My Own North Star

I used to think love was like this:

Solid, firm, and unmovable. Constantly changing and adapting, yes, with seasons that alter how it looks. But always there to provide a compass for me to steer my life by.

As it turns out, I have to be my own compass, my own North Star. It doesn't come naturally to me. I feel like I'm floating in the wide ocean of life with no direction. I don't know if there is an island oasis on the horizon or if I'm about to capsize. For a girl with anxiety issues, this is completely debilitating.

I spent the day yesterday helping my husband gather up his belongings to go to his new apartment. The crystal vases that were a gift from a former employer, the ice cream maker I suggested my dad give him for his birthday one year, the knife set I gave him, and the books. I was okay with everything until I got to the books. Goodbye, Princess Bride. Goodbye, signed copy of Way of Kings. I'm sorry I never got around to reading you. I'll miss you.

I'll be doing the same thing today and watching my house and life suddenly get a lot emptier. My optimistic side says: less cluttered. Less physical clutter, less emotional clutter. But my anxiety-ridden, lost self is listening to a playlist on the iPod titled "Sad/Angry," occasionally kneeling on the kitchen floor in tears, and trying to muster the courage to face one more day.

As I looked at my front garden this morning, I saw my hibiscus bush in full bloom. I almost walked right past, but then I checked myself. It only blooms for a few precious weeks every year. And when it blooms, it isn't shy about its beauty. It opens up blossoms bigger than my head and celebrates itself without regret.

Each blossom lasts only one day. I couldn't help wondering if love is more like a hibiscus flower than the mountains looming over my valley. Big, bold, breathlessly satisfying, but ultimately so very temporary. If so, do I look to the past and remember the shriveled remains of past happiness?

No, I look to the future, knowing that my hibiscus bush is far from done with its celebration of life. Those small, closed up green leaves hold untold mysteries for the future. One day, very soon, they will open. I will discover joys I never expected. I will lift my head again and rejoice. And maybe those joys will be temporary, too. But there is always next season. There will be renewal. There will be new hope.

Let the winter come, because it will always be followed by Spring.

Weakness, then strength

My life right now is stuck between dream, reality, and a nightmare. Nothing feels real. I guess I'm a little numb to the pain, because if I allow myself to feel, I don't know what will happen.

I'm about to file for divorce. My husband and I have been separated, for all intents and purposes, for several months. I don't need to go into the details, but life is complicated right now. I know some people think I'm being selfish. Some people think I'm being naive. People can think whatever they want--I think I'm being brave.

Being brave isn't easy. It's painful. It doesn't come naturally to me. I'm a strong person, but I don't always want to be. I want to have the freedom to just melt into a puddle of insecurities, but I can't afford that with four children to take care of. I have to be strong.

As I lay on my floor a few minutes ago, forcing myself to do a few more crunches and glute exercises, the tears ran down my face. My body hurt all over and I just felt like I had nothing more to give. But I kept moving, willing myself to find the strength that I don't have right now.

I'm trying to be strong, but I feel so weak. Is that the natural order of things? To gain strength, we have to push ourselves beyond comfort, beyond the limitations we have set for ourselves. We must make ourselves weak in order to become strong.

I stared in the mirror yesterday, looking at the too-many-curves of my body. So soft, so flabby, so weak. I want to be strong and proud of myself, but I don't feel that way. I am not that person. Ironically, to become that person, I must believe I am that person. I have to go into a hypnotic state of believing in my own strength, when all the evidence points to the contrary, if I want to find actual strength.

And then I look in the mirror and reality crashes in. I fight with myself--I am weak. No, I am strong. I am weak. Yes, I am weak, but I will become strong.

Weakness before strength. I must believe in myself to become myself. It is the natural order of things.

But some days, it is so hard.

Flowers and Weeds

Right now, my yard and my life are full of a lot of weeds.

The lawn is dead and it's my fault. The grass won't grow anywhere but in the flower beds.

The flowers that I so carefully planted in the fall are being choked out by the weeds that I negligently allowed to grow. A passive choice not to confront a problem has cancelled out my active attempts from the past.

I am overwhelmed at the impossibility of getting my flower beds--and my life--back to a state of beauty and calm. The task seems beyond me.

So I make a choice.

I search for hope. I choose to find the beauty among the weeds. I pick some herbs and some flowers and put them in a vase together. I fill the vase with pure water and fill my soul with renewed commitment to see the good in my life, to celebrate the strength among the weakness. I choose triumph while surrounded by certain defeat.

Nothing will be easy. The weeds will still grow. I will still feel embarrassed by the dead and ugly things in my yard and soul. But I am strong and I know the weeds will not choke out everything good.

My strength remains.

A Few Real Confessions

It's true, I confess...

* I am going through two major things in my life that would be considered traumatic by anybody's definition. These are both huge things, interrelated and complex. There are some elements of these things that require life-changing decisions on my part, and elements of these things that are absolutely out of my control. Not a good combination.

It's true, I confess...
* I've made some very unpopular decisions that go against the grain of everything I've been taught, and yet I feel those decisions are the right things for me right now. I can't tell you how grateful I am for the friends and family that support me, even while disagreeing or wondering if I'm totally losing it.

It's true, I confess...
* I realized months ago that, while I have no problem being an advocate for mental health awareness on this blog, I have one major failing: I can't talk about it while I'm in the middle of it. Depression and anxiety were absolutely consuming me at the end of last year, to the point where my physical health was suffering severely. I felt like I was having a heart attack at least once a day and thinking (quite literally) that I was going to die. I went to my doctor finally to get some anti-anxiety medication and he told me I had scored quite high on the depression questionnaire as well. I laughed it off, but then started thinking about it.

I was tired all the time, unmotivated, and had no interest in anything but sitting around and feeling tired. I was getting plenty of sleep and yet still needing a nap every afternoon. These are classic symptoms of depression, and I know this, so how could I have missed it? I guess I assumed that just because I felt happy, I couldn't be depressed. I was wrong. Depression is a medical illness that can have emotional side-effects--it is not a measure of emotionally resiliency.

After a few weeks on my medication, I started to look around at the world and think it was a beautiful place. I wanted to get out and do things! To feel alive! I wanted to set goals, plan my life, be a better person! I realized that I had been in a very, very dark place for a long time before that. I write about this because I want other people to recognize depression in themselves in their friends, so people don't have to suffer. A psychologist said to me, "As a therapist, the one thing I'm actually terrified of is depression. I've seen how devastating it can be." Amen, amen, and amen. If there is anybody out there that needs a friendly person to talk about it with, contact me.

It's true, I confess...
* After all my study of how to be proactive and mentally healthy in life, I still find myself feeling overwhelmed by how much of life is out of my control. (This is the anxiety talking.) Earlier this week, I was ready to send my kids off to foster care and ship myself to a year-long meditation retreat in India or something. I felt like an absolutely incompetent human being. I recognized this feeling of "my-life-is-totally-out-of-control-and-I'm-a-victim-of-it-all" and had to nip it in the bud. I'm not a victim--I'm a survivor, and more importantly: I'm a fighter. I think anybody who knows me well understands this: I am strong and feisty and pretty awesome, actually.

So I made a personal manifesto to remind myself of what I really need in my life. (This is really only a partial list, but these are the bare basics that I felt needed attention.) Here it is:

I must care for myself if I want to care for others, especially my children. I must care for myself if I want to be happy and satisfied with my life. I must follow my conscience and find peace in my life. There are specific, mundane things I must do every day to feel good:

(1) Get enough sleep
(2) Exercise
(3) Eat the right kinds of foods, in the right amounts
(4) Keep my environment clean and orderly

In addition to these things, I really need to enrich my life:

(1) Sing
(2) Write
(3) Connect with my friends 

If I do these things, I will be stronger. I will be better able to take care of my children. I will be healthier and happier with my own life and in my own skin.

Oh yeah...

It's been almost a week and I forgot to post the other thing that I promised. Too late for that now, so I'll just say:

Go buy the digital anthology that has my first published story. It's awesome, and all the proceeds go to charity, which is also awesome. (Even more essence of awesome: this project was my brainchild and I'm listed as assistant editor.)

I've been going through a major midlife crisis lately, so I just wrote a personal manifesto that I plan to post later. Maybe in about a week or so. In the meantime, I'd love some positive thoughts in the comments to boost my morale during a really difficult time.

More later.

Book Talk :: Return to Exile

Oh, lookie here, I have this blog thing. Huh. It's been pretty neglected lately, but I decided to reawaken True Confessions for a good cause (or two) today.

First up, I've never joined a book blog tour before. Perhaps it's just not my thing. Perhaps I'm too lazy. Perhaps I'm just holding out for the New York Times to offer me big money to review books for them.

Illustrations by John Rocco

Or perhaps I've just never had the right incentive, but today I do, because I get to blog about one of my favorite new authors, E.J. Patten.

I first met Eric Patten at a local writing convention in February. He was consistently one of my favorite speakers--he's smart, interesting, and wildly funny. I cornered him after one of his sessions and discovered he's also a really nice guy. I invited him to join my critique group, Critiki, for an author lunch sometime since he lives nearby. Foolishly, he agreed.

At our Critiki lunch, my respect for Eric just grew and grew. We learned so much from him and couldn't stop laughing the entire time. He also came to a charity event I planned and was one of our presenters. He's just an all-around awesome guy so I wanted to spread the word about his book, Return to Exile.

There are some books that you learn to like as the story progresses. This book is not like that--I didn't need any time to warm up to it. I was literally laughing out loud in the first paragraphs:

Phineas T. Pimiscule was not what you'd call an "attractive" man. He wasn't "desirable" or "appealing." He didn't like "things" or do "stuff" or "wash" himself. He was not the kind of guy to "put" "quotation" "marks" around "words" or to say things in an unassuming or assuming way. 

He was the kind of guy who wore a monocle. 

He had also been known to fraternize with unsavory characters--a necessity of the job, and possibly a result of monocle-wearing. He traveled the world, seeing the worst of it--places with grotesque names like The-Twelve-Levels-of-Hidden-Terror, Devil's Hill, and Wyoming.

With a beginning like that, I knew this book wouldn't disappoint. Eric's writing is complex and imaginative, brimming with a great world to explore. I definitely recommend you pick up a copy for yourself or your kids. But only if you like laughing. Or if you like to read about monster hunters who make weapons out of garbage.

For more information about Eric or his book, here are some links:

Facebook page
Eric's website
Return to Exile on Amazon

Get ready for a double dose of awesome, because I have another important thing to blog about later today! Stay tuned!

Shadows

There are times when the sun filters through the western sky just so, and the world is thrown into a warm glow that surpasses everyday beauty. The world seems to be revealing its true self as the light glints off the branches of trees and blades of grass.

There are times when life feels dark and black, when I suddenly realize I'm not as brave as I thought. Everything seems to be shadow.

And when those times intersect, that one small moment of perfection is enough to keep me breathing joy one day more.

Dear Eden

Dear Eden,

It finally snowed today. You and your brothers were delighted. The boys put on coats and gloves and hats, ran outside and started throwing snowballs at the door where you watched them. You stood with your nose pressed to the glass, silently begging to join them.

Joseph helped you put on your snowsuit and boots, and then held you by the hand down the icy steps. He and Elijah ran out into the snow, heaping it into their arms and playing, but you hesitated. You stood on the edge of the concrete, your small feet slipping around on the ice, unsure about all that white stuff. You turned around, reached out to me and I said Go ahead, Try the snow. Don't be afraid.

You turned around, stood at the edge again and held your arms out to Elijah. He gripped your hand in his and helped you onto the snow.

This is not the first time you have been carried into new experiences by your brothers and I pray it won't be the last. You were the missing puzzle piece in our family. Your brothers need you as much as you need them.

You are loved.

Mom

..but I got a flu shot.

Well, that's one way to do a colon cleanse. Ugh.