it is you really need to know and ask for it directly and in excruciating detail.

3.  Can this be done via email?  He doesn’t like email because then he has less control over the conversation.  It’s worth a try, but don’t expect to get far before he demands more personal interaction.

4.  Start gathering your force fields around you.  Anticipate the attacks and make sure no part of you (or your force field) will allow them to pierce your armour just because you kind of, sort of believe it might be true.  You know what is true about you, sweet pea, and you take responsibility for those things all the time, you do NOT need to take responsibility for what isn’t yours.

5.  These attacks always come, be prepared:

–  “You screw everything up.”

–  “You are crazy.”

–  “You’re a horrible mother.”

–  “You always put your [dying] mother’s needs ahead of your son.”

–  “Your father would be so disappointed in you.”

–  “I don’t care what is going on in your life, but let me tell you what I KNOW is going on in your life, but I don’t care, it’s none of my business.”

–  “You’re on a “need to know” basis — I will decide what information about our son that you need to know.”

–  “I will bury you like a turd in a sandbox (or some other stupid colorful phrase) if you challenge me.”

–  “Our son always comes first in my life…..“

During the Interaction:  FORCE FIELDS!

1.  Remember when the goals of the interaction are and stick with that.

2.  Don’t try to reason with the RRLM – it never works and you end up going down a rabbit-hole of fucked-up logic every time.  Don’t do it.

3.  When the bullying starts, end the conversation.

4.  If you feel yourself feeling like crying and/or screaming, end the conversation.

5.  Don’t respond to the personal attacks.  Let them slide off your force field.

6.  Put him on speakerphone — somehow that makes the hurtful-ness less hurtfull and the crazy-ness more obvious.

7.  Never ever ever ever, no matter what he says that seems vaguely human, never put your guard down.  It’s like inviting a massacre, Kim.  Of you.  It’s a trick, don’t fall for it.  Seriously.  Don’t do it.

After the Interaction:  Decontamination, Recovery & Rebuilding

1.  Breathe.  It’s over.

2.  Don’t ruminate about the crazy.  It’s his crazy.  The more you think about it the more crazy you adopt.

3.  Laugh.

4.  Make sure none of his beliefs/statements about you are remaining in your force fields.  Those are his, you don’t have to entertain them in your space.

5.  Stop trying to figure him out.  Really.  You’ve spent years of your life on this particular project and it’s never been fruitful.

6.  Reality Check!  You know very well, sweet pea, that you aren’t a perfect parent, but you are a good parent.  And a good person.  The fact that the RRLM doesn’t want to let you move past the mistakes you’ve made in the past (ummmm, 10+ years ago, for the ones he mostly wants to harass you about) doesn’t mean YOU can’t move past them. 

Remember this:  He is NEVER GOING TO FORGIVE YOU, Kim.  It isn’t in his nature.  You have to forgive yourself.  And you have to remember the part about being medicated incorrectly — it isn’t an excuse, sweet pea, but it helps you to put it in perspective for yourself.  He is never going to have compassion for you (or, frankly, for anyone) so you need to be sure to have compassion for yourself.

7.  Shake it off.  Really.  You can’t afford to let this get to you, destabilize you and destroy all the progress you’ve made.  That would be crazy.  Don’t be crazy. Move on.

xoxo

kim

**And because I know things are not All Good or All Bad I am able to see that part of him is scared and scarred and that our relationship/my behavior triggered every bad scary thing that he had ever imagined when he was growing up.  And for that I am sorry.  I truly am.  And as much as he hates me (which is a LOT), he loves our son a billion-trillion-times more + 1.  He is a good father.  And I love that about him, which makes it even harder for me to see him as All Bad.  He isn’t All Bad.

Antidepressants: Eleventyseven billion dollars. Cheap Sparkly Bangle Bracelets: Priceless.

 

This post has taken me forever to write.

 

Like, at least four hours yesterday and almost three today.  And I just scrapped my entire last draft.

 

All I’m trying to say is that, despite the fact that I’m terrified that I’m never going to earn actual “income” again, I frivolously spent $9.50 (+ tax) on sparkly bangle bracelets yesterday. 

 

A whole stack of them.  All for me. 

 

And I think they are beautiful.

 

Sparkly greens, sparkly pinks, sparkly oranges, shiny silk coral thread with gold sparklies and probably my favorite one is made entirely of moss green silk thread. 

 

And here’s the thing:

 

They make me happy.

These silly bangles are so sweet/shiny/sparkly/tiny and they sound all “tinkle-tinkle” when I move my arm (normally this would annoy the shit out of me, but not today!) and also they are all “Sparklesurprise!” when I happen to see them out of the corner of my eye.

I fucking love these sparkly bangles. 

I love the way the way they slip around on my forearm, playfully reminding me that I’m a girly-girl at heart. 

I love that they make me think (or maybe remember) that I can be the kind of girl who doesn’t think twice about wearing 14 cheap sparkly bangles on a regular-old-Tuesday in July. 

Mostly I love that looking at these sparkly bangles on my wrist reminds me that, at least for today, I am the kind of girl who (a) has some sparkle and, (b) is not afraid to show it.

Today I am celebrating every hint of sparkle that comes from me (via sparkly bangle or otherwise).  Each little sliver of sparkle reflects a part of me that had to fight like hell through the doom doom doom of depression to even find a little light to reflect.  

I’ve spent like eleventyseven billion dollars over the past 15 years on antidepressants and not one of them ever made me feel as good as these cheap sparkly bangle bracelets.

Alive.  Playful.  Amused.  Grateful.  Curious.  Confident.  Silly.  Sexy.  Girly.  Happy.

These sparkly bangles are priceless.

 

xoxoxoxoxo

kim

The Book of Me: De Plane! De Plane!

I’m working on the Book of Me again.  Turns out there is no plane.*

(but if there were a plane, it would be a G6, cuz that I’m feelin’ so fly, like a G6)

There is, however, a plan.  A “How to Stop Taking Antidepressants Without Entirely Fucking Up My Life and Falling (Further) Into The Clutches of the Dreadifuss Beasties” plan.  But that title is a little long and not glamorous at all, so I’m going to call it “De Plane! De Plane!”….

Makes perfect sense, right?

Also, the thought of a little french midget (who looks vaguely hispanic) in a white tux and questionable facial hair running around and waving his little arms in the air while yelling “De Plane! De Plane!” to remind me about the aforementioned plan makes me surprisingly happy.

I haven’t worked out all of the details yet,  and I’m sure there will be lots of tweaking in the future, but here is the plan as it stands today.

De Plane! De Plane!

Oh hello, sweet pea.  Today is Day 10 of the Great Anti – Antidepressant Experiment of 2011.  Here are some things that have helped so far and some things that I’m sure will help in the future, even though I’m not doing them, ummmm, yet.

• Vitamin Supplements — I’m taking the “Women to Women” program Essential Nutrients packets twice a day.  Multi-vitamin/mineral formula, EFA formula and calcium/magnesium formula.  I’m also taking HemeVite (k-26) which is Vitamin C and Iron.  This has made a pretty huge difference in how I feel physically.  I think it is helping me manage blood sugar/energy and minimize cravings.  Ran out of Adaptisol – which is the women to women formula for adrenal exhaustion, but I’ve re-ordered and I’m sure that is really going to help in the long run also.
• Sleep —  My sleep quality sucks.  Sleep Apnea + I hate wearing the Darth Vader mask that treats sleep apnea = sucky sleep.  Taking a sleep aid helps me sleep through the night.  Going to bed at the same time and getting up at the same time would probably also really help.
• WRITING WRITING WRITING —  Do I really have to explain this?  It helps.  No matter how much you don’t want to do it, do it.
• Eat protein first thing in the morning.  It makes a huge difference.
• Cutting back on Diet Coke (or anything else containing aspartame) — This one is uber-painful….  but the writing is on the wall (i.e., all over the worldwide interweb)  there seems to be quite a bit of “evidence” that aspartame/diet drinks contribute to DEPRESSION and YOUR FAT ASS.
• Yoga —  It is good for the body AND helps manage anxiety.  And it makes me feel good.  Just do it.  It’s not like you don’t have the yoga pants…
• And probably more exercise —  Me: “Wow!  Exercise helps depression?  Who knew?”  Also Me:  “Besides everyone in the entire fucking world?”
• Food/Mood Diary — this seems like a super good idea that I have huge resistance to implementing.
• Gratitude Journal — see above re: Food/Mood Diary.
• OH!  Vitamin D, don’t ever stop taking Vitamin D.  Mere sunshine is not enough for your sweet body/brain.
• Stop watching the news.  Nothing good ever comes out of it.
• Limiting gluten — this seems to make our digestive system happier + calmer.
• Reach out to someone every day — or, in other words, STOP ISOLATING.  I know it is hard when you’re in the dark abyss of doom, but do it anyway.
• Hide — reaching out is good, forgetting that you are an introvert is not good.  Force fields!
• Don’t worry, be happy!  — JUST KIDDING.  That is stupid.

THE END

That is about it for now.  I’m feeling pretty darn good today.  My retreat to the mountains this weekend was fucking awesome.  I met some lovely people and was reminded that mostly people are good.  Mom enjoyed the break also …. 🙂  Her birthday is this week!!!  It’s on Bastille Day, so that is cool.  We are going to her home on the farm in SE Colorado (a/k/a “practically Kansas”)  to celebrate.  Friends and family are going to join us, yay!  Then she starts a clinical trial next week.

I’m feeling super grateful for the people who read this schtuff and post comments — thanks for being awesome and hilarious and reminding me that I’m not so different from everyone else.

All y’all rock.

xoxoxoxo

kim

*  I’m assuming I don’t have to explain “De Plane! De Plane!” — Fantasy Island?  If that rings no bells, I’m not sure what else to say…

Book of Me: On Doom, Gloom and Utter Depression

I’ve had almost a full week of Doom, Gloom and Utter Depression.  I pulled out of it for an hour or two here and there, but mostly I’ve been right down in it.  Unfortunately this is not a rare occurrence for me.  I’ve struggled with anxiety/depression for as long as I can remember.  So, of course, my “story” is that I struggle with anxiety/depression…  I’m going to work on changing that story, but not today.  Today I want to write to the Me who is enmeshed in Doom, Gloom and Utter Depression.

Doomy, Gloomy and Utterly Depressed?  Read this!!

Oh sweet pea, I’m sorry you’re having a Hard Time.  If you’re reading this you’re probably just starting to feel the slide into the muck, or, maybe you are all the way in it.  I know it is hard and scary and exhausting and makes you feel hollow and horrible and that is before you start beating yourself up about feeling that way.

Here are some things to remember:

• No matter how horrible this feels today, it isn’t going to last forever.  I promise.  It just doesn’t work that way.  You will pull out of this and come out on the other side where things look a bit brighter.
• Beating yourself up for having these feelings seems “appropriate” (“Other people don’t have this problem, what is wrong with me?  Snap out of it!”) but totally isn’t.  Would you attack someone else who is struggling with depression/anxiety/whatever?  No, you wouldn’t.  Try to give yourself an ounce of the compassion that you give others.
• Sometimes this stuff is really just bio-chemical and sometimes it is really, truly emotional and it helps when you figure out what exactly is going on this time.  Because if it is just bio-chemical, you could look at whether something has changed in your medications/sleep schedule/environment that could be causing this Hard Time.  If it is truly emotional, though, no amount of medication/sleep/alcohol/sex/reading/internet use is going to “fix” anything.  You’re going to need to feel the feelings (I know, I know, it sucks….) before things will start to get better. 
• It is important to feel your feelings without judging yourself for having them.  What good does that do?  Really, drop the judgement and feel the feelings.  You have permission.
• If you still don’t think you have permission to feel your feelings, no matter what they are, then try giving yourself written permission – maybe on a popsicle stick or sticky note.
• If you are isolating (and I know you pretty well, so I’m guessing you are isolating yourself) consider not doing that.  Who could you hang out with safely?  Who do you know who wouldn’t judge you, tell you to snap out of it, make you explain yourself or be super perky?  Find that person.
• Honey, are you avoiding some Big, Bad Awful Thing that you Don’t Want To Do and/or Even Think About Because It Is Too Big Bad and Awful?  (And beating yourself up for avoiding it?) (Thereby making it Even Worse?)  This would not be unprecedented…If you think this might be what is going on, you might want to try to write about it, draw it in all of it’s ugliness and awfulness so you can get a handle on it, try to break it down into itty-bitty bite-sized pieces, imagine how you will feel when it is done already (!) and off your mind.  Things are rarely as Big, Bad and Awful as they seem to be.
• Remember this is Now, not Then.  What is different about Now?

These things sometime work to make things feel less awful:

• Seek out sunshine (are you taking your Vitamin D?)
• Listen to music that makes you happy.
• Cry.  Aggressively.
• Watch the Jessica videos (“I Like My Stuff!” and “You ok, you fine”)
• Take a bubble bath.
• Go for a walk.  Yes, I’m suggesting that you leave the house….
• Get the mail.
• Call your sassy, virgo sister.
• Scream and yell and cuss for a few minutes.
• Write.  I know you don’t feel like writing, write anyway.  Dude, it always helps.
• Do laundry.
• Take yourself to a movie.
• Read some Hafiz.
• Locate and consume chocolate.
• Take a nap.  For real.
• Do just one thing.

And, Kim, remember that it is okay.  It really is.  Everything is part of everything else, nothing is wasted.

THE END

Sooooooooooooooo, as I wrote this I realized that I have a multitude of things going on this week that might explain my Doom, Gloom and Utter Depression.  First, physical stuff:  Hormone Hell + no anti-depressant for 4 days + not sleeping.  Always a recipe for disaster.  Emotionally:  well, Mom is out of town, so I’m alone in my house which is both awesome and sad because it makes me think of a time when she won’t ever be around.  And I’m avoiding at least two Big Bad Awful Things that I really need to address, but can’t even bring myself to name here.  And my son is going to college soon….?  And Mom’s good friend Joan died.  Which is sad for all the regular reasons but also horrifying because Joan had cancer, then she went into remission, then this winter she got a brain tumor, had surgery, felt better and now she has passed away.  It’s all a little too close to home.  And Mom is so, so sad…. So, yes, I’m SAD, dammit!  And Mom has her MRI next week and I’m SCARED, dammit.  I’m afraid to make any plans whatsoever because I don’t know what is going to happen — either she has more brain mets and has to have Gamma Knife again (and then what?) or she doesn’t and she either gets into a Clinical Trial (long-shot) or goes back to chemotherapy (which makes her feel like shit.)  And, of course, there is the little issue of what I’m doing with my life….?  Oh, and our lease will be up here soon and we haven’t decided whether we are moving, so, basically, everything is up in the air.  And I hate moving.  Anyway.  It’s a lot.

I’m going on a mission for chocolate.

xoxo

kim

Book of Me: Permission to CrazySexyRetreat!

 Time to supplement the Book of Me with some ideas about taking time off. Well, not just taking time off, actually going on a retreat, i.e.,  getting out of my environment and away from my role as primary caregiver/partner in crime for my creative genius mother (with great hair) for more than a few hours. 

 Not just a retreat, a CrazySexyRetreat!  

Why CrazySexy?  It’s psychological.  It is one thing to skulk away and collapse in utter exhaustion for a day or two.  And, frankly, I’m not opposed to doing that every once in a while.  But I would prefer to see my “retreat” time as an opportunity to not only rest, but to get back in touch with my life.  To reclaim the juiciness and color and oomph! of my life, of me.  To recharge physically and emotionally.  To recharge my creativity.

Read This Before You Embark on your CrazySexyRetreat!

Oh, sweetie, you’re thinking about running away and going on retreat?  Is it an emergency?  If so, skip this part and go straight to the Woo-Hoo! section.  And have a good time.

If it is not an emergency, Yay!  No Emergency!  You aren’t waiting until you’re on the brink of a breakdown to take care of yourself!  Progress!

Here are some  thoughts about preparing for your CrazySexyRetreat:

• Give yourself permission to take time off.  Write it down.
• Plan ahead as much as you can.  Minimize expenses.
• Don’t leave any big projects hanging.
• Don’t schedule anything involving a lot of interaction immediately after you get home.
• Don’t get all stressed about packing, you will be fine.
• If you’re taking electronics, take a power strip!
• Art supplies are almost always a good idea.
• If you’re taking food, try to make healthy choices.  And chocolate.
• Take your journal.
• Make sure you tell someone where you’re going.
• Leave already.

Woo-Hoo!  You’re on a CrazySexyRetreat!

• You didn’t run away, you’re taking time off.  You’re recharging.
• Did you bring your permission slip?  If not, prepare another one and put it somewhere you will see it.
• Give yourself permission to not “accomplish” anything while you’re on retreat.  Write it down.
• This is not a conditional retreat, you don’t have to accomplish anything to justify taking it.
• Read that last sentence again.  It’s true.
• It is a good idea to have some kind of ritual to signify the beginning of your retreat.  Practice a few minutes of yoga/meditation, light a candle, do a few minutes of journalling, listen to some soothing music.
• Try to stay mindful of your choices of food/drink.  Do they support your intention to recharge?
• Protect your retreat experience!  Avoid the news, set limits on internet use, turn off your phone ringer.
• Set up a force field!
• Create intentions for your experience, what qualities would you like?  Peace, safety, courage, playfulness, hope, compassion, laughter, ease, flow, lightness….
• Look around you, feel your feet on the ground, notice that you are present.
• Appreciate the alone-ness.  You need it.  Period.
• Don’t have an agenda.
• Everything you do is part of your process and therefore nothing is wasted.
• Listen to your body.
• Make time for Shiva Nata!
• Write.  It always helps.  Always.  Especially when you don’t want to write.  Just do it.
• Have a ritual to signify the end of your retreat.  Thank the space for holding you and your experience.

Preparing for Re-Entry. 

• Force field!
• Remember that you don’t have to justify taking a break to anyone.
• You don’t have to tell anyone what you did or didn’t do.
• Try not to look ahead for things to stress about.
• Don’t immerse yourself in the noisy world all at once.  Protect your experience.
• Try to time your arrival home so you don’t have to immediately interact with anyone.
• What qualities do you want for re-entry?  Ease, flow, gentleness, compassion, strength, renewed compassion, confidence, playfulness, sovereignty.
• Do some journalling as soon as possible.
• See your home in a new light.  See your Mom in a new light.
• Remember gratitude for having the opportunity to go on retreat, and for having a home and Mom to come back to.

xoxo

kim

The Book of Me: Notes On When You Are All “What Should I Do?”

Remember when I went to Portland for the Rally (Rally!) in March and flailed around in unproductive whininess and self-pity and didn’t notice that I was, in fact, doing serious “work” on my “self” and then I came back and a few days later figured out my thing?

That was cool.

I learned a lot about a lot of stuff at Rally (Rally!) and, especially, a lot about what I don’t know a lot about.  Which, it turns out, is a LOT more than one would imagine given my advanced age and years of therapeutic interventions.

Except what I really learned is that most, if not all, of what I absolutely need to know is already here, inside me. 

The truth is that when I’m struggling to make the “right” decision about something — which generally involves all kinds of churning and worrying and angst-ing and more worry —  I’m wasting energy + increasing the risk of coming to the exact wrong decision.  The trick is clearing away all of the crap and noise that has accumulated over the years so I can get to, and hear, what I already know to be true for me.

The sucky thing is that I have “learned” this little trick over and over and over again and, when the need arises, I can totally tell someone else how to do it, and then I forget it again.  So, this time I’m putting some Important Notes About This in the Book of Me, in purple magic marker, and with glitter, for emphasis.

WHEN YOU ARE ALL “WHAT SHOULD I DO?”  READ THIS:

Oh, sweet pea…

Here you are again.  Struggling.

I have really good news for you!  You can stop struggling right this minute.  Yes, now.

Struggling and churning and angst-ing are only good for one thing:  Putting You On Notice.

It’s true.

When you are struggling, churning and/or angst-ing it’s a super-big clue that you are not listening for what is inside.  And what is inside is the answer.  The way to peace.

It’s not woo-woo, it is just the truth.

(and, therefore, woo-hoo!)

(sorry, couldn’t resist…)

Here are a few things to remember in times like these:

• There are no right answers, there are choices with different consequences.
• You’ve made a hundred-gazillion-plus choices in your life and the vast majority of them were good!
• The less-good, arguably bad, choices were learning experiences and you’re a pretty good learner.
• The more uncomfortable and angsty you are about a choice, the more likely it is that you absolutely know what to do.
• Almost nothing is black or white, this or that, now or never…. look for the compromise solution.
• Make absolutely sure that you are making choices based on things as they are Now and not confusing things with Then.
• Write about it!  Writing always helps.  Seriously.  Write already.
• Are you reacting or choosing??  Reacting = usually bad!  Choosing = usually good!
• If one thing doesn’t work out, another thing will.  It is the nature of things.
• Are you asking other people what you should do?  You are, aren’t you…  Just Stop.
• You are the expert on you.  Be still and listen.
• Sometimes it just won’t be clear, choose to do the next right thing and eventually the answer will come.
• Usually you know.  Remember “alignment” and “congruence” and trust yourself.

Also, it always helps to read this essay (or anything else)(but most of all this one) by Mark Nepo:

Each person is born with an unencumbered spot, free of expectation and regret, free of ambition and embarrassment, free of fear and worry; an umbilical spot of grace where we were each first touched by God. It is this spot of grace that issues peace. Psychologists call this spot the Psyche, Theologians call it the Soul, Jung calls it the Seat of the Unconscious, Hindu masters call it Atman, Buddhists call it Dharma, Rilke calls it Inwardness, Sufis call it Qalb, and Jesus calls it the Center of our Love.

To know this spot of Inwardness is to know who we are, not by surface markers of identity, not by where we work or what we wear or how we like to be addressed, but by feeling our place in relation to the Infinite and by inhabiting it. This is a hard lifelong task, for the nature of becoming is a constant filming over of where we begin, while the nature of being is a constant erosion of what is not essential. Each of us lives in the midst of this ongoing tension, growing tarnished or covered over, only to be worn back to that incorruptible spot of grace at our core.

(Emphasis added.)

See, sweetie, everyone lives in this tension.  You know you have this spot of grace.  You’ve been there.  The illusion you tend to believe is that you are disconnected from it and you have to look outside yourself to find it again.  Then you start to panic and churn, like a panicked diver waving frantically for help on a choppy surface.  Using all your energy fighting the surface when just below there is calmness and peace and quiet and strength.

You have what you need, Kim.  Stop struggling.  Listen for your answer.

xoxo,

kim

photo: http://www.flickr.com/x/t/0091009/photos/coyote23/4107287660/