When life happens, I want to be there

As usual this holiday has inspired me to reflect on my experiences, my relationships, my health and my overall life perspectives.  I like to start with the shortest time frame, the closest things, and build out from there.  Generally this approach ensures I end on a positive note.  Maybe it’s the distance or the time that’s passed that allows me more of an open-minded outlook and more permission to view the older, wider scope stuff as positives.  That’s neither here nor there I guess so here we go…

Starting with the near and dear, this year feels like it’s been a rough one.  If nothing else, it’s been a change packed one and we all know how I do with change! Growing pains indeed!!!  I moved my home; lost a dear friend; changed jobs; welcomed my new nephew home J; had neck surgery; and got some life-changing news about my mom.   Those were the doozies.  Sprinkled through were the little things: I celebrated three years sober; I got to hear stories from some awesome women and be inspired by their strength again and again; I went camping with my husband, then with friends, then with more family; I giggled a lot with too many friends and family to count; I enjoyed the ups and downs of my high school divers and celebrated their new skills; Notre Dame is #1 and going for the National Championships in a couple short weeks, and I was there with my dad, bro and husband to watch them beat USC; I wore a crown on my birthday on a hiking trail; I reacquainted with friends of old; I was able to clean up a little more of the wreckage of my past and continue to feel more and more at peace with others; I got to enjoy a rad cousin day; I heard just last week my brother has delivered three babies (WHAT!!!??? He’s really going to be a doctor!); I called my mom and sister almost every weekday morning and heard them and the kiddos in all their morning glory.  I could keep going but suffice it to say life is happening and the coolest part is I’ve been there to experience it! 

If I take a walk away from all that and turn around to see the bigger, broader view, I’m just in complete and total awe at the gifts and love that seem to have been poured straight down on my head in the past year or 4 or 33.   I see how lucky and blessed I am.  Certainly in light of all the traumas and hardships that are happening around the world, my ‘changes’ seem luxurious and inspired.  My heart aches for those in pain, experiencing injustice and stricken with loss.  I want to fix the wrongs and the hurts and the grief, but of course I can’t.  It makes me wonder how I got so lucky.  I used to ask God why a lot.  “Why me God?  Why is it so hard God?  Why can’t it be different God?  Why can’t I just quit God?”  I had to stop asking why in order to allow myself to just live and do the next right thing.  So now as I’m asking “How did I get so lucky God?” it occurs to me that I just don’t get to know the why’s and how’s of life.  I’m discovering that it’s in the not knowing that I’m enabled to live in today and simply do the next indicated thing.  Truth is I can’t know when someone will need my help or even if I'll be able to help them when they do, but so long as I show up and remain present, you bet your butt I’ll be there when life happens.   

All the love during this holiday season and happy reflections to you!!!

Fat is NOT a feeling! - HFC Day 16

Eating disorders are not about weight. But so often people express that they feel ‘fat’. What feelings have you really been experiencing when you have said you feel fat? Or what do you think lie beneath the surface of others who express this. You can write directly in response to this blog prompt or why not alter it and look at your emotional experience of eating disorders – what did you feel? How did you know which emotion you felt? Why is it important to be aware of your emotions?

It is perfect that this was yesterday’s challenge, because yesterday I decided I was willing to weigh myself.  I very rarely weigh myself and sometimes I have to force myself to get on the scale just to ensure I’m not letting ED get away with anything ‘under the hood’ so to speak.  So I checked in with the scale yesterday, did not like what I saw and actually laid on the floor for a few moments before I could collect myself enough to carry on with my day.  It’s incredibly strange, even to a bulimic like me, how just a number can take hold of my emotions and feel so threatening and damning.  Two minutes before I weighed, I talked to my husband about needing to do it.  I gave myself a whole bunch of affirmations, felt great about my fitness level and body overall, and BAM! the number shot it all away.  The cool part is that I did NOT have to have a horrible day yesterday.  In fact, I was able to feel pretty darn confident and even like my reflection in the mirror.  What!!!!????  Nothing short of a miracle. 

For as long as I can remember, ‘that number’ directed my mood and my ability to walk through a day.  If the number wasn’t lower, I felt fat.  If I felt fat, that meant a whole bunch of bad.  It meant I wasn’t pretty, likeable, friend worthy, capable, intelligent, talented, lovable, forgivable, ugh - all goodness gone.  Feeling fat was my blanket holding and covering all my fears, insecurities, brokenness and anger.  I think I was challenged by every single one of my treatment providers with “Fat is not a feeling.  What are you feeling?  What’s inside?”  This was always frustrating to me.  I’m not sure what triggered me to decide that the feelings I had were not okay, but I decided it.  I couldn’t find a neat spot for the mess of emotions I had before ED, and they were too embarrassing to tell those I trusted the most.  I needed a hiding place for my feelings and that place became my eating disorder.  Once I hid my feelings there and found it to be an extremely effective safe zone, I became comfortable with it.  Saying “I feel fat” was completely okay with me.  I didn’t have to go any deeper and find unwanted truths or share hidden secrets from my past.  “I feel fat” was enough to keep the topic right there on the surface.  Of course, the time came when this was crippling to me, and it began to kill me.  I didn’t know how to go deeper.  I was so alone and I couldn’t find any number on the scale that would take away the fat feeling.   I know the reason I couldn’t shake it was because it wasn’t about fat at all.  It was about what was going on in my head, heart and soul. 

So yesterday, I freaked for a minute, regrouped and got my program on.  I told myself a mantra (borrowed from a friend and program) just for times like this ‘Take care of the spiritual and the mind and body will follow.’  I went over this as I got ready for work and as I drove in.  I also gave my sister a ring to commiserate about our God given ‘heavy genes’.  Upon walking from my car to the office, I connected with gratitude.  I thought about how blessed I am in my life today, how much I love my husband and family and friends, how I have a wonderful ability to show up for life today and how my body allows me to do that.  By the time I sat down at my desk, I had a smile on my face and I felt beautiful.  


I know!  Recovery is cool. 

Crimes against Clients - HFC Day 14

Share your experiences about a professional or professionals (doctor, therapist, nurse etc.) that had a negative impact on your recovery. How did they make you feel? Did you speak with them about this? How did they respond? How did they impact you? How did you recover from that experience? How did you learn to seek help and trust professionals again?

This is a shaky one for me.  In my letter to medical professionals (Day 6) I expressed my frustration with my treatment over the years but also my gratitude for all the men and women who have treated me.  I believe that all my experiences, good and bad, have made me the recovery woman I am today.  I know that everyone I come in contact with is a teacher – some of what to do, some of what NOT to do.  Either way, I can learn from everyone.  Back in the throws of bulimia, I didn’t see it that way.  When a professional (aka role model) showed disease behavior, I took away bad habits and negative massages and fit them right onto me.  A lot of times I knew I was self-sabotaging and wanted to bring the pain.  Other times I was competitive or seeking attention.   Occasionally, that “I’ll show you how sick I am” mentality drove me.  In the most dangerous times, I just had no fight left and I was giving up. 

So, you may be wondering what made some folks such bad examples.  My perception may be off and my disease certainly filtered things said and done differently back then, but the number one reason I decided a professional was not worth my effort to recover was inconsistency.  If the message of the professional was inconsistent with their behavior, I was done.  The most obvious example I have is one therapist who owned a day treatment center and was my primary therapist.  This was an eight hour a day, five day a week deal, and I was a patient there for over two years.  I saw so much of this therapist that I could tell you what she would say next, if she was in a good or bad mood, and how she was doing with her food.  She was a recovery anorexic, or maybe just an anorexic.  Here was the inconsistency.  She spent all day, every day, telling us to embrace our bodies, sharing professional opinions, encouraging us to eat balanced and nourish ourselves while she did none of it herself. 

If I could go back now, I would ask her why she only ate 150 calories for lunch every day and how that made any sense to eat during our sessions.  I would show her that my meal of 500 calories, made no sense next to hers.  I would ask her why she got plastic surgery and showed off her cleavage at work while telling us we were perfect just as we were.  I would challenge her to explain her significant weight loss after her husband left against her claim that we did not have to use food to cope with any and all circumstances.  I would call to her attention that we were all competing with HER!  I would share my anger and confusion towards her and her behavior.  I would explain my pain in all its depth and tell her I wanted to be free.  I would walk away from two years of a dead end pursuit and look for help and hope in someone who had recovery.

I spent years being angry at this therapist.  I felt that I had lost so much time being sick because of her.  I don’t feel that way anymore.  I learned a lot from that experience.  Today, I interview my doctors and therapists.  They are working for me after all.  If I don’t find hope in their story, sense in their methods, or most important to me consistency in their words and actions, I find a new professional.  This has served me well and I am my own mental health advocate.  I tell a doctor or therapist when something doesn’t seem right or when I’m just not feeling comfortable with my progress.  I have learned what I don’t want in my treatment, so now I’m finding what I do.  

Choose between 1 and 10 people, alive or dead, who you feel are or were positive role models. What are their names? Tell us a bit about them. What do you admire them for? How do they inspire you?

1.  Grandma Frances - My grandma and my namesake.  Classy and quirky all in one.  She was athletic and smart and easy to laugh and delighted in victory.  She played a mean game of horse rummy and took no mercy, even on eight year olds.  She played basketball when she was seventy some years old.  She was deaf and never apologized for raising her voice to an accidental yell in public.  She could be quiet too.  She could sit in the sun and nap and read for hours.  She made the most delicious peanut butter cookies and had a way of making root beer floats the most exciting grandma treat EVER.

2.  Mr. Nish - My high school cross-country coach.  This is going to sound strange but the most overwhelmingly amazing gift that Mr. Nish gave was listening.  He was the greatest listener I have ever come across and it's no surprise he was the most popular and beloved teacher at my high school.  From what I hear, he still is.  All of us want to be heard and when we are, we don't forget it.

3.  Father Roberto - A priest I very recently met who has the most contagious smile I've ever caught.  He can share and lend joy to anyone within moments.  His eyes are clear and his gaze is free of doubt.  He is joy, embodied.

4.  My sister and brother - My best friends and the greatest siblings anyone could ever have.  My brother and sister taught me how to stick by the ones you love, no matter what.  They taught me how to forgive in the purest sense.  No love is lost, the harm is left behind and the bond gets stronger with time.  I don't know where they learned this stuff, but I know I learned it from them.  

5.  Mom and dad - They never ever gave up on me and will never ever stop teaching me how to live.  My most natural desire is to be with others, to socialize and enjoy the company of others.  I love people and I love the relationships I've formed today.  I have learned to communicate and to add to a relationship because my parents have always sought to give more than take to one another and to the people around them.  They are my examples of married life and the finest I know. 

My Mascot - Hungry for Change - Day 3

Woo!  This brings me back to all those art therapy sessions.  I loved art therapy even though I’m a terrible artist.  It was one time I felt like there was no right answer and I didn’t have to try to be the best at it because it was all from our own experiences that our creative pieces came.  I thought they were all beautiful.  After looking at the other mascots chosen for the third day of the Hungry for Change May challenge https://www.facebook.com/hungryforchange, I have to say I haven’t changed a bit.  I find them all so beautiful!

My eating disorder recovery mascot is now, from today, A DIVER.  

In some sense it has been my mascot for years but I certainly didn’t call it that.  This picture is a perfect representation of my diving mascot for a couple reasons.  One is that she’s diving from a springboard.  I have developed a springboard diving metaphor for life.  It goes a little something like this…

In diving just about 90% of the dive’s success depends on the work that is done on the board.  You take careful steps, maintain strong and balanced posture, drive all your weight and power into the board to push it down and you up just so, and carefully time your arms and second push so that the board will seamlessly fling you up into the air and safely away from the board.  The success of the rest of your dive, however simple or complicated, will absolutely be affected by how well you’ve executed your board work.  The best part is in the freedom that comes after you’ve essentially catapulted yourself into the air.  If you’ve done it right, there’s not a whole lot you can do to mess it up.  If you’ve done it wrong, you might be saying some prayers as you come closer to hitting the water!  Either way you basically get to enjoy the ride and probably get a lot of laughs if it turns out to be more of a painful go.  Life is this way for me today in recovery.  I do the footwork and keep the ‘plug in the plate’ (as a good friend of mine likes to say), and I get to experience a freedom that welcomes all kinds of unexpected pains and pleasures.  What a thrill!

Before recovery, I knew what the day would bring – misery.  Today I have no idea what the future holds, so I continue to put one foot in front of the other and watch the results as they are revealed around me.   

The second reason I like this picture for my mascot is that she is doing my favorite type of dive, a twister.  This is my favorite because it’s both extremely complicated and fairly impossible to ‘think’ about.  You have to just do it and trust that your body knows how to take care of the dynamics in the air.  In diving this is called muscle memory and it takes some time to build up but once you’ve got it you learn to absolutely rely upon it.  In eating disorder recovery, this is compared to intuitive eating, turning away from the magnificent magnifying mind in the mirror, and the human instinct to survive no matter what.  The body know best and I have come to enjoy the freedom I get when I trust that. 

I’m built strong and healthy.  My body is able and capable.  My recovery allows me to take some pleasure, joy and comfort in that.  No more fighting.  I’m doing the work; I think I’ll enjoy the ride. J

  

I just love this picture.  I wish we still wore suits like this!!!

How to die gracefully

A lesson from Tina Diaz.

My sponsee in recovery died of cancer Sunday night at 11:10pm.  She was 2 years and 4 months sober and absolutely LOVED LIVING LIFE.  When I met her, she was in remission and just beginning a new journey in sobriety.  Just a short time later, the cancer showed up again and she fought hard to survive another bout.  Sadly she has passed, but not without leaving behind tons of memories and a bit of her tenacious spirit in all who loved her.  Over the past year, I’ve heard myself say on several occasions something like, “If there’s a way to die well, Tina’s doing it”.   

Throughout her fight, she spent all her stored energy experiencing brand new adventures.  She was one mighty woman!  She won a scavenger hunt and danced at my wedding.  A memory I will never forget.  She parasailed, went on retreats, threw birthday parties for her family (played in the bounce houses herself!), let it loose in Disneyland, and all sorts of other things.  She lived! 

From her sick bed, she would send us out from our visits saying things like "Go get a newcomer ladies!"  She wanted everyone to get the life and freedom she found in recovery.  She had a clear purpose to share her story with other alcoholics and she never passed up a chance to reach out to someone in pain.  She inspired so many women to admit their problems were not so big, to swallow hard, to suit up and to help someone out.  If Tina could, they could too. 

She was a fierce mother and so loved both her children and her grandchildren.  She would do anything for any of them and didn’t bat an eye to defend them.  She would get this ‘don’t mess with my kid’ face on if someone began to cross a line, and if her accent returned, oh man, watch out!  Her family surrounded her in her final moments.  She was a blessed woman.

She loved having prayers sent her way.  It was like she could feel them comforting and energizing her.  You could see her whole body change and her chest expand as she took in the prayers and well wishes sent from her friends.  Occasionally, she would cry while she listened to longer prayers.  It was as if the longer ones filled her up so much that she overflowed in tears.  The way it moved her was so inspiring that I came to find more comfort in prayer than ever before in my life.  She taught me how to pray comfortably, honestly and without reservation.  I was not shy in prayer with Tina.  She was a woman of awesome faith and she showed me how to carry my own faith with more grace and confidence.  She told her friends and family that when the time came for her to go from this life, she would not be afraid.  She would be filled with love and taken home.  What faith!

I am humbled to have ever met Tina and am so grateful for all she taught me.  I hope you can find strength, hope and faith in her story.  She would love you to know more of them all!

“To watch people recover, to see them help others, to watch loneliness vanish, to see a fellowship grow up about you, to have a host of friends -- this is an experience you must not miss.” -BigBook of Alcoholics Anonymous, p.89, Working With Others

“We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny.” -BigBook of Alcoholics Anonymous, p.164, A Vision For You

Hormones

I don’t shy away from PMS talk.  Everyone gets it or knows someone who gets it.  If I didn’t know what was driving the week long crazy train I ride once a month, I would have to seriously consider some extreme treatment options for my ‘problems’.  Believe it or not, I used to get locked up in a psychiatric hospital about once a month when I was in my early 20s.  It was close to six months before anyone realized it was hormone related.  Seems like I should have noticed the pattern, but I was PMSing so give me a break!!!!  Thankfully when they discovered what was up and started treating me for the hormonal symptoms, my trips to the psych ward decreased exponentially.  They didn’t stop altogether, but those are stories for another day.  Fast forward 12 years and I still struggle to stay in good emotional fitness the few days before my period. 

This past week was a doosey.  My husband was traveling for work and I was busy with my own work, coaching and family.  Food called to me from inside the refrigerator; the mirror would scream insults directly into my brain whenever I even glanced at it; I was exhausted and drained but didn’t want to get in bed at night; I ranted on the phone at my husband about his leaving me all alone and then cried when he returned; and I cried once at my desk and once in the middle of a meeting at work.  A total wreck.  Thankfully, after the first day, I knew what I was going through which allowed me to roll with the punches a bit better.  I mean, who cries in the middle of a meeting because the whiteboard hasn’t arrived?!??  A hormonal me, that’s who.  Thankfully I’ve mastered the silent cry and I pulled myself together after a couple minutes… but seriously!!

So here’s how I survive week’s like this past one:

1. Alert my female family members.  This is a serious family trait passed down woman to woman to woman.  I mean we ALL go nuts with our swinging hormones.  We all understand it, and I take great comfort in knowing I come by it all honestly.  Remember that I have a BIG family and as far as I’m aware, no woman in it has a mild cycle.  We all lose our stuff when we PMS.  We all feel closer to mean and ugly, lose our tempers more easily, feel a little lonely and act a little nutty. 
2. Alert my husband.  This is crucial to the continued success of our marriage. J  Seriously though, he has standing permission to remind me that my mood swings and oversensitivity could be due to my period being near.  He treads lightly here and thankfully he’s found a way to insert it at the right moments.  It usually makes me laugh.  He also will listen to me fly off the handle, and I mean all the way off the handle, then say sorry and give me a hug. 
3. Tell my internal morning critic to take a break.  Nothing is gonna look any good on me, according to me, for a few days.  It’s just the way it is, so no need to intentionally start my day with fat and ugly’s.
4. Make certain I keep a sense of humor.  This is huge.  I tell my stories of melt downs and temper tantrums to friends, male and female, because they are funny once I’m through them!  Three of my friends got the whole run down of my twisted, crazy thinking while my husband was away earlier this week.  It was only two nights and I had worked it up into a future lifetime of loneliness!!!  I laughed and laughed as I recounted one of our phone conversations and my subsequent thinking about the whole thing.  What a great release.

So that’s the long and short of it.  Now, if you’re a man and you happened to read all the way to the end of this, I’d like to make a suggestion: Do not pop this up in front of your wife, girlfriend, or sister and tell them they should read it because insert reason here, unless you are ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THEY ARE NOT PMSing AND ARE IN A GOOD MOOD!!!!  Also note that I asked my husband to help me in reminding me about my cycle… tread lightly! J  As for all the ladies out there, I hope you related and find some humor in our shared experiences.  I am so grateful l don’t have to live enslaved by my emotions anymore, and I have learned to take myself far less seriously today than ever before.  A favorite quote of mine growing up was, “Angels can fly, because they take themselves lightly”.  When I let go of my pride and perfectionism, I find such unbelievable freedom, humor, and joy in being a woman..

Keep it simple stupid

Yes, this title sounds harsh.  No, it’s not meant to put anyone down nor is it meant to label anything or anyone stupid.  This is a slogan around recovery communities that isn’t used so much anymore.  It’s usually just said as ‘Keep it simple’, which I admit is a great message by itself.  For me though, the stupid works.  I didn’t always agree that it was a useful saying.  The reason it works for me now and didn’t a few years ago is that my perception, the way I view myself in relation to everything and everyone, has drastically changed.  I used to feel like a little piece of terd.  If someone was trying to help me, but used a slogan with a derogatory term at the end, I took it as a personal offense.  I couldn’t hear the message through the delivery.  I don’t feel smaller or less than anyone today nor do I feel at all unintelligent.  Yet now, more than ever, “keep it simple stupid” really does make good, logical sense.  


The ‘stupid’ reminds me that I must remain teachable.  I heard it said best like this, “You can’t teach someone something they already know.”  I spent years telling people I couldn’t stay sober or stop purging.  I would tell them exactly why that was.  I would tell them what I needed to do if I was ever going to ‘get it’ and then all the reasons and emotions that prevented me from doing any of those things.  Clearly, I was not going to change because I had it all figured out.  I knew all the answers to all my problems and no one could convince me otherwise.  So, neck deep in despair and desperation, I held onto just enough intellectual egoism to stay stuck and miserable.  


Finally, finally, finally, I just didn’t know.  I had no ideas or solutions of my own and couldn’t find any persuasive arguments to excuse myself from trying something different.  It took what it took for me.  I could tell stories upon stories that lead me to the day I ran out of ideas, but I could not begin to guess why it was that day that it happened.  It simply did.  Without answers I began listen to folks who appeared to have them.  Stupid me was the beginning of the me I have become today.  It gave me enough willingness and openmindedness to seek a simple solution.  Thank God I did.  It really is simple! 

Finding my fit

I go around trying to dot my I’s and cross my T’s by doing everything I say I’m going to do and showing up for my friends and family when and where I am needed.  A lot of times it feels like I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to fit myself to everyone else’s schedule.  Sometimes I get overwhelmed.  When I do, I’m at a high risk of quitting everything.  What happens is I get to thinking people are disappointed or angry with me, because I can’t meet all their expectations.  Before long, I get swallowed up by guilt and shame.  Guilt and shame have been the two most paralyzing and dangerous emotions I have experienced in my life.  Enough of either one, and I fall into such self pity, resentment and fear that relief only comes at a great price not only for me but for others as well.  I wallow.  I hide.  I lie.  I lash out.  I self-destruct and take you down with me.  I have endured this enormous, destructive cycle countless times in my life.  Coming out the other side is neither easy nor guaranteed.  I DON'T HAVE TO LIVE THIS WAY ANYMORE.

The truth is that most often I am only guessing that people are disappointed or angry with me.  Even before I get to that, I admit that I am usually the one trying find time to spend with all the people I love in my life because they bring me strength and peace and joy.  So long before I find myself in a world of hurt, I have told myself lies like I am not in control of my own actions or that people have put me on a pedestal of sorts and expect me to be everywhere for everyone.  I have thrown out my own truths and put other people’s opinions of me over my own.  I have forgotten humility and have placed myself at enormous risk.  What people think of me and how much time I give to them decides whether I am a good or bad person.  I've given others all my God given grace that allows me to have my own human experience.  When I embrace my perfectly imperfect humanity, I get to love freely and give generously.  When I don't, I am bitter and alone.  Today when my thoughts get noisy with self-deprecating and berating messages, I can pause and ask for some help and some courage to get off my crazy making cargo train to crappy town and find my right place in this world.  Feet on the ground and eyes wide open, I can go from there and do the best I can, expecting no more than just what that turns out to be.

A long time ago, an elderly man told me this, “We don’t have to fit into shoes that are too big, just our own.”  Now that makes sense and takes the shame and guilt off my heart.  I can only do as much as I can do, and I’m the only one that knows my limits and my intentions.  I answer to the truths I hold within and I can be accountable to others without shame if I fall short of my commitments at any point.  I'm only human after all and I have discovered nobody has mistaken me as anything more... EVER. :) 

What I am

Lately I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions about what I want to be when I grow up.  With that comes a lot of reflection on what I am today.  Thankfully, I’m not asking myself who I want to be or who I am.  That’s probably one of the most convoluted, crazy-making mind games someone can play on themselves.  Who I am will constantly change as I try to grow and as I gain more life experience.  So I guess I know who I am – ever changing.  What I am?  Well, that can be crazy-making too I guess because I am made up of a lot of different pieces and if I’m asking the question, I’m the one deciding which pieces to count!!!  For the purpose of not ranting onto a philosophical tangent, I will keep the ‘what am I’ question confined to my professional world.

As a little girl, I wanted to be the next Olympic superstar, mostly for the fame and notoriety.  As a young teen, I wanted to be a nun, mostly because I had decided that I was a better person than everyone else and should be marked as good and special forever.  In young adulthood, I gave up wanting to be much of anything except cared for and protected and even that felt horrible.  By my mid twenties, I wanted to save all addicts and alcoholics everywhere, because I had gained so much experience with both and believed I could relate to anyone.  This would have seemed a bit more logical if I had been sober myself, but even then it would have been grandiose. J  A couple years later I realized that I had gone kicking and screaming through my whole life to avoid the ordinary.  My efforts had left me jobless, broke and hopeless.  I told myself that what I did would define who I was.  So, I had become completely worthless. 

Thankfully my brother, sister and brother-in-law didn’t just stand aside and let me wallow in my bog of self-pity and depression.  I moved in with my sister and bro-in-law and my brother quickly hooked me up with a friend of his who got me a job as a human resources coordinator.  I hated going to work.  I hated how ‘average’ the work was.  Albeit reluctantly, I showed up day after day (well most days) and before I knew it a year had passed.  My siblings even threw me a one year on the job party because they knew what a big deal it was for me. (Yeah I have the coolest siblings in the world!)  I worked there for over two years and by the end of my time there I had some employable skills.  I did quit my job so I was jobless and close to broke but I was no longer hopeless. 

I don’t think it is a coincidence that I got sober shortly after I left that job and moved back home to California.  Just by holding a job down, I had gained a little hope in myself and some esteem – two things I had not experienced in adulthood.  I had also learned a little humility.  I needed to show up for life no matter how mundane I decided the day would be.  I knew I had to get sober to give myself a chance at showing up consistently again and when I did I learned how to do a whole lot more than that. 

I had a ton of direction my first year of working as a sober woman: “Put your head down and do eight hours work for eight hours pay.”  “Be a worker among workers.”  “Self esteem comes from doing esteemable acts… just do the next right thing.”  “Act better than you feel.”  The daily practice of all these pearls of simplistic wisdom brought me to what I am today.  I’m a good worker.  In the office I am a very able professional.  People like me and easily trust me at work.  I am given more responsibility than my job description dictates, and I welcome it.  I am articulate and capable under pressure.  Flipping to my coaching self, I am an awesome coach.  I think I say awesome because I love doing it so much.  Really, I am responsible.  I am deserving of the trust I am given by both the kids and parents.  I am talented and get to see my kids improve at a rapid pace.

Now, after all that, what do I want to be when I grown up?  Ha!  I still don’t know.  I want to give this public speaking thing a shot and see what journey it will take me on.  I want to be a mother and provide for my family.  I don’t know how those things will mix or work if both are in my future.  What I do know is I will be present.  I will work hard.  I will be one in the mix of so many in this enormous world that try to do good things for it.  I will take comfort in my past experiences and know that no matter what, no matter what, things will change.  In the end, what I am matters very little.  Who I am will be born of the things I do as I continue to put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.  It’s in the doing.

The Dream

I’ve learned that when I tell someone that I’m going to do something, I’m about ninety times more likely to do it than if I keep my intentions to myself.  I’ve had a dream for a long time to become a public speaker.  This dream has never taken shape because I have not made any concrete goals or made consistent efforts towards transforming this dream to reality.  I did enough research to know that blogging and writing is a great first step, but that’s about all I’ve done.  I believe I can be an excellent motivational speaker.  I believe I have the ability to stand up in front of a group, capture an audience, and ultimately inspire hope.  I believe there’s a path for me to follow to get to that end, but I don’t know where to start or how I will find my way.  That said, if I don’t start, well, I’ll never start.  If I never start, I’ll never find a way. 

I’ve fallen off my blog a bit because I couldn’t see a simple way to improve it and to expand its reach.  I have a nasty tendency to believe my perpetually lazy ego that tells me people should want to listen to me and value what I say without my having to show them I’m worth listening to.  Of course, I come to my senses after a bit and realize all I’ve gained is fear and what I’ve lost is time.  Good news is I trust that if I put one foot in front of the other and work steady and true, the time will come for me to realize my dream.  And if I don’t reach the stage or get the audience, I hope it will be because it was not God’s will for me, not because I did not put the work in.  “Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.” –Theodore Roosevelt.  This is worth it.  I still don’t know how to lengthen my reach, but I do know that working hard is the only way I’ll find out. 

Soooo, I’d like to increase my ‘do’ likelihood by 90 times and commit to a few consistent tasks and three goals over the next 1 month.  Here they are:

1.  I will blog 4 times per week no matter the typos or the length of blog.  I will post 4 separate entries a week.
2.  I will spend 1 hour, 4 times per week, researching how to bring more visibility and ‘hits’ to my blog and adjust my blog accordingly.
3. I will respond individually to comments on my blog posts
4. By month’s end, I will be following and participating on 15 other blog sites
5. By month’s end, I will have my blog site reformatted to be more interactive, inviting and intuitive  

Thanks for reading!  

Grateful for Gratitude

I haven’t had much to say for a while.  Life is going on and I’m showing up.  I feel kind of blah I suppose, and I know the cause so it’s not anything I want to fix or feel is going to destroy me inside.  I have certainly had some mornings where I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make all my obligations that day and wanted to stay home more than I wanted to get up.  It sounds a lot like depression, but I know and am comforted that it’s my chronic pain, increased over the last few weeks, that is causing my lackluster attitude.  I’m actually pretty impressed with what I’ve been able to do considering the level of pain I’m in.  I haven’t quit anything or lied to anyone to get out of obligations.  I forgot a meeting with one of the women I work with, but I still got there after she called to remind me about it.  I haven’t looked all that neat and tidy or spunky at work, but I am still getting the job done and receive nothing but positive feedback from my coworkers.  Now, just there, in less than a paragraph, I have found a topic for this blog.  Gratitude!  The power of it is amazing.  When I first started typing I didn’t feel up to the task and now I feel like I could write forever! 

I’m so grateful for so many things in my life today.  First things first is the simple ability to welcome growth and good and then to share it.  This is my own personal definition of gratitude.  I’ve written before about pain being my greatest motivator for change.  I absolutely grow from pain and with it I’m blessed with the good that comes once I’m on the other side.  I’m allowed moments of pain, frustration, disappointment, guilt, shame, and brokenness while still remaining present and aligned with reality.  So if and when I welcome some tough times and deep emotions, I get to experience the growth and the good.  Best of all I get to share it!  Truth is I have to or I get all sick and stupid in the heart and head, but it’s such an experience that I see it as a privilege.  I get to see and experience my life in an entirely different light than ever before and then I get to show others a whole new view of me.

I have a group of five or six female friends who write a daily gratitude list.  10 items a day and it might as well be a million.  The depth of emotion and richness of life we share in those emails is unbelievable.  The only guideline I have for my list is to be honest.  It is a gratitude email chain so I do have to come up with things I’m grateful for but I’m often surprised how that lets everyone in on what’s really happening with me.  I don’t have to see any of these women in person for them to know or for me to know when extra support and encouragement is needed.  It’s a paradox to me because logically I would think that by sharing only things we are grateful for it would mean we write only the simple, happy and good life events, leaving out the rest.  That is not the case!  We see it all, but we see it in the light of gratitude.  What that tells me is that I don’t need to whine and moan and bitch and complain to get support or help.  Why not seek to walk through struggles with the heart and eyes of gratitude?  I’m betting growth, good and companionship will continue to be found on the other side.

I haven't done my email list today so I will start it here.  Enjoy!

1. It’s Friday!!!!  Sleep is on the horizon!
2. I get to see Tina tonight and see the prayer quilt the women’s guild brought to her.
3. My mom asked me to watch her try on the clothes that she is packing for her week away to a wedding.
4. My sister called me this morning and asked when I was going to meet them at the pool.  They’re in Palm Springs!  So wonderful to feel loved.
5. My niece and nephew “love vacation”!
6. Hearing my husband’s work meeting went well in New York and he’s coming home tonight!  Yay.
7. My husband asked me what I want to do for Valentine’s Day in advance.  That’s a miracle!
8. Going shopping this weekend to start my new wardrobe and it’s even in the budget.
9. Even though I couldn’t see my old doctor I do have insurance and will be able to see a doctor that can help.
10. I do not have to fix or control anything in my life today because I know God’s got me.  All I have to do is continue to seek.

When tired takes over…

I got so physically exhausted that on Tuesday of last week I actually heard high pitched screeching in my head.  Tuesday!  I couldn’t see how in the world I was going to get through the rest of the week with that kind of fatigue setting in.  Of course I made it through and into the weekend without some banshee taking over my brain and body, but that took some doing.  When tired I become increasingly emotional and usually experience problems with depression, loneliness, self image, relationships, motivation, work, ambition, the little things, and then strangest of all - sleep!!!  That’s ridiculous by the way- I can’t sleep because I’m too tired?!!!!?????  What?  If things continue and I cross into the dangerous neighborhood of overtired, I lose the ability to hide my increased emotional state.  I might be seen experiencing one or more of the following: spontaneous crying, uncontrollable and/or inappropriate laughter, extreme anger at the suggestion of any sort of change in schedule or routine, inexplicable clumsiness, verbal ranting coupled with a lack of language or content filter, etcetera!   It becomes unmanageable in a hurry and I have found only one cure.  Sleep. 

My family pokes fun at me by calling me a professional sleeper.  It’s what I do best!  Okay it really used to be best if I was sleeping, and I would sleep for fifteen hours at a time for days in a row as an avoidance strategy.  Now, it’s just best if I get the proper amount of sleep.  For me that’s in excess of eight hours a day.  Right about nine hours seems to work best.  I realize that this won’t always be possible.  Actually, it’s already not possible all of time.  What if I have children though?  I don’t think I have ever met a mother who gets eight hours a night.  That’s so scary… for you all that have to deal with me then!!!  Hahahaha!  Seriously though, not only do I experience high emotions and incredible sensitivity, everyone around me gets a very ‘funny’ version of me.  I cannot imagine what my friends and family think during my overtired times.  Oh heck, they are so used to it they’re probably just amused or shrug it off.  But for the folks that haven’t known me so long?  Last week I told our team mom that there was no February 6^th and therefore our team dinner could not possibly happen that day, and I really meant it.  While the head swim coach was retelling the story later that day (he was copied on the emails), I was both uncontrollably laughing and crying real tears.  I also noticed the divers looking at me a bit sideways this past week.  I mean you can’t really miss when your coach starts giggling while talking about the schedule or comes close to falling in the pool a few times during practice.  What a wreck!

At any rate, I am still pretty tired from the last week or two but am beginning to feel some relief.  Strangely, this semi-rested, not quite 100% space is where I get myself in the most trouble.  I feel stronger, present much more sanely, and perform normally at work, but my emotions are still raw and tender.  My reactions continue to be magnified within, and instead of my extremely silly or unglued outward reaction, I can get pointedly mean and hurtful.  I remember a counselor of mine being concerned for my safety back in a particularly dark year of my twenties.  I was a couple days released from a psych ward, and I told her she should not worry because I was feeling a whole lot better than a few days before.  She gently replied that her concern was precisely because of my slight progress.  She acknowledged my improved cognitive reasoning and more groomed appearance but reminded me that I had struggled to find a reason to get out of bed that morning and then had experienced road rage and extreme jubilation within an hour of that.  She noted the imminent danger of my road rage transferring to rage towards myself, not to mention the danger it brought to other drivers as it was.  She reminded me that before being committed to the psych ward a few days prior, I had possessed no energy at all to do anything, including take my own life.  Now, in this ‘recovery stage’ I certainly had energy enough to accomplish that if I was hit sideways just right.  I absorbed her point and apply her message today.  I am watching myself closely and making a concerted effort not to step on too many toes or entertain any hopeless thoughts for too long.  Self pity is a luxury I can’t afford much on any day but in these times I must air it out quick, or else. 

Every doctor I’ve ever seen for anything has stressed the importance of sleep for a girl like me.  I am fairly certain they would say that to anyone.  So take advice from someone who knows: when tired takes over, just let it.  Get some sleep.

A Holiday Reflection

Christmas brings up a lot of memories and emotions for me as my family and friends commune with food and gifts and celebrate life.  I am so amazed today as I reflect on this past year and feel loved, comfortable and joyful.  I have spent many holidays with bitterness in my heart and in overwhelming fear.  Today my heart is open and my life has become filled with new opportunities.  I would never have guessed this life for me nor could I have made it possible.  I know that what did make it possible was some amazing women showing me how to be a woman of integrity and to walk with grace, my family that is my rock and teaches me to never give up and that no obstacle is too large to overcome, my recovery community that doesn’t kick a man when he’s down and welcomes every person with open arms, and my husband who continues to forgive my shortcomings, shares belly laughs with me and treats me with dignity and love as his partner in life.  In and through all of these is God who is loving, forgiving, gentle, frank, powerful, and ALWAYS present.

This year I’ve found a slower pace to life.  I finally learned that I cannot do everything and even admit that I don’t want to.  I don’t need to solve anyone’s problems nor am I able to.  I took a small step back from the front line and let the rest of the world hash out their troubles on their own.  I was of course ‘nudged’ into this support role with an injury and some pain that prevented me from doing a few things.  Funny though, I don’t think I missed out at all.  My year’s been super full and I have come to enjoy the down times so much that many of my rougher days have been the ones where resting just wasn’t an option. 

Anger arrived this year.  I didn’t count on recovery bringing both positive and negative feelings to the surface, but it did.  I figured I had enough depression and angst, so getting clean and sober would just add happy stuff.  Well, I was wrong.  I found out that I can be quick to anger and once angry a cycle takes over that I’ve yet to stop.  It runs its course as a kind of tantrum and I emerge with an emotional hangover and a few apologies to make.  I usually become upset by all sorts of little tiny things that just aren’t going my way.  Then, I blame someone for all the hardships in my life.  Then, some yelling and tears and finally the emotional melt down.  The truth is I can see that I work myself up to these ‘episodes’.  I generally am over tired and in some physical pain to begin with that I don’t admit or take care of.  This leads to me feeling sorry for myself, which leads me to self-righteous thinking and to believing that I’m not getting what I need from anyone or anything.  Finally, I land right at irrational anger.  Oh boy.  Where did I get the ball rolling? It’s easy to see on paper.  Probably should have just put some ice on my neck and napped for a half an hour.  Ha! 

I continue to see that I love love love people.  As far as I know, the energy I get from enjoying the company of friends and family is like no high in the world.  I can remember the opposite being true just a few years back.  The mere thought of family gatherings made my stomach turn.  I didn’t want to face any of them.  I was filled with shame and guilt and fear.  Today, I am inspired and awakened by the people around me and this year was packed with loved ones gathering and celebrating: Easter, my wedding, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas and any old day in between. 

Most of all, a bit of stability has entered my life in 2011 and it feels so good!  I’m not bored.  I’m less tired.  My life has more options than ever before.  I am showered with love on a daily basis.  I know pain and don’t have to suffer.  I am provided for no matter what, no matter what.  Most things I recognize as neither good nor bad but just as they are.  A wise woman had me write down and carry with me this quote, “It is what it is and that’s just the way it is.”  I don’t have to wonder or ask why tragedies happen or why some people seem to have it so easy.  I just don’t know and never will.  God knows and God is good.  I truly believe that everything in this world happens for a reason and that my purpose is in the acting and the giving, not in the thinking or receiving.  No reason has been reason enough for me to take a drink or drug, to bury myself in food, to cut my own body, or to hide in an institution.  My options today are wide open, but my solutions are God driven.  One day at a time, all year long, all life long, I will continue to seek.  

Never never never quit

Many times in my adult life, my goals and dreams just seemed unattainable.  I would become overwhelmed with the number of steps or obstacles in the way of a goal, and would decide to quit and dream another day.   A lot of years operating this way and I had lost my desire for all things new and had gained enormous shame, guilt and regret.  Along the way I told myself I was a survivor having been dealt a tough hand.  I told myself that the success I had achieved in my childhood was brought through my incredible talent, toughness, drive and perseverance but I could no longer measure up due to tragic circumstance.  I didn’t want to admit or even think that I had become a quitter.  It took a lot of pain and complete desperation before I could see that.   The truth was I had been blessed with natural talent but that was where my success story began and ended.

I won the lottery as far as God-given gifts are concerned.  From the start, I had a personality that craved kinesthetic stimulation; I was good at most things I tried; I was naturally bright; I liked people so they usually like me; my family nurtured all my needs and encouraged every dream I had.  Later, my story was that I was misunderstood and had been pushed too hard to do things I didn’t want to do, I was emotionally repressed and the equivalent of a trophy child.  My story was total crap.  I created my drama and my hardships, but through the years I leaned on my story for comfort in times of failure.  Therapists were excellent at co-signing my bull shit.  I developed the lie and made it so believable that I came to believe it!  I hurt and bled by it!!! 

The progression of all this was sadly simply.  The first time I threw up intentionally it was a conscious decision and I had a plan.  After vomiting, I would call my best friend and tell him in order to get more attention from him.  At the time, the attention I wanted more of was on the friend level.  At sixteen, I had the same angst that most sixteen year olds had.  As everything and everyone around me was changing and developing at the same time, it took focus and attention away from me.  Life showed up with a few deaths of loved ones, two at their own hands, and I felt lost and alone.  All I wanted was a little more attention and some comfort from my peers.  So when I told my friend what I had done and received disappointment and a stern lecture instead of sympathy and understanding, I was really angry.  I didn’t tell anyone else.  Instead I made another decision to throw up more, believing that if I did and it became frequent enough my friend would have to notice and care.  

I knew nothing about addiction and certainly had no idea that I would soon be a bona fide addict.  Within two months I knew I had lost control and could not stop puking.  Within a year I had started drinking.  Within two years, I knew I was an alcoholic, a bulimic, and majorly depressed.  I became isolated and angry, and I could not cope with life.  My solutions didn’t make sense to me let alone other people.  The next few years drained me of any usefulness.  It went a little something like this: I’m uncomfortable in my new school and struggling to make new friends.  Bring me home and let me rest a semester.  You tell me I can’t dive.  Lock me in a psych ward.  I’m failing school.  Send me away.  You sent me away.  I'm never going back to school.  You say I have to go to work when I’m depressed.  I quit!  You don’t love me and you think I’m mean.  I’m an awful human and I hate you too!  I have no friends and my family is always worried.  I want to die!  You want to help me.  You can’t. it’s too late.  I’m hopeless. 

Thirteen years after that first decision to vomit, I considered my choices: end my life or continue to live my miserable one.  My trips to the psych wards and rehabs had become normal.  For me it was easier to be institutionalized than it was to function in the free world.  ‘Hanging on’ for another few years just didn’t seem possible.  By no virtue of my own, I managed to hold on just long enough.  

Almost three years ago, a woman came into my life and taught me how to show up and be present every day for days and days in a row!  I learned how to act better than I felt, to do what I said I would do, and to put one foot in front of the other no matter what.  Somewhere along the way, I developed a sense of perseverance.  I gained my spirit and my self-esteem back through right actions.  I lost the shame, the guilt and have no regrets.  You see, what I didn’t know back when I was lost in it all was that all was not lost.  I didn’t know that I could and would accomplish more in this life than I could even dream up.  I didn’t know that one step would bring me to a new point of view with new strength and new purpose.  When I went back to school and was close to getting my degree, my brother kept telling me to just get a win.  I didn’t realize that this idea would carry me through almost all of life’s challenges.  Take one step and be amazed at what the next one will look like.  By receiving my diploma, I opened my future to a whole new life and all new dreams.  From there I began another journey which spring boarded me into another and another and another.  I got sober and had no idea what I wanted to do or be, but I found that answer too.  The woman that taught me so much three years ago said this, “I have never found my purpose by thinking about what my purpose is.  It’s only in taking some action and doing something that I realize I have a purpose”.  It was through my actions and the little wins that I found all my dreams were possible.

Today I dream big and keep my purpose simple.  I try one day at a time to do the next right thing, to seek and share my truth and to never never never quit.  Every day I find time to love, laugh and pray.  It’s a dream come true.

My first Thanksgiving as an in-law

I’m not sure how many people come from the polar opposite family environment as their spouse, but it sure seems like a lot of us.  My family is at least 65 strong, counting only two generations (aunts/uncles and cousins).  My husband’s family is 3 strong.  People usually ask how in the world my husband survives my side’s events, but honestly he seems to love it.  The noise, activity, competitiveness, lack of attention on one person for too long, and more noise has somehow suited him from day one.  My mom is one of 11 kids who made me 30 first cousins who made their own babies.  My dad is one of four kids who made me 19 first cousins who made a lot of their own babies.  Also, my dad and his siblings grew up in a machine shop and their mother went deaf young so shouting is talking to them.  Again, it’s a lot of noise. 

My husband, mother-in-law and sister-in-law actually speak loudly and passionately most of the time, but the difference is you can actually hear and understand and respond to everything they’re expressing.  It’s exhausting.  Haha!  Who knew three people could be more tiring to mingle with than 50?!  This thanksgiving, after a lifetime of practicing how to stay lightly involved in multiple conversations at once and rallying into as many games as are played in one holiday day lest I might miss something, I experienced down time and the choice to either sit up, eat and watch TV or lie down and sleep.  The strangest part is that I felt slightly uneasy most of the weekend.  Certainly having traveled out of state and sleeping in the living room meant I was out of my comfort space but I didn’t expect to feel claustrophobic.  I really felt watched and I am absolutely positive it was my imagination.  At one of my family’s holiday parties you might have 10+ eyes on you at any given moment and the max there would have been 6!  So clearly, I was feeling overly sensitive and out of touch.

I have been taught (no, I did not know this) that change is hard no matter whether it’s good change or bad change.  The thing is that the trip was overall pretty wonderful.  While I missed my family a lot over the holiday, I made sure I called them to hear their celebration and played a lot of memories through my mind with a smile.  At Thanksgiving dinner, I was able to give thanks with a love-filled heart and experience my new family in a new way.  I got to see more clearly than ever that my husband is the man in his family and both his sister and mother look up to him with complete love, pride and confidence.  It’s an unbelievable thing to watch and a blessing to be a part of.  I realized too how seldom I recognize the strength of his family in our lives.  They are as vital a part of our marriage and its success as my family.  So the score is tied: 3 to 50.

J

I’m going to be the next…

When I was a little over 4 years old, Mary Lou Retton won the 1984 All-Around Olympic gold medal in gymnastics.  I don’t remember actually watching her win on live TV or anything, but for the next 7 years I relived her moment of glory over and over and over again.  I watched our home taped VHS of that meet hundreds of times.  My sister and I still repeat what the announcers were saying throughout.  Two of our favorite lines, “She runs like Carl Lewis and smiles like Brooke Shields.” and “Mary Lou, how do you do?!”.  We knew her routines.  We knew the other competitors routines.  We knew the back stories. We knew what her coach said and how he lifted her up in celebration.  We were her biggest fans and probably still are.

I used to draw pictures of myself on the victory podium with my 1996 Olympic gold medal.  I would draw the world and a crowd of people and write talk bubbles like “the next Mary Lou”, “world peace”, “dream” and “believe”.  I wanted to inspire the world the way Mary Lou inspired me.  When my gymnastics career ended, my dreams did not.  My sister and I started a collection between ourselves that would one day fund our own gymnastics facility.  We put a quarter a day into the jar.  We talked about what we would have and what kind of coaches we would be.  We saved a good amount for about two years, but eventually stopped the effort.  We still watch gymnastics on TV whenever it’s aired and hope for another Mary Lou Retton, Nadia Comaneci, or Kim Zmeskal. 

While this all might sound silly and childish, I believe that it’s shaped me into who I am today.  I still dream big.  It doesn’t matter what I’m striving for, I look beyond that and believe that more is possible if I want it.  Sometimes I even feel like I’m as good as Carl Lewis and as dynamite as Mary Lou Retton.  I know that passions shared are more inspiring and more fun.  When I love something today, I find someone else who loves it too.  I talk about it with them.  Cheer about it.  Follow it.  I am a coach today and I fight to get the athletes good facilities and the best training possible.  I’m tough and enthusiastic.  I have a passion for diving even more than gymnastics (if you can imagine that) and I let it show.  When I see a kid pop out of the water with their face lit up and brimming with new confidence because they just ‘got it’, I ask them how they feel.  Usually they giggle and say “good”.  What a thrill! 

I thought I was going to be the next Mary Lou Retton but now I’m just the best me.  I don’t know about you but I’m going to keep dreaming and keep believing.  World peace?  Sure, it will happen. J

Who am I?

I'm 32, recently married, no kids, work a simple 9-5 job plus a fun gig on the side and am generally viewed as fairly innocent and naive.  Before that I was twenty something, a relationship nightmare, terrified of kids, unemployed and generally viewed as someone to stay away from or take advantage of depending on what kind of person you were.  Before that I was a high school overachiever, had a big group of boy and girl friends, loved my family, worked hard in school and sports and was generally viewed as a driven, bright, talented and caring young lady.  Before that I was a grade schooler, self conscious, faith filled, worked hard to be 'perfect', and was generally viewed as a ‘goody goody’ and a bit of a preacher type.

I don't think any of those pictures of me are really true at all but I'd say the high schooler is probably the closest to who I actually was at the time.  Today, I'm certainly not innocent nor do I think I'm all that naive.  I enjoy freeing myself of drama and have a taste for the simplest of entertainment.  People usually assume I've always been this way.  Why wouldn’t they?  My truth is that I'm a recovering alcoholic, drug addict, cutter and bulimic.  I've lived with major depression for half my life, have received 21 ECTs (shock treatments), and am a suicide survivor.  On the flip side, I have a bachelor's degree from one of the best universities in the country, competed on the national level in both club and NCAA Div I athletics, am a successful coach, a talented office professional, and my family gives me more love than I would dare dream to receive. 

You might guess my view - that descriptions and titles of people aren't really worth a grain of salt.  There's always more to tell.  The truth will always be different based on who is deciding it.  So, as I begin this blog I will relate my truth for you to do with it what you will.  My hope is that my experience might lend support and hope to the reader and ultimately enforce one of my most used mantras “There's a chance for change if I just stay alive”.