Stigmas and Silver Ribbons

Everybody is talking about this post by The Bloggess from last night.  If you haven't read it yet, you really, REALLY should.

When depression sufferers fight, recover and go into remission we seldom even know, simply because so many suffer in the dark…ashamed to admit something they see as a personal weakness…afraid that people will worry, and more afraid that they won’t.  We find ourselves unable to do anything but cling to the couch and force ourselves to breathe.

The simple fact that those of us that suffer from depression, or that love someone who does, are ashamed of it - that's unfortunately a heartrendingly true statement.  It's such a stigma, something that gets downplayed or openly mocked by so many people; even by those who have it.  And it's not just depression, but the whole litany of mental disorders - see, just saying "mental disorders" makes you automatically think "the crazies," doesn't it?  It's blatantly obvious that the common mindset about these diseases needs to change.

I hopped on teh Googles to see what sort of organizations are out there for education and support.  Here's what I've found, and wanted to share:

Silver Ribbon Coalition - An effort to promote awareness of brain disorders through the silver ribbon symbol.  They talk about how the red ribbon campaign for HIV/AIDS helped reduce the stigma hanging over that disease, and how the silver ribbon campaign hoped to do the same for brain disorders - and while they tout their success, obviously more needs to be done.  Their shop has some nice things.

No Kidding, Me Too! - Founded by Joe Pantoliano, NKM2 wants to make brain disease a common conversation through the media and entertainment industries.  Their board member list includes Robert Downey, Jr., Samuel L. Jackson, and a ton of other names whose voices would definitely lend credibility to the cause.  Their LifeLinks bracelets are pretty cool too.

NoStigmas - The post by The Bloggess proves the goal of NoStigmas - that by sharing our stories, we share hope.  Just knowing that we aren't alone in our struggles gives inspiration to others, and educates as well.

To Write Love on Her Arms - TWLOHA is probably the best known of the groups dedicated to this cause.  Their shirts can be seen on hipsters nationwide, they host concerts and events to raise awareness for teen depression and suicide prevention, and they recently won a $1 million grant from Chase based on Facebook votes.  The popularity of TWLOHA is inspiring, yet sometimes I wonder if the true message of the group gets lost.

It's taken some harsh realities for my mindset to change - I'm hoping that it doesn't take such unpleasant circumstances for others to change, too.  So show support, educate others, and let's destroy the stigmas.

Day Dreaming

Today, Lucy asked "What's your dream?"

***

Someday I will have...

...a house like this....

...with a room like this...

...and a garden like this...

...and like this too...

...and a studio/shop like this...

Courtesy of Ross Chapin Architects

...with this in our backyard.

McKenzie River, Oregon

Mantras don't always help you sleep though.

I came to the conclusion the other day that goals really aren't worth having.  All they do is stress you out, make you anxious, direct your focus so tightly that you tend to miss out on a lot of other stuff, and ultimately disappoint you in some way.

Now, ideas and dreams - things we'd like to see or do or get, without hanging a lot of hope on and putting a lot of work into them, those are different.  They hang there in the air, and if the chance comes along to snatch them, then it's easy and generally painless and often more gratifying, in that you had no expectations attached to them.

Fate, I guess.  If it's gonna happen, it'll happen, regardless of how much I stress out about it.
It's an easy thing to think - not so easy to live, especially if you're a control-nut like me.  I need a plan.  I rarely leave the house to run an simple errand without a plan - where to go to first, can I save time by getting everything at one place, should I go here too while I'm out, blahdeblah.  And god forbid I don't have a list.

But when it comes to big things, like, say, moving across the friggin' country, it's so much harder to give it up to fate.  I want it to happen so bad that I fuss and stress and freak right the hell out, and I'm afraid that it's going to ruin the joy of finally getting to go.  Whenever that might be.  (Soon, dammit!)

***

B's been working on a research project for one of his professors back over in Bowling Green this past month, which has delayed us a bit but I'm not complaining because (a) it's money and (b) it's experience on his resume.  We've both been applying to every job we might be remotely qualified for, in every place in Oregon & Washington that we might like to live (Portland, Vancouver, Seattle, Eugene, Corvallis, and every little town in between) - I keep telling myself that competition in the job market is ree-frakking-diculous right now, that there are x-times as many people applying for all of these openings as there might be in normal economic times, and that every rejection email (or no response at all) isn't a reflection on us.  It's really hard not to take it personally though.

We still have some options open to us though, to just go and figure out the rest when we get there, but we still have some obligations here to fulfill.  Besides, driving through South Dakota in August is not my idea of a good time, so maybe closer to fall would be better anyway...

I just keep telling myself all of these things - let it happen... don't take it personally... we still have options... but it can still be overwhelmingly difficult to deal with sometimes.

I don't know what it is! But it's staring me right in the face!

Monday morning I was feeling a bit... snippy.

B: Are you okay?

J: Yeah.  No.  I don't know.

B: What's the matter?  Can I help?

J: I don't know.

B: Sweetie, you can talk to me... maybe talking to me will help you figure it out.  We can work thr...

J: I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S BOTHERING ME BUT RIGHT NOW IT'S YOU (cue spontaneous combustion)

***

Tuesday afternoon I raided the vending machine at work somewhere around 4 times.

***

Yesterday, I read this incredibly insightful and eye-opening post over at All & Sundry.  DUH.

And today, it's all blatantly and painfully obvious.

Of course, I didn't have a CLUE up til now, despite the fact that the pills I'm on (my 'morning cookies' as B calls them) do, in fact, transition from green to yellow when it's about that time.  I've been wrangling with my pharmacy to refill my prescription too, so there's that little indicator as well.  Among other things.

But I don't know what this stick is up my butt!  And why am I so tired?  I slept well last night... God, my head hurts.

*Sigh*  I'm just so on top of things!

Needless to say, when I stopped at the store for milk last night, I picked up a can of frosting and a box of Saltines too.

(Shut up.)

Creatively Speaking

I've got to start keeping a notebook beside my bed.  Last night I basically wrote an entire post in my head, and do you think I wrote it down or made any note of it at all so I could remember it today?  NO.  Because I'm SMART like that.

I know that it was about writing though, so I guess I'm already off on the right foot.

Several people I read are doing NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) (as opposed to NaBloPoMo which is what I'm doing), and I thought about doing that for, oh, two seconds, before nixing it.  I realized last night that I haven't done any truly creative writing since I'm not sure when.  I do remember writing a poem for an assignment in 6th grade, about my old grey & white cat.  My mother and sister RAVED about it and still bug me to write poetry to this day because of it.  I just remember being mad that my teacher read it out loud in class but didn't get the rhythm of it right - but of course I was too chicken to read it out loud myself so it's my own fault.

I remember writing short stories in grade school (4th grade maybe?) for a collection that our teacher "published" at Kinko's and gave to all of our parents.  I totally don't remember what I wrote but I think it was something about a horse.  Which isn't surprising; I was a bit of a horse nut when I was a kid.  But through high school and college, I remember writing a LOT of reports, and LOT of research papers, and a LOT of articles for journalism classes, but nothing really creative.

Some might argue that my blog could be considered creative, but it's not - it's not a product of my imagination, it's a product of my life and mind - a journal, not a story.  It's not always entertaining, and I don't necessarily mean it to be.  It's simply an outlet, and what goes on in my head isn't always funny or enlightening or meaningful for other people.  But then I also don't reveal everything that's going on in this particular space, since I link to it from Facebook and my mother and other family members read it, so that itself may be limiting it's entertainment value.  But I'm not that brave yet.

But back to my point: ultimately, no.  I'm not a creative writer.  Could I be?  Maybe.  I haven't tried.  Do I want to?  Maybe.  It's not something I've thought about, it's not on my Bucket List or even my weekend To-Do.  Will I give it a shot?

......

Do or Die

I've been meaning to write this for a while now. It's my Bucket List. I was finally inspired enough today to stop and think about all the things I want to do or see or try or learn in my lifetime, and this is what I've come up with so far... and I get the feeling that this is just the beginning.

See Live:

Flogging Molly on St. Patrick’s Day

Handel’s Messiah at Christmas

Kenny Chesney

Alison Krauss

Penn & Teller

A Seahawks game

An NHL game (no team preference at this point)

A bluegrass festival

An honest-to-god Highland Games

Travel to:

The Outer Banks, NC

Walt Disney World/Orlando (again)

Greece (Art History Tour)

Italy (Art History Tour)

Paris (Art History Tour)

British Isles (Art History Tour)

New Zealand

Bryce, Zion, Grand Canyon, American SW

Yosemite National Park

All the lakes/places Dad liked to go (Fly Fishing Tour)

Christmas Island (Fly Fishing Tour)

Boston – Sam Adams Brewery Tour

San Francisco – New Belgium Brewery Tour

Try:

Snowboarding

Sea kayaking

Hike-In Camping

Cooking a turkey

A new food or recipe once a month at least.

Learn to:

Ride a horse again

Quilt

Crochet/knit

Make cheese

Sew clothing, not just handbags

Live in (possibly):

Bend, OR

Any little coast town in WA or OR

Virginia or Maryland (Chesapeake Bay)

Chicago

Sandpoint, ID

Montana

Do:

Throw an honest-to-god dinner party that doesn’t involve chips & salsa

Design & build our own energy-efficient & eco-friendly house

Use my camera more, and try selling photos & other crafty things on Etsy

Be in shape enough to run for an hour at a steady pace

Contribute to a CSA or Farmer’s Market

Run an animal sanctuary for pets that wouldn’t be adopted otherwise

Own & operate a gift shop in a touristy town, selling my handmade items

Stop drinking pop, and start drinking more wine

Work for a college/university in the art department, event coordinator, sustainability, whatever

Have a house-rabbit, and chickens, and maybe a pygmy goat

Have a big, sunny, airy studio in the upper story of a barn

Take a pottery class

Take a stained glass class

Get at least one meaningful tattoo

Daisy, give yourself away...

The past couple of days I've become conscious of the fact that every morning, without fail, I have a random song stuck in my head. Sometimes it's there as soon as I wake up, sometimes it pops in my head while I'm in the shower, sometimes while I'm doing my makeup. I've decided to Tweet about this phenomenon every day to keep track of it (maybe create an iTunes playlist based on it?) and see what, if anything, it tells me about myself and the craziness in my head.

So since this past Wednesday, it's been the following:

John Mayer - Daughters

The Killers - Human

Switchfoot - Daisy

So what does this tell me?

#1 -- When 'Daughters' popped into my head while showering on Wednesday, I realized that the lyrics are really kind of screwed up. The bridge goes like this:

Boys, you can break

Find out how much they can take

'Cause boys will be strong

Boys soldier on

But boys would be gone without warmth

from a woman's good, good heart

This is a truly ridiculous statement to make. Boys are tough, you can berate them and beat them down and they're like the Energizer Bunny, they'll just keep on going! Ugh. Bullshit. I don't think I even need to say anything more.

But why did this come into my head? Maybe to reiterate the fact that I need to have a warmer heart, especially towards B...?

#2 -- Are we human, or are we dancer? I have no clue what this means. Am I human? I'm not a dancer, I know that much. Although it'd be fun to take some ballroom lessons with B maybe...

#3 -- Let it go, Daisy let it go

Open up your fists, this fallen world

Doesn't hold your interest, doesn't hold your soul

Daisy let it go

Why do I care so much about what other people think of me, of the work I do, of the life I live? This fallen world doesn't hold my soul... I need to worry about ME, about MY happiness and who I am. I think. Sounds good, anyway.

Psychoanalyzing yourself isn't very easy, especially through somewhat incongruous song lyrics. To be continued...

Are you going to GLUE my life back together or something?

I finally grew a pair and went to a therapist today.  It's been a long time coming, and really I should have done it a long time ago!  But I'm stubborn and a bit of a control freak (shut up!) and have always been one to manage my issues myself.  I ask for help when it comes to moving something heavy or using power tools, but when it comes to my personal life... well, that's why it's personal.  But I've realized that I'm changing... and I don't necessarily like who I'm changing into.  So I'm hoping to nip that in the bud and get back to who I really am.  

But right now I'm not going to go into any detail about all of that - my point in this post is that I'm not too sure about this particular therapist, and I'm hoping to get a little feedback.  She's nice, and I felt okay talking to her, but I also felt mildly uncomfortable.  Not really with her, or her technique, or her personality, but with her office.  It was such a huge mess!  It appears that she works with children, or mothers, as there were toys all over.  I couldn't see the top of her desk at all - papers, books, mugs, drink bottles, dying plants, and just stuff (a random bottle of Elmer's Glue?) covered every horizontal surface.  Her chairs were horribly uncomfortable, and the clock was right above my head with a really loud ticker, and I couldn't find anything to focus my attention on except that stupid bottle of glue, so I kind of felt like I wasn't welcome or something.  In the back of my mind I was thinking, and she's going to help me get my shit together?  Looks like she could use some help herself!  Which is kind of mean I guess, but seriously, the state of her office kind of made me wonder about her professional abilities.

But since this was my first time ever visiting a counselor or therapist, I'm wondering if this is maybe par for the course?  Are the tidy, comfortable, zen-like therapist's offices only on TV?  Or should I be looking for someone new, with some level of organizational skills?  I know I should keep looking if I truly feel uncomfortable, but do I?  Or am I just being nitpicky and anal?  (Har har.  Shut up.)

Inspiration

I'm not a mom, but dammit if I don't love reading mommy-blogs.  I think that's pretty obvious if you're familiar with any of the names in my list.  I love reading them because these women are real, and funny, and really, really funny.  Seeing the little blue RSS notification button on my toolbar light up means that Amalah, Sundry, Mr. Lady, Mommy's Martini, Redneck Mommy or any of a growing number of my favorite writers has published a new post, and that just makes me all sorts of happy inside.  Not just because it helps me kill a little time at work, but because they are truly fantastic writers, strong women, and inspiring to me in many, many ways.  

(The daddy bloggers too!  Dad Gone Mad and Laid Off Dad and Pet Cobra and Captain Dumbass, you all rock my boat too!)

What's ironic is I'm afraid of becoming a mom.  Babies scare the living daylights out of me.  Not in an axe-murderer-jumping-out-of-the-closet way, but in a fragile-and-valuable-as-a-damn-Ming-vase-and-I'm-a-klutz-and-sometimes-a-dumb-blonde way.  I'm scared of dropping them, making them sick, forgetting them, or otherwise screwing up their development in some irreversible way.  Once they hit the somewhat-communicative-and-made-of-rubber stage, I think I'd be okay.  But up until that point, yikes and yowza.

(Also yikes and yowza on my over-use of hyphens.)

But when I read the writings of these women (and men), I can see that I'm not the only one who's afraid, klutzy, nervous, and overall not perfect.  I now I see the benefit to that.  Sometimes it's good to be bad - if being a "bad" mother means more relaxed, more confident, more able to put my whole self into loving and teaching and caring for a child - rather than stressing and freaking that I didn't do something right or that I'm not living up to someone else's expectations of what a "good" mother is.

I'm not saying I'm going to run home and throw out the little blue pills in my medicine cabinet, but I'm encouraged, and maybe a little bit less afraid.  Thanks, ladies.

(Oh and B thanks you too!)

Motivation for this post comes from this one by Her Bad Mother, and subsequent writings and comments.)