So you’ve probably noticed that it’s been kind of quiet around here lately. Even though I’ve been moving through so many different situations at what seems like the speed of light, for the first time in my 35 years, I seem to be out of words to describe what’s currently going on in my life.

I haven’t really known how to BE in this place, because always before, even if everything else fell apart, I could always fall back on a cushion of words to soften the blow. So I turned to one of my tried and true coping strategies, namely; “When in doubt, freak out.”

Because I am nothing if not generous, not to mention an excellent Drama Queen, I decided to share the freaky love with my coach during one of our sessions.

“GOD,” I announced, in my best, quivering, innocent-victim-of-the-universe voice, “God has taken all my words away! The one thing I most loved to do in the world, and now He’s taken it away from me for no reason!”

In what can only be described as a Superhuman Exercise Of Will which most likely led to severe internal hemorrhaging on her part, not only did my coach NOT laugh at me, but somehow she was also able to ask me helpful, non-mocking coachful questions to help me work through this issue.

“Well,” she asked, “does everything you write on your blog have to be funny?”

“Uh, DUH! YES!!” I replied. (Aren’t I just a dream client? Don’t you want to coach me too?) Fortunately she has raised two children, so she never takes snottiness personally.

“OK,” she replied, recognizing an Intractable Brick Wall Of Stubbornness when she saw one, “think about this. You had a plan for your blog when you started it three years ago. But you’re not the same person you were three years ago. Think about everything that has happened over the past year. So what if you could allow your blog and your writing to change, and reflect who and where you are now?”

She makes a good point. Especially given the fact that, if I had to give it a title, the theme of this past year would be,

I have hurt, in some way, every single day, for the past eight months.

Eight months of sickness, trauma, my life being completely out of my control, and pain.

One day last October I lost my health. Not because of anything I did or didn’t do. Not for any logical, rational reason. Just ‘cuz.

Overnight, I lost the ability to be the person I had been, and do everything I’d been doing up to that point.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with.

I never knew pain could hurt like this.

And even though I seem to have reached a place where the original illness is gone and the side effects are more or less managed, who’s to say they won’t show up again one day, out of the blue, for absolutely no reason at all? My body, my mind, my emotions, they are all tied up in knots and braced against more pain. Because I remember the pain. And I don’t know if I could bear to go through it again.

This was, and continues to be, a huge trauma for me. And I really don’t know how to be with it.

But I am still here. I do show up every day, even if all I do is open my eyes in the morning and acknowledge that I’ve arrived at the beginning of another day.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

So I had this big plan to write a whole “2007 In Review” post today. But I’m not, because I don’t feel good.

I’ve treated it pretty lightly here, but the truth is that I’ve actually been really sick for the past three months, and am probably looking at a few months of recovery and recuperation.

Fortunately I was told about this great website called CaringBridge, which is a free, nonprofit web service that connects family and friends to share information, love and support during a health care crisis, treatment and recovery.

If you’d like to check out my page, read a little more about my experience with C DIF, or sign my guest book, you can find me here:

Jenny’s CaringBridge site

Here’s to a happy, healthy 2008 for us all!

First of all, I have to say that my support system of amazing friends and family TOTALLY ROCKS!

On Tuesday when I found out I have temporary arthritis as a result of that stomach infection, I had a major meltdown. I just reached the absolute end of my ability to deal with life.

And then, when I could not do one more thing on my own, that is when everyone else swung into action for me.

When I could not move any more, they came to carry me.

I am not invincible. I can not do it all myself. I had to ask for help.

And surprisingly, the world did not end. I’m still okay.

Thank you.

There are many things for which I am grateful to my friend, Lynne, but one of my favorites is the fact that she was the person who introduced me to the fantastic phrase, “Just ‘cuz.”

Until I met her, nothing in my life had ever been done “just ‘cuz”. I always backed up everything I decided to do with case plans, legal arguments, graphs, pie charts, handouts, and a Power Point presentation so that, if asked, I could at any moment give a detailed presentation on exactly why I should be allowed to do the activity in question, and exactly how it would lead to some sort of measurable result such as more money or a better job.

Then I met Lynne.

And one day when I was telling her about some kind of training I wanted to take, and I finished my whole song-and-dance routine of justifying why I wanted to do this, she said, “What if you just did this. Just. ‘Cuz.?”

For a while I was speechless, mostly because I was involved in picking all the pieces of my brain up off the floor. And then I was all, “Oh, sure, but first why don’t I go rob a bank, and then go knock off a chain of convenience stores because, HELLO!, you are not allowed to do something just because you want to and you think it will be fun. What’s wrong with you?!”

But truth be told, I was fascinated with this idea. It was sort of like mental cocaine, the idea that maybe, just maybe, I could actually do the things I wanted to do just ‘cuz. No need for any lengthy dissertations or comprehensive oral exams where I had to prove my worthiness. Just. ‘Cuz.

So ever since then I have been luxuriating in the freedom this thought brings. Like, the kind of luxuriating where you roll around naked in giant piles of money while your handsomely oiled and scantily-clad pool boys fan you with large palm fronds and hand feed you individual pieces of gourmet chocolate on the beach of your own, private, Caribbean island.

Yes, I’ve been living it up big time with these two little words. And then recently, I discovered yet another liberating aspect of this powerful thought.

As I’ve written before, during the past few months I’ve been very involved in learning how to manage my anxiety disorder. I’ve also had to deal with a lot of health challenges, as I often do in the fall.

And while I love all the personal growth work I do, the shadow side of that comes out when I blame myself for my conditions and tell myself things like, “Well, if I were more enlightened, I wouldn’t be having all these problems. If I were just doing this stuff right, I wouldn’t be so sick.”

And once again, Lynne stepped in and helped me see this another way.

“What if,” she suggested, “you are not to blame?”

“What if this is just a thing, like, you just have an anxiety thing?”

“What if,” she posited, “just like we can be happy ‘just ‘cuz’, we can just have an anxiety thing ‘just ‘cuz’?”

“What if you could let yourself off the hook?”

I’m not exaggerating when I say that there is no number high enough for me to describe the amount of shame, judgment, and blame that lifted off my shoulders when she said these things to me. It was such a tremendous relief to have another way to view this situation, one that did not involve the need to constantly abuse myself mentally.

Such a powerful little phrase, those two little words. Once again they are proving to be quite the lifesaver for me.

To read some more great posts about how we can let ourselves off the hook, check out:

“Doing our work” by Lynne Morrell, and

“Positive Attitudes: All Powerful…or Maybe Just Warm and Cozy?” by Alix North.

(my trainer, raising the incline level from 0 to 7 (!!) on the treadmill yesterday for a little interval training)

“I’m gonna raise your cardio if it kills me. Or you. Whichever comes first.”

And my trainer is not the only thing that’s been kicking my ass lately.

I’ve spent the past year doing tons of internal work to clear up a lot of the stuff surrounding my depression and decrease my medication. So I arrived at a really good place only to find that my depression had been masking some huge, intense, and at times, paralyzing anxiety.

So I’ve pretty much spent the past week just wanting to punch life right in the face, along with trying very hard not to peel off all my skin and leave my body. Needless to say, that hasn’t left a lot of time or energy for the funny.

What doesn’t kill you may make you stronger, but before it does that it sure as hell puts you through the wringer.

Every week my friend and fab-o-rama coach, Lynne pulls a Tarot card or a rune for the week, to give us readers something to think about or to explain why certain issues might be “up” for us. This week’s was quite a doozie but I knew exactly what it was talking about, because it pretty much sums up what this past year has been like for me. You can read the entire text at her blog; I’ve excerpted the parts that were particularly applicable to my experience here.

“The role of Nauthiz is to identify our shadow, our dark or repressed side, places where growth has been stunted, resulting in weaknesses that are often projected onto others.”

“This is a time to pay off old debts, to restore, if not harmony, at least balance.”

“When something within you is disowned, that which is disowned wreaks havoc. A cleansing is required here; in undertaking it, you will fund a will and strengthen character.”

“Thus you are required to undergo the dark side of your passage and bring it into the light.”

Yup, that pretty much sums it up quite nicely. But as you know, if you’ve ever gone racketing around in your own unconscious for an extended period of time, there’s a b-i-g difference between reading these words on a page and actually undergoing the process. A difference which I think can best be expressed by the phrase HOLY. F&%@!!

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Lately I’ve been having a lot of fun playing around on Facebook. I love pimping out my profile with pictures of LOL Cats, badges from my favorite TV shows, and my stats as a Pirate sailing the cyber seas.

But I’ve made a few missteps too, such as declining an invitation from a friend who wanted to turn me into a zombie. Call me crazy but I’m kind of attached to my soul, and I’m really not that keen on becoming a minion of the undead.

Apparently it’s unwise to anger the undead however, because in response to my deciding to maintain my status as a human being my friend dedicated a song to me. And now, prominently displayed on my Facebook profile is the phrase, “Detachable Penis.”

I wasn’t really sure how to react to that, but one of my new friends was very excited. “How could I miss out on adding a friend who has “Detachable Penis” playing?” she asked. “If it weren’t for you, I’d not know this tune existed… and that would be wrong.”

On the one hand I thought, “Cool. Even though I’m in the metaphorical desert, I’m glad to see that I’m still using my powers for good.” And on the other hand I thought, “Hm, how interesting that now this is the kind of thing I’m known for.”

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I have been feeling exceptionally un-funny lately, and I believe it’s because I’ve been wandering around my own personal version of The Desert.

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I guess none of us really know what to say about what happened this week at Virginia Tech. But we feel like we ought to say something, so we do the best we can.

I’ve always felt a connection to the state of Virginia. I was born in Alexandria, grew up in Woodbridge, and went to school in Dale City for the first 13 years of my life. But then, 2 months before I turned 13 and right before I was to start the 8th grade, my family moved to North Carolina. This was, absolutely, The End Of The World As I Knew It.

I did not do a very good job of dealing with this change. To give myself credit I was only 13, and I had just left the only life I’d ever known. And, as it turned out, I had depression that went undiagnosed until I was 21.

Unfortunately the only way I knew how to deal with my misery was to take it out on everyone around me. I never hurt anyone physically, but I’m pretty sure I wounded a lot of people with my words and my attitude. I was angry. Hostile. Nasty. Judgmental. Intolerant. Self-righteous. I’d left a church school to come to a private, non-religious school, and left a more Northern culture only to find myself smack dab in the middle of all things Southern. So you’d better believe I took every opportunity I could find to look down upon all those “stupid Southern sinners” I suddenly found myself surrounded by.

Needles to say, I was not a very nice person to be around. And the people around me responded by not being very nice back.

I think things would have been A Lot worse if it hadn’t been for the people who were able to look past the fact that the only way I knew how to take care of myself and get my needs met was by being a jerk, and who chose to reach out and offer to help me.

And in light of what happened this week at VA Tech, I decided it was time for me to say thank you to all these people who made such a difference in that totally freaked out teenager’s life.

-my friends Liz, Julie, Kacey, and Kelly, and their parents, for giving me someone to talk to and somewhere safe and friendly to go

-Robyn, who was also a new student in the 8th grade, who took the time to notice that I was not handling things well and to tell me that she thought I needed to get some help

-my teachers, Miss Minnick, Mrs. Skidmore, Mrs. Ayala, and Mrs. Perkins, who never minded when I’d drop by their classrooms and fill up their planning period with conversation

-my piano teacher, Mrs. McCain, who helped me find a creative outlet

-my youth pastors, Jimmy and Patty Wade, Tim Tinsley, and Angela Thomas

-my husband, who I met and started dating when I was 17. My husband, who truly is the best person I’ve ever known, who saw past all the crazy to the real me underneath when I couldn’t see it, and who told me that it was good. That I was good.

Thank you all for seeing. Thank you for noticing me. Thank you for reaching out and offering to help. Thank you for loving me when I was a big, giant mess. Thank you.

And to all the people to whom I was so mean, most especially my classmates from 8th -12th grade, it is time I told you that I am sorry. I’m really sorry for the way I acted. I wish I’d known how to do things better back then, but I didn’t. The only thing I can say is that I learned from my mistakes, and I know how to do things better now.

I’d like to end this post with the following blessing for anyone who may be reading this.

May you be well.

May you be happy.

May you be free from suffering.

Namaste.

Wherein, I rant. You have been warned.

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