Out of the Mouths of Babes

This week I learned something so important to me. All this time I have thought of myself a weak. Because of the depression. Because of my failed marriage. Because my current marriage is not very stable. Because of my anxiety. Because I am not always as assertive as I should be. Because I just don't think of myself as the Joan of Arc type, though I wish I were.

Well, this week that changed a little. This week had been really beating me up emotionally, as well as, physically.in the midst of that was my baby girl. My wise beyond her years, little wonder. She spotted me crying and immediately wanted to run to my side. Her grandmother said "your Momma is ok. Sometimes even grown-ups need to cry, but she's ok" and my daughter responded with "but you don't understand, Momma only cries when she is really hurt". At that moment I realized that, not only do I have the sweetest child on the planet, but that in her eyes I am strong. I am strong until I can no longer be strong, and even then I'm strong for a little longer. In her eyes, her Momma was not weak, not clinically depressed, but a strong woman. And if he Momma was crying, it was not for no reason, someone had hurt her.

Wow, what a wonderful feeling to not only feel how much your child loves you, but that she thinks you are strong enough to stand alone most of the time. To feel that to see me cry meant someone or something bad must have happened, because her strong Momma would not cry unless she was really hurt. Made me proud of myself, and proud of her. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.

Connecticut Shooting

Our society needs to take a long, hard look at how we deal with the mentally ill. They are not "crazy people" on the fringe of society. They have a real illness, that needs real medical treatment. Until we take mental health seriously, and stop stigmatizing those who have it, we will continue to see an increase of violents. Like anyone else with a life threatening illness, the mentally ill need access to quality doctors and medications. Promote health, not stigmas

The Black Dog

Damn you black dog, damn you
You killer of of hope
You stripper of self confidence
You suffocater of joy
You eroder of spirit
You destroyer of ambition
You avalanche of sadness
You enabler of defeat
You shader of light
You devourer of energy
You tourcherer souls

Perspective

Really great article & exercise. Wish it could be tried by everyone.


It’s unreasonable to expect others to accept or consider our perspective if we’re not willing to do the same for them. The truth is that the world isn’t really “as it is,” but as we see it, and we all see it differently!

http://www.positivelypositive.com/2012/09/25/the-power-of-perspective/

Love Thyself, Honor Thyself

I used to look in the mirror and see shapes, colors, good hair days, bad hair days, flaw, flaw, flaw. Now, I am 36, and I see myself more clearly than before. Not in a book smart way, or a scientifically accurate way, but in the sense that I have come to know ME.Some people claim that we are born with basic personality traits. Others, believe we become who we are based on experiences we have in our lives.Still others, believe we are born with traits that are switched on or off based on our personal experiences. No matter how you get there,shouldn't we KNOW what makes us, us? I think we do, but we allow ourselves to be lead astray by self-doubt,and the words of others. At what point did this happen? At what point did my voice become confused, mixed, over powered by the voices of others? At what point did I become what others thought of me, instead of who I wanted to be? When was that moment. Maybe it wasn't a moment at all. Maybe, I was worn away over time, like stone worn down by wind and rain. Reworked, and reshaped, by the elements around it until it only partly resembled its original appearance. Maybe, I too was reshaped by the voices and the elements around me until slowly, without realizing it I lost me. Now, years later, I am found. I no longer see what the mirror reflects back to me, but I see value in the uniqueness of then shapes. I see shades in the colors. I see good hair days, bad hair days, fun hair days, and days when what my hair is doing just doesn't matter. The flaws are still there. I still see them, but I also see good. I see strength, resilience, and power. Lines formed from years of laughter and tears. The voices, the elements, they are still all around me. They still creep into my head. Echo in the canyons of my mind. Trying to change my shape, challenge my shape. At times, I feel them beginning to alter me, and I must look deep within myself. If I close my eyes, quiet my mind, and repeat to myself "Love thyself, honor thyself”. Then, then the voices become whispers on a much gentler breeze, and I remember me.

Art Therapy/ Walk

For Michelle, ok more for me at Michelle's suggestion.

The Fog

It is.one of those nights again. It feels heavy. My chest is heavy, myhead is heavy with thought, my heart is heavy, and most of all my mood is heavy and gloomy. Could i be tired? I could. Is it a passing mood? Maybe. but it seems to me that ot has been moving in on me for a few weeks now. Like a slow thick fog rolls across a mountain, thwn settles into a valley to stay for a spell, encompassing and covering all that dwells there. So too has this heaviness rolled in over me and my every day, encompassing all of my thoughts, and deeds. There is a hopelessness that comes with it. A, sort of, surender to the commonness of this feeling. And yet in this serender, this lack of fight, there is a sense of freedom. A sense that this heaviness is familiar, and that the sheer knowledge that there is no use in fighting, makes it more tolerable. when the sun rises and its bright warm rays heat the valley and all with in it, even the thickest of fogs burns away.