The best of times...

There is a line in a song by Jimmy Eat World that goes - 'I'll tell you something else that you ain't dying enough to know; there's still some living left when your prime comes and goes'. Another one that sticks in my head is a line from a very old John Mellencamp song - 'oh yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone'... Who decides when your prime begins and ends? and I believe that the thrill of living should never be gone.

When I was in high school, I was often told to "enjoy this time, these are the best years of your life." What A Load of CRAP. My high school years were a painful beginning to an aventurous life for sure; but the best years of my life? Not even close. There were memorable pockets that I cherish, but the overall feel was about getting the hell out of there so I could get to the business of 'the real world'. I don't mind the occasional road trip back in time but I certainly do not dwell in that place.

Unfortunately, I know a lot of people who live in the past. They are so busy lamenting about the things that have long since gone - that they forget to focus on the now. It breaks my heart to see that, because life happens daily. New memories can be carved out of every moment you pay attention to, so you can keep adding them to your collection. Those fat old men who sit around griping about their football glory years, the washed up prom queens who bitterly avoid the mirror, those sad people with houses that are shrines to the past; you guys are really missing out.

I used to get stuck on my road trips back; the thing that ties me to specific points in time is music. I have folders on my computer where the music is divided out by what year it reminds me of. I would put on one song, then another, then another: and next thing you know I'm completely trapped in 1985. It was all about my life 'before'. Before my brother died, before my mom died, before my divorce, before before before. I was really miserable and thought 'wow this is it? this is as good as it gets?'. Lucky for me - I somehow moved past that way of thinking and grew into someone who finally figured out how to stay in the now: and keep the now fresh.

I've come to believe that 'the best of times' happen in pockets throughout your entire life, and if you're truly paying attention - they happen a lot more frequently than you'd think. Life ebbs and flows, people get caught up in routines and ruts. They feel a longing for something new or some excitement; but rather than creating a new situation, they resort to the old standby; 'Remember that one time when'. I refuse to do that. Your prime ends when you decide it's over. The thrill of living comes from what you continue to make of your life - not by how old you are or the things you've already done. I intend to continue doing the things that keep my life fresh for as long as I'm physically able to. (And then I'll find something else!)

Inner Conflict

I have so many secret places inside of my soul where things try to stay rooted and thrive - while sometimes going months at a time without any tending to. All things die without attention, and I can feel those wonderful things starting to wither away. The things that define me, things that defy me - things that burn in my core and drive who I am. How could I possibly neglect something so vital?

I've come to a realization lately that hurts my heart. I am who I am. To deny my true essence is to lie to myself and become something I am not. It's not my issue if someone else is uncomfortable with the way that I am. I am not broken, there is nothing wrong with me. I am a very passionate and sensual person who enjoys living right on the deliciously wicked edge. I've always been that way - and if I can reignite what has been extinguished then I hope to continue to be that way. I miss the way it feels to unfurl and completely take flight; unafraid to fly while holding nothing back...

I'm truly conflicted inside, and I sometimes doubt the validity of my anguish. However, pain is pain - no matter what the cause - and that makes it worth exploring. It began as a kernel of doubt; an irritating sprinkle of sand that I began to mull over. I silently ran it around inside of my head, until it formed into a pearl of wisdom: a concrete conclusion. I tested the way it felt in my thoughts and on my tongue, finally spoke the words out loud. I'm beginning to feel more and more certain of the conclusions I have come to - but I still cannot decide which road to take. Be true to the real me, or the me I have created.

It would be a lot easier if this place didn't already feel so familiar. I've been here before, and it breaks my heart to be here again. What lesson did I miss? How could I have ignored the signs that were telling me that this road would end the very same way? Why did I allow my heart to take the lead? I'm crouched down inside of myself, wrapped in a ball of indecision. So tired of moving and yet craving movement; so afraid of disruption and yet desiring a change. I straddle two possible worlds and eventually I will have to chose one and leap.

Setting goals

So I set this goal for myself - I want to be in the absolute best shape of my life by my 40th birthday. I have exactly 10 months to accomplish this; which is totally feasible barring any unforeseen monkey wrenches hurtled my way by the cosmic forces that be. (They love throwing monkey wrenches at me. Sometimes I dodge them - sometimes I take them right in the metaphoric groin.)

I have a history of 'almost' successes. I tend to act on whims that I often grow bored with long before they come to fruition. In 1996 I had this bright idea of becoming a fitness model. I worked my ass off and 'almost' succeeded. Instead of ending up in fitness competitions, I started bar hopping and drinking. I was in amazing shape and pretty much ready to go - I just lost interest in it. Ever since then, I've been trying to tap into whatever motivated me at that time knowing that my attention span is a wee bit longer now that I'm older. Last summer I was knee deep in the P90X program when a cosmic monkey wrench knocked me clean out of the running. I am just now feeling recovered enough from that little misadventure to start all over again. (That's what life is all about right? Fall down, get back up - and do it all again?)

My history makes me a little skeptical of setting goals - so I tend to write my goals in pencil. When I actually manage to accomplish a goal I don't even know how to celebrate. I'm too stunned. I do have a super treat in mind if my 40th birthday rolls around and I'm right where I want to be; I wrote that down in ink. I don't want to fail at this because for me things just seem to be getting better as I get older. My 20's were a barren wasteland of shit and mistakes; learning lessons over and over. My 30's started off rough but then progressively grew into the best decade of my life. If that is any indication of the things to come then I am fully ready to embrace my 40's and live without looking back.

I've started back on P90X - taking it a little slow and easy but still doing it. I have issues with hesitation and fear of failure but so far I've been able to push them off into the back of my mind. I also haven't had any of the physical set-backs that caused my first two attempts at starting back up to fail epically. My first week was a bit rough but this program is not easy and I am really out of shape. (I can't BELIEVE how quickly my body crapped out on me!!!) Once I finish the program, I intend to skate until I can't skate anymore this year (and accomplish that goal of 500 miles) and keep up a workout program at the gym. I sincerely hope that this is not another one of my 'almost' successes....

Finding your joy

It seems to me that there are three basic types of people in this world: people who are happy, people who are not - and people who fall somewhere in between. I think the majority of us fall somewhere in between, but I know several who seem to have it all and are miserable; and a few who seem to have nothing and are happy as can be.

I'm not sure what the formula for happiness is but I think it has something to do with being content with what you have and not wanting what you cannot obtain. I'm sure part of it has to do with the realization that money and material items aren't nearly as important as the irreplaceable things (like good relationships) - things that enrich your life without costing a dime. It's about being able to dig into dirt that is barren and infertile and making something grow - a sense of accomplishment. It is also about finding your joy - the magical thing that can transport you away from the stress of your life and bring you back rejuvenated and renewed.

I'll be the first to admit that I am a bit materialistic. For me, material things do bring a degree of happiness. It can be a quick fix, but sometimes that's all I need. Where I find my true joy and happiness though, is being able to indulge in the inner cravings and needs that have nothing to do with retail therapy. My soul is extremely restless and staying stagnant for any amount of time brings me emotional distress. I crave movement, I crave stimulation - I crave interaction. I see the world as a rich and inviting adventure and I want to be out in it.

I am my happiest when I'm out on my skates. (Inline, or 'rollerblading'.) I've been skating for about 16 years, and I'm all about speed and distance. My favorite time to skate is in the early evening - when the sun is about two hours from setting. The burn of my muscles working, the wind in my face, the warmth of the sun on my skin; the sights and sounds of the outdoors - pure bliss. The smells of sunscreen, the river, the trees, and sweat are intoxicating. I keep one earbud in and one earbud out so I can hear my music and still be aware of cyclist coming up behind me. It is sensory overload and completely exhilarating. My heart pounds, my breath quickens, and I am completely involved in every aspect of the experience. Skating engages all of my senses and responses - body and mind working together to accomplish something akin to flying. It's playtime. All of my worries, fears, and stresses melt away. I feel more connected to myself during this than I do at any other time.

I sometimes wish I lived somewhere warm so I could skate year round - as it is now though, I usually start skating in March and get my last skate in October or (if I'm lucky) November. So there's usually only a couple of months where it's too cold and I feel lost. Ice skating doesn't have the same feel to it because usually I'm in an indoor rink and my senses aren't as engaged. I have found something that almost takes me to that same place, and that is snowshoeing. I wish I could bottle the sensation so I could take a whiff and be transported to my happy place anytime I want...

Find your joy. Find the thing that makes you feel 100% aware and connected and immersed in your surroundings. Find the thing that makes your heart pound, your blood race, and your emotions soar. Life is an adventure, don't stand on the sidelines - embrace and experience it for as long as you can....

Letting Go...

The people who truly know me know that I have a really hard time letting go. Not so much of material things like that pair of cargo pants from 1997 that I was determined to fit my ass back into; I finally gave those to the Goodwill a couple of years ago. (I did fit back into them, but by that time they were completely out of style...) No, I'm referring to the people in my life that I hold onto based on what we once were to each other, and not what we are now. I think I hold on because I hope that eventually these relationships will fulfill me like they once did. It took me a very long time to realize that this is not the case. People change, grow; move on.

At the beginning of the year, something happened with one of my friends that forced a change in me. Our friendship had been on the decline for years, but I kept holding on even though I couldn't even relate to this person anymore. We had history together, we were friends in high school - never mind the fact that she was nothing like the person she used to be back then. The friendship ended in a fit of anger, but the relief I felt at finally being able to let go was cathartic. I felt free. I also experience the realization that I don't have to hold on to unhealthy relationships just because 'once upon a time' we were really great friends. Since then I have cut ties with several people whom I've felt to be toxic to me. I have culled the herd around me and now make it a point to only surround myself with healthy and interactive relationships -whether they be online or in real life - if there is no mutually satisfying give and take then I let them go. I want to be fully liberated and freed of all of the crap I carry around inside of me.

So this morning I emailed my high school tormentor. I have known that this girl was on Facebook for quite some time, but just ignored it. This girl made my life a living hell my sophomore year, so much so that I missed so much school trying to avoid her that I got expelled. The pain and the humiliation I suffered because of her has faded over time, but I have never forgotten it. I needed to confront her on it because I don't think she realized just how much damage she'd caused; or maybe she did and just didn't care - maybe she still won't. I don't expect anything in return, I just needed to get it off of my chest once and for all. I needed to let go of all of these things I've been holding on to for the past 24 years. I cried for the girl I was and the things I'd experienced, but the tears were also of joy for finally being able to let it go.

I hope this is a continuing trend; a sign of another life lesson mastered. I've become so much more aware of my time and a desire to fill it with quality interactions. I want to feel satisfied with my relationships; not burdened or strained. Life is much too short to waste on people who suck the life force out of you...

The ignorance of children...

I was randomly reading comments on Twitter where people were listing things that bother them; when I came across a gem obviously written by a little girl. She said she's bothered by 'older women who act like they're still young. You've had your time'... This irked me off for several reasons. First of all, who died and made you the age police? What, we're supposed to hit a certain age and then just stop living? And second of all - define 'old'. I'm fairly certain she's referring to the 30's through 40's crowd, and honey that ain't old! I fall into that category and trust me, I feel anything but.

If there is a rule book out there on what we're supposed to be doing at the certain phases in our lives, then by all means go ahead and quote it. But as far as I know we're all winging it. I'm sure once upon a time there was an 'accepted order of things' - once you hit 18 you'd get married, you'd have a bunch of kids so you could put them to work on your farm; and then you died miserably before you hit 60. These days there are plenty of illegal aliens to work the farms, people are getting married later in life and waiting to start families; if even. Some of us have figured out that life doesn't have to be all work and no play, there can be a very beautiful balance between being a responsible adult and still being a fun-loving child at heart. Young people can't fully grasp this yet because they don't know. Youth is definitely wasted on the young because the wisdom and experience gained during your 30's coupled with the joyful child within are an intoxicating mix. I wouldn't trade being the age I am now with any 20-something anywhere.

There is a line from that old John Cougar Mellencamp song 'Jack and Diane' that has stuck with me since I first heard it: "Oh yeah, life goes on long after the thrill of living is gone". I used to wonder why? Why does the thrill of living have to end? Maybe when you're in your 80's - but even then if you still have a breath in your body, the energy, stamina or desire; then the thrill of living should still be discovered in every waking moment. We have a limited amount of time here, so make very moment count. Or so that's how I'm chosing to live my life anyway...

There comes a point in every life where you are faced with the fact that you are not a kid anymore. You can either chose to accept defeat and become a statistic; allow your life to become a stagnant, boring rut - or you can get out there and live it to the fullest no matter how old you are. All I can say to the ignorant little girls and oblivious little boys is -- 'Just wait.'

Being Bipolar

Here is the definition of Bipolar Disorder according to Wikipedia: "Bipolar Disorder - or Manic-Depressive disorder - is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated mood clinically referred to as mania or, if milder, hypomania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes or symptoms, or mixed episodes in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time. These episodes are usually separated by periods of 'normal' mood"

I was diagnosed with Bipolar II in July of 2000 at the age of 29. (Bipolar II is categorized by severe depressive episodes and hypomania.) I've probably been Bipolar since puberty but I'm sure my mood swings and what-not were explained away as me being 'moody'. I have memories of being so depressed I slept weeks of my life away; as well as periods of time I can now identify as giddy manic episodes. I've never been hospitalized but can recall two specific times in my life when I really should have been. Doctors have always thrown antidepressants at me and sent me on my way; something I now know only made things worse. (Antidepressants given without a mood stabilizer - such as Lithium - can actually cause a Bipolar person to go manic. When I was put on Prozac, I was manic for a year straight.)

My Bipolar disorder kicked into high gear following the death of my brother and mom. I went into a rapid cycle phase; which meant I cycled back and forth from mania to depression; sometimes within the same hour. My behavior was erratic and a few people became concerned. My primary care physician referred me to a psychiatrist; and this began a very important (and extremely painful) phase in my life. I went into his office completely trusting him to take my broken soul and make it whole again - and came out an advocate for being in control of your own health and well-being.

My doctor was an arrogant prick. He diagnosed me in less than four visits and immediately put me on Lithium. Since an uncomfortable symptom of my mania is acute paranoia, he also added an anti-psychotic called Zyprexa. He told me the side effects I could expect were weight gain, increased thirst and a tremor. I experienced weight gain, increased thirst, and a tremor. I also had difficulty swallowing, mental confusion, memory issues, choking fits, vertigo, headaches, nightmares, hallucinations and panic attacks. When I asked the doctor about THOSE symptoms; he told me to 'slow down' when I eat and that I must have a previously undiagnosed panic disorder. For the record - I've NEVER had any issues with panic/anxiety prior to getting on the Lithium and Zyprexa. He increased both medications and sent me on my way.

Looking to exchange information and communicate with other people like me, I signed up with an online community. I started going to my doctors appointments armed with questions based on things I'd read. My doctor told me to 'stop researching' my disorder because it 'fueled' my paranoia. I did no such thing. I read everything I could. I found people who were experiencing the same things I was. I found out the reason you needed your blood tested while on Lithium is because if you get too much in your body it can kill you. (He told me it was to make sure I was at an 'optimal' level.) I kept reading and learning, but I also continued to trust him. After all, he was a doctor and my health and well-being were his priority, right?

In August of 2000, I had just started a new job and was getting ready to start school. I had gained an astonishing 30 lbs in one month and my hands shook constantly. I struggled at my job because of the 'brain fog' but I was DETERMINED to get my life back on track. I woke up one morning not feeling right. My heart was racing, my legs were jello. I felt frantic, panicked. I tried to ignore it. I got in my car and drove to work. I resisted the urge to stop my car in the middle of the road and run. As soon as I got to work, I called my shrink in a panic. He told me to calm down, I was 'just' having a panic attack. It got worse. I went home from work that day and never went back.

The next six weeks are a blur of panic, mental anguish and being completely stoned on Klonopin - an anti-anxiety drug. My shrink finally relented to my demands to get off of Lithium and put me on Depakote: I put on 20 more lbs and half of my hair fell out. I switched from Zyprexa to Seroquel and traded the hallucinations for always feeling hot. (Seroquel effects your bodies internal thermometer so you are never at a consistent temperature. I suspect that this drug is the reason my Thyroid no longer functions.) I finally fired my shrink and found a new one. She was wonderful, but then she quit to raise a family so I found another shrink. And then another one. And another...

I spent the next six years trying to get my life back on track. Every new doctor meant a new regime of medications and side effects. At my worst I was 55 lbs overweight with a rash on my neck, thinning hair and psychological damage that could not be seen. Tears and rips in the fabric of my soul and everything that made me human. I walked around feeling like a zombie, a husk with no meat in it. I even had a doctor tell me that this was the 'desired' effect because numb meant no depression, no mania.

In 2006, I decided that I have had enough. I quit taking EVERY drug. At the time I was on Lamictal (the mood stabilizer) Wellbutrin, (an anti-depressant) and a birth control pill. I quit that too - I figured I'd let my body heal itself and that included my hormones. It took about a year but finally I started to have feeling again - like when you put a rubberband too tightly on your finger then when you take it off, your finger tingles and hurts but eventually it feels like your finger again. That was my soul.

I am not defined by my Bipolar disorder, nor do I try to contain or restrain it. Through cognitive behavioral therapy (the route I sincerely wish I would have taken FIRST) I have learned a level of self-awareness that some people probably never achieve. I know when hypomania is coming on. I know what to expect, what route it will take; the things I will feel and the things I will do. I channel my impulses into writing so I don't act out. When I hit a depressive cycle, I ride it out - I enjoy the gentle melancholy that circles around me like a blanket. I enjoy it because I FEEL it. It makes me feel alive. I write poetry, I take walks; I nap if I have to. I don't fight it - I let it be what it is, because it is a PART of who I am. I am not ashamed of it, nor am I embarrassed by it. My Bipolar disorder adds a new dimension to how I experience the world. I will never, ever try to slay the dragon again - now that I have learned how to co-habitate with it. I have found that maintaing a healthy lifestyle (diet, exercise and vitamins) helps; as does keeping my environment as stable as possible.

I feel I am very lucky that I can function this way; there are a lot of people who cannot function without the medications, but I also know that there are a LOT of people who are way over-medicated. I know people who use their Bipolar disorder as an excuse or a crutch. I know people with Bipolar disorder who deny they even have Bipolar disorder. Those are their lives to live, and their roads to travel, and their demons to tame. My journey is mine and I do not judge others on how they manage their burden. I've just learned how to embrace mine.