Let's Talk Mental Health.

2016 came to a miraculous and tornado-esque end as I found my life path completely shifted and the Knox and I were on our way back to Big Sky Country and my hometown in Eastern Montana to accept a position doing what I love and live for; nonprofit and development work.  To say the situation was miraculous is an understatement.  It has not been carefree and rainbows adjusting to a life sans Target, a multi-screen movie theater or winters with temps above -20.  It's been crazy challenging at times, but it's also been unbelievably happy and rewarding.  In the midst of it all, I've promised myself to look for my purpose in the Wild West and attempt to stay positive. Over and over and over and over I've seen a theme come through that I didn't expect, but I'm completely ok with it because it's time.  It's time to be the voice that I wish I had when I was a teen and young adult living in this community.  That voice is one of mental health advocacy.

Before we get to the staggering statistics that Montana brings to the table in mental health issues, I want to share a story with you.  The other night I had dinner with my friend and she shared an experience with me about her child being severely bullied while sitting in class and how hard it was to concentrate on the teacher because they were trying so hard not to cry on the outside while crying on the inside.  I haven't forgot this description of their emotions and I've thought about it on so many levels.  For those of you who are regular readers of my blog, you know my story.  You know how hard I've fought to counter depression and overcome some really tough relationships in my life in order to live an actual, normal (ish) life.  This young person's description of their feelings is how I have felt so many times when I had people standing in front of me who didn't believe that my insides were full of barb and sadness that I couldn't make go away. I am truly touched that she was comfortable sharing something so intimate because those are the moments that a mom wishes she never had to have. Her child is an incredible human, but different.  They're not like the other kids.  Suddenly this kiddo's differences make them the enemy and that is ridiculous.  Kids who are different; adults who are different; they become statistics because they feel absolutely no hope and love from those around them and thus take matters in to their own hands or mask their issues with addiction in all its forms.

And so I come to the point tonight.  My 2017 personal mantra is quickly becoming mental health advocacy.  Some of you might say....uh, hello, Raylynn....that's already your mantra.  You are correct, but it has become something that I have to REALLY advocate and speak the hell up because I am surrounded by a LOT of people who are either too scared of what people will think to get help or just plain don't give a shit and will drink their sorrows away or whatever numbs their reality.  

In an article written by the Bismarck Tribune, they shared the following statistics about suicide in Montana, "According to the 2015 Youth Risk Behavior Study, nearly 9 percent of Montana high school students attempted suicide in the 12 months before taking the survey.  Even more concerning, the survey data indicates that students who attempted suicide have many other life problems, such as bullying, drinking and drug abuse.  Although youth suicide gets more attention, the highest rate of suicide in Montana is actually for adults age 45-64.  In 2014, Montana recorded 251 suicides, and a rate of 24.5 per 100,000 population.  That was nearly double the national average of 13.4.  The 2015 statistics are worse: 267 suicides."  The article also stated that health care facilities are being bombarded by suicidal patients and it's causing the need for additional training.  Ya think?

So here's my voice, people.  What are we doing to change this?  Who cares? I'll tell you who.  The mom who has to tell her son that she doesn't have all the answers as to why his dad took his own life. The principal who just attended yet another funeral for a student who gave up after getting a C- instead of an A in Calculus.  The shift supervisor who had to tell his entire team that their coworker was found dead due to an intentional drug overdose.  Those people care because it has directly affected them.  But what about those of you who deem yourself lucky because you live in a bubble and these issues don't exist in your world?  Guess what?  They exist.  They are real and they need to be addressed.

The bottom line of mental health issues is the inability to cope.  If we would actually address the root of the issue and reason for not being able to cope, we would get so much further.  Take a minute and think about it.  Today, I couldn't deal with the stress of my job so I did this..... or today I had a really brutal fight with my spouse so I did this..... Today I totally failed as a parent and human being and now I just want to do this .... and give up..... Today my spouse told me he was cheating on me so I did this.......Today I told my brother I never wanted to speak to him again because he stole money from my business and now I want to do this........... All of these scenarios can and will happen.  But, we can actually face the root.  We really can.

For me, a lot of my depression over the years has stemmed from genetic markers that I can't change, as well as low Vitamin D thanks to being a redhead and living the sunscreen life for the majority of my existence.  However, there are some factors that definitely make it way worse if I let it.  I'm my toughest critic and I let myself be a terribly mean judge if I don't nip it.  Before I know it, I've shamed myself and it's a slippery slope towards sadness and self-pity.  The tools I have to help me work through this weakness did not come without a price.  I spent some really quality, yet challenging, time in organized therapy while living in Utah and my coping skills were directly impacted by the tips I learned from Jennifer.  I can't sing enough praise for organized therapy.  It saved me.  I was such a hopped up, angry mess and Jennifer helped me love again and have the ability to cope.

The reality of mental health issues on a grand scale as I described above is this: we have to break the cycle by making changes ourselves and then leading the way for the younger generation.  How can they learn how to face life's challenges if the adults around them face it with numbing activities and addictions?  If you are a parent or adult who needs help; GET IT.  Quit caring about what the neighbors might think and just get the damn therapy.  You will feel better.  You will walk in there thinking you're addressing one issue and quickly find that it will spread to all aspects of your life.  Priceless.  Absolutely priceless.

I'm nervous excited to share more of my story in this community  It took me 15 years to finally come to terms with my imperfection.  I'm not afraid to talk about it, but I also know that it tends to trigger my sadness that this is my reality.  A vicious cycle, but I have figured out a way to share just enough to make an impact, but not trip myself up.  Please have the bravery to get help.  For those of you who are reading this and we are neighbors or coworkers, please don't hesitate to ask me questions.  Email me: raylynn@beyoudesignsut.co.  I will share what I can share to help you feel empowered to change.  For those of you who aren't right here and still need the encouragement, email me!  If you're in Utah, I know a lady and she will change your world.  Together we can achieve more and I will do what I can.  I won't be your security blanket, but I can sure tell you where to purchase one.

The moral of the story: take care of your heart and your brain; they're all you've got.  Love the one you're with.  Like for reals.  

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

But, What If I Fail?

This week we've had nearly perfect weather here at Chez Ray Country. It's been cool and clear at night and mid 80s with a breeze during the day. I've been trying to eat lunch at the park more so I can enjoy fresh air before it's too cold. Today I was particularly aware of the moms and kiddos joining together for play dates at the playground across the way. I found myself thinking, "oh how I wish that was my life." That's an every day occurance for me and it's ok. But then in the next sentence I thought, "I'll bet one or all of those women wish they were still working outside of the home and could catch a nap on their lunch break or go to the bathroom in silence, but instead sit in an infinite pile of laundry and empty packages of scooby snacks."

And that's what got me thinking. How are we doing in the here and now?  Are we living in the moment or are we worrying ourselves sick that we will fail and mess up our "life plan?"  In my last blog post, I talked about tuning out the static of our lives. I talked about the ability to face your life full-on and say, "I don't care what anyone says or what the voices in my head say, I am doing this." The flip side to this thought process is the ever-present demon voice in our head that says, "but, what if I fail?" I have a few things to say about that.  Let's begin some raw musings avec Ray.

The majority of my readers are women, sprinkled with a few brave men. I am humbled by the stories that have been shared with me as I share my story about my journey of empowerment and mental health awareness.  There are stories far worse than mine and people who have lived through some pretty scary shit in their life and come out of it better and braver.  But getting through these events doesn't mean the scars just magically disappear.  In fact, it's quite the opposite.  The biggest side effect that I have observed and lived is the fear of failing.

One of my most popular blog posts is "In My Life." I share my thoughts about the great hit by The Beatles, "In My Life" and how it related to my closing thoughts after organized therapy.  I didn't share all my thoughts in that post, but there was definitely more.....lots more that I think about regularly. One of the questions and subsequent answer that I still think about is this, "Question number 2....how do you not let yourself get trapped in the "What if's" of life.  Oh my hell....if anyone has that answer ring me right up.  The word IF should burn in hell.  It is not fair that we've been taught to use the word "if."  What if I don't get married...what if I don't have babies?  Uh ya, still can't live with those answers.  I may never know if I can do it.  But all I know is I can still get up in the morning, plan my day, be amazing, and let it all pan out.  And when the evil word "if" creeps its way in...I recognize it...recognize my pain...but quickly move it right out.  That's the only way to do it."

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As I read that paragraph for this blog post, I suddenly had a flood of memories from the last 5 years since I wrote that statement.  I remember feeling a huge pit in my stomach about the idea of taking risks and facing life's challenges without the security blanket of a therapist.  Since then, I've been knocked down 3 times in my career in a year's time, lost a close family member to death, said good bye forever to someone I thought I loved, gave up on God's timing, gave a second chance to God's timing, fell in love with nature, started a business, embraced aunthood in all aspects of my life, bought my first bikini top (don't tell my mother) and quit checking my bank account every hour of every day for fear of not having enough. My hardest days are those when I let the demon named IF creep in to my brain.  Anxiety is a HUGE element of depression and for many of us it comes and goes in waves, depending on the life events at the time.  For me, I have found much solace in meditation and the art of being still and turning off my brain in an effort to calm the hell down.  That is NOT easy at times, but I'm getting better at it.  The other day I was talking to my best friend about this process.  It didn't magically happen on its own.  There have been LOTS of nights where I could only turn my brain off for a few minutes and then I had to do something else. I call that gypsy flight mode. Lately, I have had the ability to shut off the noise and actually relax.  You can do it too.

For some of you, this may require medication to even out your chemical balance.  GET ON IT.  Do not be afraid to medicate!  Why in the hell would you continue to willingly let yourself be miserable?  Turn off YOUR static, that medication is bad, and give yourself the gift of mental reprive.  Remember, medication, just like therapy, does not cure you.  It merely gives you a buffer so you can freaking cope when you just want to go postal.

When it comes right down to it, our fear of failing has to do with relationships.  Relationships with those around us and with ourself.  Our fear of failure stems from unrealistic expectations that we set for ourselves and those that we perceive are set by others.  If we will cut the superficial and dig deep as the Dalai Lama suggests in his book, "The Art of Happiness," we will find peace and less anxiety.  If you don't have a copy of this book, stop what you're doing and BUY IT.  It is $2.56 on Amazon Marketplace for the paperback copy (yes, I checked) and it is a must-read.  Being still, having less fear and more faith comes by grounding ourselves and trusting our power to live.  The Dalai Lama gives such eloquent wisdom in this book and I always reccommnd it to friends who are having a tough time in life.

For all the crappy that has occured in my life, the peacful and content that has followed it is irreplacable.  When I look at the sweet faces of my four Colorado loves on FaceTime and melt all over again, I remember that I have a reason to live.  I have LOTS of reasons to live and I have even more reasons to continue my life and not fear failure and so do you.

The moral of the story: Failure is not failure unless we say so.  We can either fall down and give up or we can learn from it.  That's it!  Give yourself a chance to be amazing and it will happen.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

Be sure to check out the biz side of "Let It Be & Celebrate" by visiting www.beyoudesignsut.co

Perspective Changes Our View.

This week I've been very blessed to have some lessons that taught me how important it is to focus on the perspective of life's events. Many times we get so caught up in our vortex of struggle that we take a "woe is me" and "why the hell does this have to happen" and we forget that EVERYTHING in our life happens with purpose and perspective.  In the grand scheme of things, events that we may deem catastrophic or life-altering are probably that way, in our eyes. so that our path and our brain gets the remodel that it needs.  I have to remind myself that I am in the thick of the story, between my "once upon a time" and "happily ever after", and it may seem like the story will never end, but I'm actually creating a sub-plot of grand proportions that will still change me if I will let it.

One of the greatest blessings in my life are my friends.  I have stellar friends all over the country.  During my latest bump in the road of life, I've been strengthened by so many in their own way.  Notes in the mail, private messages on Facebook, phone conversations for HOURS where I do most of the talking and they do the listening and encouraging.  This keeps me going.  One friend in particular has given me such strength and I wanted to share her story with all of you.  I asked for her permission and due to the nature of her employment, she will remain nameless.  A couple of weeks ago, she experienced something in her job that was LIFE CHANGING for her and it brought a perspective that altered her outlook.  It was so "catastrophic" that she wrote about it and sent it to her mother.  Because of the magnitude of my bumpy reality, she knew I would appreciate this story and chose to share it with me as well.  It is not for the weak of heart, a real life "Grey's Anatomy" scene, but is powerful and I asked if I could feature it on my blog.  Her words are filled with faith in life and faith in God and yet her life is still not perfect.  However, she keeps perspective at the forefront of her life and because of that she blesses those around her, including me, with a deep appreciation for the sanctity, simplicity and delicacy of life.  Thank you dear friend, for sharing this with me and letting me share it with the world.

Journal Entry dated 9 April 2016

"I’ve been told that when a crisis hits, I will know what to do, that I will surprise myself and do better than I think. “You’ve been trained. You know what to do. It will come naturally.”

Right…

I’ve always thought that this was a bunch of bunk. When moderate crisis have hit at the hospital, I have found myself struggling with suppressing my own emotions, with hands shaking so violently that I can barely use them, and a brain that seems to screech to a halt. It takes all of my energy to keep from crying as I feel, much too deeply, what the family might be feeling.

I don’t want to be the family member being whooshed from the room while a flock of medical people come crashing in to save the day. It just seems too dramatic, too intense…too real.

Before I left for work yesterday, I took a moment to pray. “Heavenly Father, please help me to have a good day. Please help me to know what to do. Please help me to find someone to serve.” I had a good day, (Check!) I knew what to do, (Double check!), and I’m pretty sure I served someone who needed me. I’m just not exactly sure who that person was.

“Code Blue, CT. Code Blue, CT. Code Blue, CT.” paged loud overhead for all to hear. By the tone of the overhead page it was clear that this was not a drill.

I walked out of the break room and asked “Who’s the Team Lead today?”

“You are.”

“I am? Oh shit.” (Yes, I really did say this….sorry!)

I grabbed our heavy crash cart, stocked full of life saving supplies, and pushed it as fast as I could down the long corridor. The closer I got to the CT room, the more my heart started to pound. I was worried that my brain would screech to a halt and that I wouldn’t know what to do. So I paused. Well, at least my brain paused, as I rushed down the hallway.

“Heavenly Father, this is the real deal. I am in charge, and I need your help. Please help me to be calm. Please help me to know what to do.  Please help me to do my job. I’ve never done this before!”

Overwhelming peace and clarity instantly filled my body. My hands did not shake.
My brain did not falter.  I knew I was prepared, well, at least as prepared as one can ever be. I felt relaxed. Really relaxed.

It’s a hard thing, walking into a room, with a man laying on a table, his face so blue that it is nearly black. Doctors counting out the rhythm as they pound on his chest, “one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...” It’s a hard thing to see the blood pooling in his mouth, blood pooling on his chest as doctors race to put in chest tubes, and watching the respiratory crew struggle to help him to breath with blood gushing out of his breathing tubes. And it’s a hard thing to know that through this all, even with two doctors and two anesthesia providers in the room, I am in charge.

I have never done this before.

My mind has been thinking about this scenario over and over, trying to make sense of things. It isn’t the blood that spattered the wall, the compressions that crushed his ribs, the “Everyone CLEAR! Shocking the patient in three, two, one!” that I had to call out, or the “Resume compressions!” that I’ve been mulling over.  It isn’t seeing the wife’s face as she calmly came in to touch her husband and say a brief prayer before his barely alive body was shipped to the ICU that I’ve been thinking about. Or her calm face as she thanked each one of us, almost individually, before walking away. It certainly hasn’t been the unusual way this code had to proceed due to the individual circumstances that lead to this man’s unfortunate day. And it hasn’t been the bloody footprints that we left in the room after everything had been cleaned, the final bit of evidence to our attempts at saving his life.

My mind can’t stop wondering about my reaction to it all. Why do I feel so calm?

Why am I not a basket case? I’ve been mulling it over in my mind, around and around, because I am worried that something is wrong with me. Shouldn’t I be devastated? Shouldn’t I cry, even a little? Shouldn’t I be a little bit traumatized? A wife just saw her husband’s unconscious body be taken to the ICU, know that this is probably it, as in the “It”, “The end”, or as I like to call it the “See you laters”.  Hollywood couldn’t have made the scene any more dramatic than it was.

Did he survive? Did he live?

That is the question that everyone asks. It wasn’t until becoming a nurse that I realized that “Did he survive?” and “Did he live?” have many layers and nuances. It’s like shades of a color. Is turquoise still blue? Yes, but not exactly.

So to answer the question, yes, he survived, at least at time of transport. His heart was beating. He was maintaining his blood pressure. He was even trying, in a small way, to breath on his own. His skin had even returned to a much more comfortable shade of pale pink. Was he alive? Yes. Is he alive?

I don’t know if he will ever leave the hospital. I don’t know if he will ever be able to hug his wife in this life. I don’t know if he will ever go home with his family. But I do know that he lives! No matter what happens to his body, his spirit is still alive.

And now as I write this, the tears suddenly fall.

Administration patted me on the back telling me “That was one of the best codes we have seen,” and were shocked when I told them that this was my first (I did see CPR one other time).  My other code team members said “Wow. You were so calm. You are an amazing team leader. You should run all of our codes.” and “You sounded and looked like you have run a hundred codes” when I confessed that this was my first.

Why was it that I was so calm? That I was able to very competently do my job, despite the horrific scene in front of me? A co-worker quietly asked me later that night, “Did you feel the help from the other side in the room with us? There were a lot of [heavenly] helpers in there.” It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the magnitude of help we had been given. I asked that morning to find someone to serve, not expecting to be the one served, but for that, I am feeling eternally grateful."

The moral of the story: No matter how hard life gets, keep perspective. Perspective will keep us breathing and facing our challenges with a miraculous sense of peace and calm.  I know it, my friend knows it and I hope that you can find it for you when you need it most.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

Be sure to check out the biz side of "Let It Be & Celebrate" by visiting www.beyoudesignsut.co

And So It Goes....

My heart is full and my brain is a bit mushy, but I come to you today with musings that I didn't think would have to be real in 2016, but alas, here we are and we are talking and this is life......heavy sigh......

Recently, I read the book "The Year of Yes" by Shonda Rhimes.  It was an incredible book that I will add to my list of "must read each year" and will write a more thorough blog post about in the near future. It was eye-opening and heart-wrenching because I found myself relating to elements of this introverted, but insanely successful Hollywood female powerhouse that one might not expect of me at face value.  For you see, I am much more than meets the eye just like Ms. Rhimes.  I am twisted, imperfect, jaded and unsure of my place in life.  I am also a confident, out-spoken, beautiful soul who loves deeply and doesn't give a damn if people don't like me.  But, then again, I DO actually care if people don't like me.  I care a lot.

And so it goes....we come together and I am in a place of life that I thought I wouldn't have to experience this year. A place of unsure and unrest.  I joke that some of my best blog content has come during some of the scariest times of life and that is really not my cup of tea so what is up with it happening again?

There is so much that I could say that would fill you in on the specifics of my pain, but I keep it out of the public eye because it is not meant for sharing.  But, I will tell you this, life can shift in the blink of an eye without any warning.  Even when we think that we've had all we can bear and the clouds have finally parted, the universe can throw another bolt of lightening on our picnic and test our strength again. I am working through some sadness that I am all too familiar with, but there is a difference this time.  I know that there is a beginning and an end.  I know that there is a reason.  I know that my worth in the eyes of my family, my friends, my four loves and my God is not dependent on circumstances outside of my control.  

How many times have you sat on the floor of your bedroom, your bathroom or your kitchen and cried because someone made you feel like a total loser because you spoke your mind?  How many times have you felt like a total loser because you protected your integrity and it got you nothing but heartache and pain? I would be lying if I said that I was a self-professed "positive attitudes change everything" master.  I am SO not.  In fact, I suck at it when I get beat down over and over by the same scenario. I also know that if I let myself harbor anger and spite that I will spiral into a depressive state that is brutally ugly and nearly impossible to climb out of.  My faith is tested when I have to pull myself off the floor, wipe away my tears and look in the mirror and say, "Ray, you have roots that are deep and they are strong and you know it. Trust yourself, trust God and let this unfold."  Sometimes .... a LOT of the time....those words have to be reaffirmed by friends and family, but ultimately they have to come from ME before they will work miracles.

Last night I got on my knees and started a prayer with a statement along these lines, "I don't have any tears left, but I do have a bed, a roof over my head, food in the fridge, a car that runs, a closet FULL of cute clothes, a manic black cat who thinks I'm the best thing ever, four little humans who adore me and people who are praying for me every single day. What am I going to do this time?" I said the remainder of my prayer and I got up, dusted off my skinned knees, turned off my cell phone and crawled in my blessed bed.  When I woke up this morning and turned on my phone I was greeted with multiple messages full of love and encouragement.  God is in our details, my lovelies.  No matter our religion, no matter our state of existence, HE IS THERE.  He hears our prayers, He loves us and He puts people in our path to carry us when we can't carry ourselves.

I am convinced that my life flows with the soundtrack of the movie "Rudy" because I feel like the little person who WILL start in the game, but really just wants to punch cinder block walls and stuff, but then my teammates give up their jerseys and the moment of awesome happens for all to see.  I know that we can beat the odds when we least expect it. Nothing in our life happens without reason.  The final scene of the movie is one that I could watch over and over.  It melts my heart.  I weep like a baby every time I watch the movie and I legitimately go into panic mode because I don't know if he is going to play in the final game of his senior year at Notre Dame.  I KNOW THE ANSWER and I still freak out!  One of the things I love most is the scene in which Rudy himself is freaking out about what to do next after he's run his assigned play. Seconds left in the game and he doesn't know what to do. One of the coaches yells to him from the sideline, "stay in, stay in." He does that and you know the rest.....he makes college football history.  This is my life.  I am setting records and overcoming the odds in ways that I had no idea were possible for one lady.  But!  I know that my happy ending always includes a lot of cheering from the crowds and myself and that is what carries me through the challenging parts.  Please take a minute to watch the movie clip below and think about how it relates to your life.  Who is there cheering you on?  Who believes in you? Who loves and adores your imperfect self even when you think you've lost them?

The moral of the story: Staying in the game makes all the difference.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

Five.

This week marked a big milestone for me. On Thursday, March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, I celebrated my 5 year anniversary since I buttoned up organized therapy.  I ended therapy on St. Patrick's Day on purpose.  I LOVE the holiday (it's that redhead in me) and I always wanted to remember the end with a happy day.  If I was a drinker I would maybe have an extra drink, but alas, I am not, so I had a big fat piece of sinful 7 layer chocolate cake in my princess bed and it was glorious.  

I've written about my experiences in therapy and post therapy a number of times on le blog. There is a lot about the therapy process that is still so wrought with stigmas and misconceptions in the media and I've tried to be as open and honest as I can about the process and what I learned.  There is also a part of my experience that purposely is staying in the past.  It includes the mistakes, the heartaches and the toxic pain that I shed through the help of my amazing therapist.  History remains history and there is just some of it that I don't need or want to talk about.  I know I have a lot of readers who have struggled with the process of therapy and didn't feel like it helped them.  Today I am going to be very real and very honest so that you can see that therapy didn't actually cure me.  Therapy made me a better me so that I could face life differently.  But, it sure as hell did not cure me. 

The first thing I want you to know about therapy: there is absolutely no shame in seeking help.  There is immense value in talking to a third party that you are not emotionally connected with in any way other than the fact that you air your dirty laundry to them and they take notes and offer suggestions for coping.  These brave souls who have chosen the career of mental health specialists are highly educated and wired to take on the analysis of our lives and brains.  God bless them because I couldn't do it.  I know enough about people and their weirdness through my chosen profession, but I don't need to know more.  Much of the shame that we may feel is because our brains are so mucked up with trying to deal that they want us to give up so that the wiring doesn't have to change.  However, just like a well-maintained engine, our brains do so much better when they are oiled and monitored and flushed on a periodic basis and therapy can serve that purpose if we will let it.  

The second thing I want you to know about therapy: it is only as good as how you apply it in your every day life.  I was TERRIFIED to end my time with Jennifer because I knew it meant I had to deal on my own.  It was scary to think about having relationships and facing life challenges after I was done checking in with her.  I made absolutely sure that I was ready to fly on my own, but I also had a long list of things that I kept and still keep close to my heart.  What are my triggers?  Who are my triggers?  What calms me down?  What can I let slide and what do I have to always do when I'm having a tough mental health day?  How do I stop myself from the avalanche of "what ifs" that I'm so good at doing?  Who do I trust implicitly with all the hairy details and who am I on a "need to know, surface only" basis?  The list goes on and on.  More than once I have had to sit myself down and have a mental tune-up to get myself back on track after a big event or boulder fell out of the sky.  2015 anyone?  My most recent therapy post talked about a pair of shoes that reminded me of a terribly awful relationship mistake that I made.  In the post I talked about keeping them as a reminder of what I had accomplished.  I am happy to report, that because of my own blog post and the triggers that I set off (boo to me), I ended up getting rid of those hot polka-dotted vintage inspired pumps because they (a silly pair of shoes) were a trigger and they needed to go.  Talk about a weight lifted when I don't see the lurking reminder in my closet anymore.  

The third thing I want you to know about therapy: you are still going to have hard days.  You're going to have completely shitty, sad, crying, awful, hard-as-hell days.  But, you will also have days when you will think, "wow, pre-therapy me would have crumbled quicker and longer in this scenario than post-therapy me." My knees still get bruised and bloody when I fall and my heart still breaks when a relationship ends or someone dies.  But, how I treat myself and how I work through it compared to pre-therapy is light years different.  I still ache to have a better reality in regards to a couple of things in my life, but I know that gratitude conquers all and with that I relish in what I DO have and let the rest go.  

The fourth thing I want you to know about therapy:  Decide that you will not settle for any type of treatment or abuse that will put you right back to where you were pre-therapy. THIS takes practice and a whole hell of a lot of effort. I'm still finding out little quirks and nuances that I thought were fully addressed are, in fact, still a raging issue if I'm not careful. I've had some conversations with my friends that have recently divorced when I asked them, "what went wrong on both sides and how will you improve yourself the next time?" There are a lot of people, myself included, who have a hard time admitting they were wrong and at fault and that they need to use their picker with more prudence next time. If your surroundings need to change for your therapy to stick, then move.  Have the faith to do it.  If you need to have a sitter to watch your kids so you can go to the gym, then MAKE IT HAPPEN and go to the gym.  If you need friends who don't encourage you to drink like a crazy person or use drugs, then bravely cut them off and find new friends.  If you need to have a date night and some good loving calendared with your sweetheart then write it on the damn calendar and do it!  Remember how I said therapy is only as good as you apply it to your daily life?  Well it is.  Trust me.  Don't spend all that money, time and effort and expect no change necessary.  That is a LIE.  Change is the point.  Change is the healer.  

The fifth thing I want you to know about therapy: You can go back.  Jennifer called them booster visits and I've had a few.  The funny part about mine was that we usually chuckled together because I knew what I needed to do and was well on my way to the right path.  Going to see her for a booster visit was mostly for validation that I was, in fact, coping like a boss without her.  I've kept in contact with her and will send her a periodic email from time-to-time just to solidify that I'm doing well and that she's still there.  I've referred a lot of friends to her. When it came time to leave Utah, I promise you that I had a conscious thought process that included "what if I ever need to go see Jennifer? Will this next home be close enough that I could do that?"  The answer is yes, but I'm confident that I probably won't need to use that lifeline because I am using her advice every day as best I can.  

I am grateful for this milestone.  It has not been an easy 5 years.  Holy hell, at times, it has been everything but easy. I've felt a lot of anger and hate, but I've also learned to deeply, truly love others and myself and I know that my choice to give organized therapy a shot is the reason why.  Don't give up on yourself. Talk to someone who can help you trudge through your sorrow and confusion.

The moral of the story: Breathe. Trust. Love. Have faith in the timing AND the process.  And most of all work.  Work very very hard to be your best you in spite of your imperfections.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

la la la la....life goes on!

The other day I sent a text to my amazing friend that went something like this, "I can tell spring is around the corner here because I feel better and I'm actually happy." Then I took the time to look at my Instagram photos towards the end of 2015 and compare them to those in the last month and I thought, "who is that incredibly happy looking lady?" And lastly, as my bestie and I were road trippin' this past weekend, one of my favorite Beatles hits,  "Ob-la-di ob-la-da" came on Pandora and it hit me, 'la la la la....life goes on' is LEGIT and I am happy freaking proof.

"Ob-la-di ob-la-da" is one of those songs that causes me to stop what I'm doing, smile like crazy, turn up the volume, dance and sing along. The funny thing is, the lyrics are pretty silly and simple. It's about life. Life that is happy and real and moving forward for a girl and a boy named Molly and Desmond Jones. Molly is a singer in a band and Desmond has a barrow in the market place and really likes her face.

Life HAS moved on for me and I am so incredibly happy. There is laughter, there is love, there is success, but most of all there is a lot of liking my own face. I have so much to be grateful for, but most of all I am grateful to look in the mirror and SEE my happy which also means seeing the peace. That's a challenging task for someone who has spent a few too many days "faking it to make it" in her life. When I can see and feel the same, I count it as a red letter banner day. We all know that I don't sugar coat anything so let's muse for a moment about the things that I had to do to make this possible. I have learned over and over and over in life, NOTHING comes for free and it especially doesn't come without effort.

Make Time For Quiet. I experienced a lot of noise when I made the decision to relocate out-of-state. Noise was defined as tying loose ends with my apartment lease, cancelling all the utilities, changing addresses, saying good bye to the VIP list of friends that I would miss dearly and on and on and on. When I first arrived here, I was still faced with a lot of noise as I started a new job and all the joys that went along with it. I quickly found that the times when I could sit and snuggle in a quiet place were therapeutic and absolutely necessary because my brain was forced to be quiet and THAT is as good as gold for a mental health warrior princess such as myself. One of my favorite things to do in my quiet time is read. Reading has been a place of solace for me this past year and that didn't change when the scenery changed.

Don't Force The Routine.  I am a pretty chill control freak. That means that I like order in my career, but I don't stress about the laundry not getting folded TODAY on the home-front, but I go ape shit cray if someone messes with my desk at work or doesn't follow clearly written policy. Oxymoron incarnate?  Yes.  Do I care what you think about that? Nope. What I've learned to embrace at home (don't sweat folding the laundry if you're having a bad mental health day) has been grossly overdue at work and vice versa at home (aka I probably SHOULD care about the laundry not being folded). Whenever I start a new job I am full throttle and want to transition as fast as possible because transition is awkward and painful and NOT fun. After some really challenging lessons last year I learned that I needed to slow the hell down in my career and be a little bit more chill during the transition phase. I've done my best so far and it was like clockwork when I hit the one month mark and suddenly the honeymoon period was O-ver and I was forced to be bad ass boss lady again and make things happen now.

Celebrate The Small Victories. I keep my career and those details out of my blog life because they are separate. However, I made a big decision to come back to a career that was suffocating me in Utah. It was a big leap of faith for me and I've had a few days this year that I've thought, "what the hell was I thinking coming back?" But then, I had multiple days last week when my team's efforts were manifested in small, yet big victories within our company. Last week I sat at my desk for at least a half hour and just soaked in the pure joy of seeing the fruits of my labors pop up in emails. I also took the opportunity to take myself to dinner as a celebration of this huge step. Don't short change yourself of the celebration that should come when you accomplish small, yet important, tasks in your life. They ALL matter so treat them that way.

Ditch The Toxic. I accumulated some toxic when I lived in Utah. Some toxic air to breathe for 4 months during the winter, attitudes, habits and people. Just as I had to purge a lot of physical items out of my house to make this move possible, I had to purge the other toxins out of my life too. It's not an easy task to tell someone in your life that they are a ridiculous excuse of a human and that you will no longer expend energy to care about them when they clearly do NOT care back. It's also really challenging to step away from social media sources that are a constant reminder of what you miss in the former home, but also reminds you of the ticking time bomb that your life was in 2015.  Have the courage to walk away and close the chapter.  I will also tell you that as you ditch the toxic, the happy has more room to exist and gives you the chance to see life in a whole new light and it is beautiful.

Try New Things. One of the inevitable realities that comes with moving to a new place are the new things to do and see. From the moment I arrived in Idaho, I started seeking out new things to do and see. I knew I needed a non-profit to volunteer with so I started to google about my chosen causes. I knew I liked to support local restaurants so I figured out who they were and when I was going to try their cuisine. I knew I had a lot of Saturdays that needed filling with solo adventures so I figured out where those places were and how the heck to get there. I knew I had some overdue winter bucket list items that needed to be crossed off the list so I made plans to do them in an effort to appreciate my colder, healthier surroundings. Oh, and in my first week here, trying new things translated to fried cheesecake. Uh, hello, fried treat of absolute sinful goodness! Where have you been all my life?????

Trust The Timing. I'm a planner and I have some very specific personal goals that I need to accomplish in 2016. Some of them are quite daunting on paper and it's been really challenging to swallow the reality that some of these goals are not happening overnight.  In fact, none of them are happening overnight. I don't have a magic wand or a twitching nose full of witchcraft. Damn it, but I don't. So why do I think it will just magically poof itself fixed? I've made a promise to myself that I will continue to trust in the timing of my life and not let the looming goals and hopes and dreams take over my here and now because my here and now is pretty damn amazing and peaceful. This one has especially been hard for a couple matters of the heart, but I've handed that messy, frustrating shit over to the big man upstairs because I don't have a crystal ball or magic eight ball that actually work. Le sigh.

The final words of the song go like this, "Yeah, ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on bra
La-la how the life goes on
Yeah, ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on bra
La-la how the life goes on
And if you want some fun
Take ob-la-di ob-la-da"

Life is fun. Life is still hard and challenging, but it is moving forward one day at a time. To those of you who are sitting in a chapter of life in which you think that things will never change, please know that it WILL if you make the effort to keep moving and singing and celebrating the small victories. You will get through your challenges that are set before you today. Tomorrow offers you another chance at living and loving and I know that you can do it. Don't lose hope and don't short change yourself from seeking the help and support that is right there waiting for you to utilize.

The moral of the story: life ABSOLUTELY goes on.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

Let Me Sleep or Prepare to Die.

Today my hairdresser text me to postpone my hair cut appointment due to sick littles at her house. In the midst of our conversation I wished her well and my hopes that she would be able to catch up on her beauty sleep. She laughed and lamented the need to catch up on a LOT of beauty sleep. Aw, sleep, how I loveth thee. So much that I hereby warn my lovelies that if you mess with my sleep you may die. Don't believe me? Ha, good luck with that.  

Not long ago I read a compelling article about the increase in postpartum depression in women because there is an expectation to forego sleep because you're the mom and that's what you do. It posed some really staggering statistics about the increase in depression and mental illness in the early days of a new baby because the mamma is so damn tired.  Why does it have to be that way? Let the mama take a nap already!

I'll be perfectly honest with all of you that my biggest fear of being pregnant isn't actually being pregnant. It's the after-my-baby-is-born part. I know that I'm 100% capable of being a kick ass mom, but I don't know if my brain can do it. I'm a planner and a calculated maker of choices and the unknown of what might happen postpartum, based on my history, is hella scary. But, I digress....sort of.

So, why am I so cray about sleep? Well, two words: zombie redhead. I mean, let's be honest, I'm an unfiltered, sassy pants when I'm rested and fed. Do you really want to mess with the alternate version of Ray? Hint: the answer is N-O. All joking aside, I really am a believer in the immense power of sleep. While I was a teenager, my family would attend church at 9 am every Sunday. It was a contest to see who could eat lunch and be down for a nap the fastest after we got home. It was a win-win for my mom that all of her children inherited their dad's champion napping skills because it meant she had guranteed quiet time. I looked forward to my Sunday nap and I still do. As a busy teen, I needed those 2-4 hours to recharge my brain for the next week. This continued as a college student and in to my adult life. At one point in my career I lived close enough to my office that I could sneak in a 15 minute nap on my lunch hour. Those power naps saved me during a very trying time of life. 

Sleep has a way of resetting my mental batteries and helping me cope with just about anything. It grounds me during the storm.  When I've had a rough day I generally cry it out (remember how I'm a stress crier?), take a bath, take a nap and THEN make a plan of how to handle the situation. I know myself well enough to know that making any kind of decision while I'm sad and tired is just asking for trouble. Emotionally driven decisions are generally rash and short sided.  Nap it out, then work it out.  #putthatonapillow

The other reason I'm a fighter for the cause of sleep is because I know that in any kind of depression situation, the first thing to go is sleep. I know this because I've experienced it. I've spent too many nights staring at my ceiling and the spinning overhead fan while waiting....begging....for the sleep to come and as soon as the sun came up I couldn't stay awake. It's a viscious cycle and I guard my ability to sleep when I'm meant to sleep more than anything. 

I think the best reason to let me sleep (besides not dying) is my ability to move mountains when I'm rested and recharged. Let me sleep and when I wake we can move mountains. It's so simple! 

The moral of the story: Zombie redheads aren't fun. Let the lady sleep. Trust me.

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

The Roots of Our Soul.

Over the years, I've often thought back on some of the poorest choices I made in my life and how they came about and why I thought it was acceptable to do it.  One particular instance haunts me because I know that it was a choice made while I was in pain and without deeply planted roots of self confidence and love for myself.  I've forgiven myself, but I will always live with a reminder in my brain of the how and why and that I am forever grateful I was brave enough to face my fear and be a better person in spite of myself.

I think many of us make choices in our lives because our roots are weak and we think that our worth is far less than it actually is so why would it matter if we do what we do? It breaks my heart when I have people tell me, "I hate myself so much that I can't accept that someone might love me."  What brings a person to this point?  The breakdown of trust, communication and a spiritual root system that keeps them intact.  I've been there. It's a dark, cold, lonely place. But, the good news is, it doesn't last forever.  And thank goodness.

I reference my time in organized therapy on a regular basis because I am not ashamed that I sought help to cope. I also want others to feel safe in talking with me about their struggles and their experiences with therapy. Therapy doesn't cure you. Not even CLOSE, but the greatest gift you can walk away with is the ability to grow your roots back and build a foundation again. It took about 6 weeks before I felt the breakdown of my weak root system. What commenced was a catastrophic meltdown and physical pain because of emotional issues. There is absolutely no way we can start over until we hit rock bottom. It's the moments of having absolutely nothing except for us and God that we figure out a way to conquer our fear to take root in new ways.

One of my all-time favorite Disney/Pixar movies is "A Bug's Life." For whatever reason it has always been a movie that I can pop in to calm my nerves and laugh. The dialogue and one-liners are some of Disney's finest. One scene in particular involves Flick attempting to give an analogy of the giant tree growing from a seed and the seed is actually a rock.  Dot says to him, "this rock is going to become a tree?" and Flick freaks out and has to reexplain his point and that it takes time to grow and become strong like the tree. I always laugh because Dot says to him, "you're weird." Oh how I can relate to being weird for being a woman who relates so well to analogies by a talking ant.

Another priceless gift that I gained from therapy was the ability to say to myself, "how can I apply this event, trial, whatever, to other aspects of my life?"  Along with that I also learned the valuable mental tool, "what have I learned from this mistake and how will I live my life differently because of it?" Both of those statements take an incredible amount of "reality check" and brutal honesty with ourselves because the answer may not be what we want to hear. To that I say with all the love in my heart, tough shit. Face reality, strip your pride and be brave and full of faith to face your weaknesses.

In nature, the strongest trees can withstand the elements of weather, wind and aging with a deeply bedded root system. The same goes for us.  I love the quote above about laughing at storms.  I don't know about you, but the last thing I'm doing in the middle of a storm, figuratively or literally, is laughing.  Usually I'm crying and hiding under my blankets in my bed.  The point of this quote is that we CAN face storms with a smile on our face if we have a root system that is strong and deep.  Without a solid root system, we can't discern what is right and what is wrong and where the boundaries lie as we fight the good fight and find ourselves again.

Many of you who read this blog know me personally and know the inner and external battles I've fought.  Some of you know more than others, but I want you ALL to know this, my roots of regrowth after I went to see my Jen is what changed EVERYTHING. (her website) I know this because I have never experienced anything like my 2015 and I am here to tell you that I didn't drown because I had roots of faith and strength to hold on to with all my might. I had love in my heart for myself and others around me and I kept myself grounded by serving and allowing others to serve me.

The moral of the story: Even when the roots are cut, they can still grow back and be better than ever.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

To Cope or Not To Cope...

Well, hello, my lovelies! First of all, HaPPy NEW Year! If you're anything like me you gave 2015 a swift kick in the ass and said hello to 2016 with gusto. I've been on a personal hiatus from le blog because I've been settling in to a new Chez Ray.  Chez Ray Country, as I've affectionately named it, is finally coming together which means my brain is less mushy and I can concentrate on the fun stuff like the bloggy blog!

They say that hindsight is 20/20, but I think it takes YEARS before that is actually true. I look back on some big life hurdles that I had in my 20's and a few of them I can say, "that happened for a reason because of THIS, but I don't know about that." Throughout my time in Utah, especially while I was in therapy, I was hella angry and bitter at my realities, but I know for certain that those 18 months of brutal shedding of toxins were preparing me for some tough life challenges that I would have 5 years later.  As I shared in my last post, Ogden was tough, but it was glorious.  I've officially been gone for 10 days today and they've been challenging, but they have also been full of peace. I have dubbed myself a "coping ninja" after 2015 because there were so many opportunities for me to give up and lay on the floor and get trampled and I didn't do it.  Not once. I paid my bills with hardly any money, I served others who were in far greater need than me and most of all, I turned back to God and put the outcome of my life in His hands.

To cope or not to cope? That is the question we face at times in our lives. I wish I could diagram it for some people because it seems that it is a concept that is not grasped by many. From an early age we teach our children that crying is not acceptable in certain circumstances and then at some point we hope that as teens and adults they pick up on the memo that crying is actually healthy and necessary and not a sign of weakness.  One of the first steps I had to take in my quest to be a coping ninja was letting myself cry.  I'm a stress crier.  It's ridiculous actually, but I've let it be. For many years, I was discouraged to cry in times of stress. The philosophy was that we cry when we are hurt; the rest of the time it shows we are weak.  Wrong, my lovelies.  Absolutely wrong. I held my crap together pretty well during 2015 and its long list of challenges, but there were a lot of times that I couldn't take it anymore and fell apart.  Probably the queen of all comeaparts (totally a word) was on New Year's Eve (impeccable timing) when the moving truck company called me to say that they did not have a truck on their lot in Ogden (I was in Idaho) and there was nothing they could do to help me since I wasn't standing in front of them with my fancy gold credit card in hand. I LOST MY MARBLES on the phone with the truck company employee. I'm sure she was pissed about being at work on the biggest drinking holiday of the year, but I was also completely pissed that it somehow wasn't her problem that the truck I had reserved ten days earlier wasn't sitting on her lot and I was finding out about it while my friend was there to pick up said M.I.A. truck.  The rest of the story goes like this: Uhaul saved the day and I got to move on New Year's Day as planned.  The end result was different than I had planned, but it still accomplished the same goal and for THAT I was grateful and moved forward.  That is coping.  Coping is accepting that we don't have control over everything so we need to accept what is and roll with it.

The second step in my coping ninja quest was finding the root of my pain and addressing the solution from there. I think it's really hard for people to be 100% honest with themselves about the root of their struggles. We all come from different religious backgrounds and family situations that have given us differing foundations (or none at all for some) of how to analyze our life and conquer our trials.  As a society we tend to opt to labels. "I have commitment and trust issues so I drink to numb the pain." "I just broke up with my girlfriend/boyfriend so I'm going to sleep with whoever will have me because that seems to make me feel better in the moment." "I've had a terrible day at work so I'm going to eat everything in my fridge and then throw it up so that I don't get fat." Each of those scenarios, drastic as they sound, are real and happen often to those around us.  I've generally been a "stop eating when life gets hard" kind of lady, but this year I didn't lose the token 20 pounds....I gained it.  I was SO angry when I realized that.  Wait what?  Because my fall back on stress should be the weight loss plan? What it really showed to me was my body was done and couldn't work on overtime to keep my brain functioning like a normal person AND burn fat AND keep me from killing small animals.  Not possible! Coping meant this to my body: going to bed at night and shutting my brain down to sleep, waking up my brain in the morning and filling my heart with faith to take more steps and sending messages to the muscles in my legs to take those steps out the door so I could conquer my trials. The rest was just details.

The third step is letting go of what we can't control and giving it over to a higher being. Many times I've had the opportunity to share my thoughts on God's role in my life. A lot of those opportunities have been to kids or teens so I have composed a simple version. Ironically, the simple version also appeals to the adult audiences because it's just that: plain and simple and to the point. Our life is a time line of events here, here, here and here. Sometimes we can handle a LOT and other times we can handle very little. The good news is that God and Jesus Christ fill in the gaps for us, as we communicate with them through prayer about our shortcomings and what we can't take anymore.  He then sends people into our lives to fill in the gaps, to fill our buckets when the well is dry.  I've experienced it over and over.  The element of coping comes in to play when we can put down our pride and admit that we are weak and the people being sent to help are there because WE NEED THEM. If you need help, ask, but don't turn away the acts of kindness when they arrive and seem remedial to you.  You are the source of someones intuition to help; don't crush that opportunity for them.  Let yourself be loved, looked after and blessed.

I am really grateful for the understanding that my life has a purpose and that my inability to control every little part is OK.  I'm also grateful that when I have a weepy weak day of missing my friends and loves that God fills in the gaps and carries me home and puts peace in my heart while I pour myself to bed.

The moral of the story: The future is bright for each and every one of us and we can accomplish a LOT with patience and the ability to breathe, trust and cope.

Until next time, my lovelies.
-R

Seasons of Life.

Hey hey, my lovelies!  It’s November!  How did THAT happen?  Wasn’t I soaking up sun in the pool like yesterday?  Sigh.  Winter is creeping its way in to the day-to-day of the ‘hood and it gives me much to be reminded about my love/hate relationship with the next three months at Chez Ray.

I’ve talked about my lifelong quest against that bitch named depression, but I wanted to focus on the seasons of our life in this post.  I’m also very pleased to reveal the fourth and final hair photo of this year’s series with Kel-Z Photography!  Behold straight and crazy hair, polka dots and lying on cobblestone at the Union Station in Ogden, Utah.  Cobblestone, you say?  Yep.  And the answer is no, it is not comfortable, but it looks cool so who cares??

I often forget that there are seasons in my life, both literally and figuratively, that I struggle with more than others.  Transition and change is hard for me. I was raised in a home with parents who valued roots and consistency.  We were all about traditions in our family, meaning we did the same things over and over every year for the holidays.  That proved to be really challenging for me as a young adult because I found myself being depressed because I was forced to spend Christmas Eve alone or not be able to travel home to visit my family.  At some point I finally came to terms with this fact: sometimes we have to do it alone and it’s OK.  Christmas Eve alone didn’t last very long once my family found out and I’ve since spent the holidays with my aunt and uncle and cousins and am never wanting for company during Christmas. 

Figuratively, seasons of emotional health come and go as well.  When I was in organized therapy, there was always this goal to complete the task.  Be done with weekly, bi-weekly then monthly visits.  I felt like I could check off the box and be done.  Therapy – check, double check, here’s my token t-shirt for the road.  However, I was taken aback when my therapist looked at me and said, “it’s ok for you to come back if you need to.  We call them booster visits in this office.”  I laughed it off because I thought I was better than that.  I had put in my time and I was bustin out of this joint.  Wrong.  Within a year, I was back on the sofa with my shoes off and my journal open sharing some of my struggles and getting my booster dose.  I was and still am eternally grateful for my Jennifer and her scrupulous note taking about my jacked up life and even better emotional roller coaster at that time.  I still really hated my reality even though I had just paid hundreds of dollars to get over the other set of crappy realities in my life.  Once I moved to Ogden, I breathed a sigh of relief because I FINALLY felt happy, I loved my neighborhood and I fit in.  I could rest easier beause my life was going to be EASY now compared to what it was in Salt Lake.

My days of unicorns, rainbows and clicking of red shoes in the ‘hood was numbered and I soon had some struggles set in with work.  Wait, what?  This isn’t supposed to be happening.  I just worked in hell at the last place, that can’t happen again.  But, it sorta did.  Ugh.  I pressed on and I took it as an opportunity to create sunshine in a season that was turning out to be a really crappy situation. 

Now fast forward to the last year.  I talked about the journey it’s been in my last post, but I have really felt the seasons of life pass before me in ways that I loathe and love.  I’ve had some life goals in my heart forever that I’ve been able to accomplish in the last couple of months. Along with that I’ve cried some big tears over mistakes and stupidity that appears to be a common denominator with me.  It’s dumb.  I fell APART last week because my lady plumbing appointment, which was grossly overdue, did not go as I had hoped.  I mean, how glamorous can anything with a paper gown and stirrups be?  But, I’ve had super chill appointments in the past and this one threw me off guard.  I lost my marbles in the bathroom and my boss found me.  Oops.  New employee is a sniveling, imperfect mess.  We talked long enough for me to stop sobbing and I tried to recount what had happened.  What finally came out of my mouth was this, “let’s back up this train and remember that I have just been through one of THE most stressful years of my life and apparently I didn’t lose weight in stress this time around.”  Le.  Sigh.  My boss offered some really consoling words about my worth and my beauty and I stopped crying and went back to my desk.  Can we all say it together, “DAMN the seasons of life!”  I was really really upset for about 4 days because my waistline took the biggest hit (besides my pride and my finances) during my unemployment ride.  But, the best part of this is knowing that it is only for but a small moment and I will be OK.  I feel better this week, but holy hell, I was one emotional girl last weekend.  Lame.  I hate it when I’m the girl that drives me the most crazy. 

In conclusion I would like to share a really special video with all of you.  My co-worker’s wife recently embarked on a project that will bring you to tears.  It’s entitled, “1000 words: A Silent Interview on Self Worth” and it takes the viewer on a journey of facial expressions and body language as a group of women and girls are asked questions about their life and the seasons that come and go.  I could hardly believe the power and hurt and emotion that came across as these women displayed their vulnerability.  I have included the video below and I hope you will take the time to watch it with all the women in your life, whether young or old.  The questions that are asked are critical and they remind me that we do NOT give ourselves enough credit, nor do we give others the benefit of the doubt that they might be in a really shitty season of life. 

The moral of the story:  Just like the leaves change and the snow falls from the sky, our lives bring seasons of change that last for a small moment, but still bring beauty and magic to our lives. 

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

Guest Blogging: Pizza & Fighting Stigmas

Hello, my lovelies!  It's been an exciting summer and beginning of fall for me with lots of great blogs and feedback from all of you!  Among the many adventures, I was asked to guest blog for two blogs.  Please take a moment to read them!

Indie Ogden Utah: Peace. Love. Pizza.  - Business Feature on Lucky Slice Pizza in Ogden, UT.

"If you’ve been on Historic 25th Street you know there are LOTS of great restaurants, however only one of them offers peace, love and pizza to all that come to visit."

LINK TO THIS POST

Stigma Fighters: The Face of Depression.  

"I've often wondered what depression would look like from the inside out.  If we could use a microscope and snap a photo of what it looked like festering and burning inside someone's body......"

LINK TO THIS POST

Thank you for all of your continued support!  This adventure is just as much yours as it is mine!

Keep finding your sunshine!

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

The Boston Girl : Becoming A Woman.

Becoming a woman.  A loaded statement if there ever was one.  I sometimes think back on my childhood and how I dreamt for my own money and the ability to choose and cook my own food and what clothes I wore all the time.  Ha!  What little I knew.  Adulting is hard!  It has its perks aka no curfew on Fridays or pizza for breakfast, but overall, the trade for the opportunity to pay bills and fix my car and do my own laundry isn't worth an unsupervised all-nighter and carb overloaded brunch from time-to-time.

Throughout my career vacation and book reading extravaganza, I've been inspired and moved by the characters I've met in each book. The most recent book that really touched me was "The Boston Girl" by Anita Diamant. The themes, tragedies and triumphs of this story brought me to tears and had me laughing just a bit, but overall it made me SO grateful to be a woman in an era when the quest for equality is present and mutual respect for women of any status is encouraged.  The women in this story lived during a time when their vote and their voice didn't matter and it wasn't easy.

The story takes place in the early 1900's in Boston.  Boston.  I heart Boston.  I'm convinced a piece of my heart still lives in Boston.  I visited while I was in college and it is a magical city.  The history, food (Cheers! - be still my heart), waterfront view, energy and cute Harvard boys rowing on the river all the time made it basically my heaven.  I loved every minute of being there. For this small town girl, the Boston version of city life was and is one that I dream of often.  One of the best parts of Boston is the historical district.  I caught a glimpse of it when I went to Cheers! to have dinner one evening.  Big, beautiful Victorian homes that took my breath away. I would love to say that the characters in the book were residents of these types of homes, but they were not.  They were a blue-collar Jewish family that did everything they could to survive living in their sufficient and very small flat.

Whenever I read a book I always look for themes that I can use in my own life and possibly a future blog post (nerd alert).  This book is full of themes that struck me to the core: women's rights, depression, death and mourning, religious respect and equality, family history and love.  Never ever forget the love.

The main character of the book is a grandmother who is giving her granddaughter a personal history of her life as a young Jewish girl in a family that had its struggles and much happiness.  As I read this book I thought of my own grandmothers and what they would tell me about being a young woman in their day and age.  What did they worry about?  What mattered to them?  What boys were they kissing before they met my grandfathers?  What was their love story and how did they know they had finally met the one they were going to marry?

There were a couple of specific quotes that I wanted to share with all of you and why they were memorable for me.  I won't tell you where they lie in the grand scheme of the book so there is still an element of surprise for the plot.

"When I look at my eighty-five-year-old face in the mirror today, I think, "You're never going to look better than you do today honey, so smile."  Whoever said a smile is the best face-lift was one smart woman." This is beautiful.  There are so so so so many days that smiling is the last thing we want to do.  How do we keep a smile on our face when we've had a major disappointment?  How do we smile through the tears when we've lost a loved one?  How do we smile when the bank account is depleted and the fridge is empty and the car needs gas?  Well, we just do. Fake it to make it.  If we really got technical and scientific, we would talk about the fact that there are muscles in our face that need stretching just as much as those everywhere else.  Stretch them, my lovelies!  Put a smile on your face and embrace the beauties and blessings of your life even amidst the storms.

"She said she felt better talking to someone she could see, someone who cared about her.  "The time I almost died in that bathtub, what kept me going was the look on your face and Irene's and that wonderful nurse.  I could see how worried you were, not angry or disappointed.  You just didn't want me to die.  And afterward, too, you never looked at me with anything but love: no pity, no judgement.  You made it possible for me to forgive myself."  Phew.  I so wish I could tell you the story behind this, but you'll have to read the book to understand the significance of this statement.  Even typing it brought a lump to my throat. In my own life, I have been immensely blessed with so many kind, patient friends and family members who have stood in front of me and embraced me and proved to me how much they cared. In our insanely BUSY and technology-driven world, it is very easy to shoot someone a text and tell them we care, but the human-in-front-of-human interactions are SO critical.  I loved the reference to looking at someone with 'anything but love.'  That is a magical moment, no matter the relationship or its status.  The connection that one can feel when their friend, family member, lover looks at them to convey their compassion is electric. It can save the day.  It can calm the heart and soothe the soul. When was the last time you felt that electricity in your own life? Thank the person. Hug them back. Say, "I love you."

"Women used to think we were supposed to act as if nothing had happened, as if losing a baby you wanted wasn't a big deal.  And if you did say something, people told you that you'd forget all about it when you have a healthy baby.  I wanted to punch them all in the face."  When I wrote my blog post "In My Life" I talked about some conversations I had that inspired me to write the post.  One of those was a conversation with my dear friend who has multiple angel babies waiting for her in heaven.  This week I witnessed the pain that is being felt by another friend who is facing the one year anniversary of her angel baby returning to heaven.  Women are still facing the grief and pain that surrounds bearing and losing children.  Medical advances are vast compared to 1925, but pregnancy and birth is still risky business and takes great faith.  I commend my darling friends for their great strength and faith as they face their life of saying the number of pregnancies vs. living children.

"The Boston Girl" is a book that I will not forget for a long time.  It gave me a perspective and appreciation for becoming a woman. I am LUCKY to have a vote, a voice, an education and a career that I enjoy.  I am also LUCKY to have my health and an understanding of how I can cope on the days that aren't so easy.

The moral of the story:  Becoming a woman in 2015 hasn't changed much from 1925.  The scenery and fashion has changed, but ultimately, we still have trials and triumphs and hope for sunshine and happiness after the storm.  Keep looking life in the face with love.  Never EVER forget the love.

Until next time, my lovelies.
-R