Telling myself the truth.

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I've often been accused of being able to "get over" something quickly like it's a bad thing, or act as if the feeling associated with a bad situation doesn't exist, or move on and "discard" things I see as negative influences in my life with seemingly no consequence. Most recently (and frequently), I've been accused of compartmentalizing.

Samhain is when I typically reflect on the past year, what all has transpired, and what I may learn for the coming turn of the wheel. This one brings with it some interesting challenges: Moving out, custody agreements (and disagreements), making a life on my own, graduate school, breakups and makeups and breakups again... this year really ran the gamut of life-changing, sometimes sucky experiences.

And yes, for the most part, I've been able to separate the feeling from the fact, accomplish what I needed without a lot of fuss or muss. I initially found that ability not at all detrimental; in fact, I found it beneficial, as I could disentangle myself from the emotional bullshit that comes from the situation.

I explored this more when prompted this week to write a poem using Dorianne Laux's Heart as the example. Choose a word, reflect on it, then write a poem of metaphors.

I originally had "compartment" at the top of my assignment, thinking that would be its direction. The more I researched the word's meaning, though, the less I thought it applied:

Compartmentalization (in psychology) is an unconscious psychological defense mechanism used to avoid cognitive dissonance, or the mental discomfort and anxiety caused by a person's having conflicting values, cognitions, emotions, beliefs, etc. within themselves.

So it did end up being inappropriate; while I do have my coping mechanisms, there's no cognitive dissonance experienced by removing the feeling. It's just... removing the feeling in the first place.

Freudian psychoanalysis provides more appropriate ego defense mechanisms:

Isolation occurs when an individual separates ideas or feelings from thoughts or situations, notably those producing anxiety or stress, and often replaces them with purposeful happiness.

Intellectualization, a form of isolation, concentrates on the intellectual components of a situation in particular so as to distance oneself from the associated anxiety-provoking emotions (that is, thinking to avoid feeling).

Third perceptual position is a way to "achieve" intellectualization, where the individual adopts an independent observer role to gain new perspective and simultaneously removes their own emotion from the situation.

They're not great coping mechanisms by any means; in fact, after finding these, I readily see why someone would say I'm stoic or avoiding or, more positively, able to "see the silver lining" in everything.

This especially comes to light when I think about the last year and the biggest change therein: Deciding to divorce. Even here, I waxed poetic about getting my best friend back when, all defense mechanisms aside, I was destroyed and thought myself a failure. I hated asking for a divorce, I hated feeling like I didn't do enough, and honestly... I hated Matt, too, for his part in why I asked.

I refused to deal with the emotions as they came up, instead trying to find some reason for being and a glimmer of hope when all I wanted to do was collapse in my new kitchen, alone and dejected, and sob. It does eventually rear its ugly head, resulting in a depression lasting for days or even weeks at a time, but in an effort to get the shit over with, I emotionally isolate.

... I don't really know what I'm doing with this post. Maybe, by virtue of finding and internalizing my findings, I can do a better job feeling emotions as they come up rather than subconsciously positioning myself as a third party. Maybe this is just a way of recognizing and there's no real need to change.

Maybe... maybe this is a big fat fuck you to anyone who thinks I'm without emotion because frankly, how many people are open about hearing others' struggles? Who really wants to hear that my divorce is killing me? Who asks "how are you" with true intentions of wanting to know, rather than doing it out of social convention?

And after almost 32 years, who wants to believe I'm anything but happy?

I suppose this is me telling myself, it's okay to feel shitty sometimes, even in the moment. It's okay to acknowledge it, to feel it, to express it. It's okay for others to think you have no emotions, but it's reasonable to expect them to take those emotions seriously when you do feel them and express them to others, as they do exist and are felt and are often experienced deeply.

If they're not okay with that? Well. There's their big fat fuck you.

If they are? Then thank you... thanks for helping me acknowledge and feel and express, even if it's difficult for both or all of us. Especially if I struggle.

... I really don't have much more to say on this. But it feels good to finally tell myself the truth.

Medicine Cards: Armadillo

I was writing out a list of personal boundaries (because honestly, I've never done it before, and now being in my 30s and writing them down, I see how important they really are) when the armadillo came across my Facebook feed. I found it interesting, so I did a little investigation on the animal totem and discovered this story. I swear, the Universe sometimes works in strange ways...


Armadillo wears its armor on its back, its medicine a part of its body. Its boundaries of safety are part of its total being. Armadillo can roll into a ball and never be penetrated by enemies.



What a gift it is to set your boundaries so that harmful words or intentions just roll off. Your lesson is in setting up what you are willing to experience. If you do not wish to experience feeling invaded, just call on Armadillo medicine.



If Armadillo has waddled into your cards, it is time to define your space. [...] It may be time to ask yourself the following questions: (1) Am I honoring the time I need for my personal enjoyment? (2) Do others treat me as a doormat? (3) Why do I always get upset when I am taken for granted? (4) Is there a reason for my being a "yes" person?



[...] If you have no boundaries, you are like a sponge. It will seem as if all the feelings in a room full of poeple must be yours. Ask yourself if you are really feeling depressed, or if this feeling actually belongs to the person you are talking to. Then allow Armadillo's armor to slide in between, giving you back your sense of self.



[...]



The underside of Armadillo is soft, but its armor will protect this softness if the boundaries are in place. Hiding from your true feelings and fearing failure or rejection will amplify your need for cast-iron protection. You have the power to rid yourself of these doubts and to touch the deepest part of beingness. You will know you are doing the right thing.


Overview: Respect your Sacred Space. Drop hesitations and banish abuse. Use proper boundaries and thrive.

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Cracked.

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I'm not going to crack. There's too much in this world that brings me joy, pleasure, excitement, unbridled happiness, and to forsake all that for the darkness that envelops me... I can't crack.

 

It's so easy to forget all that is good when your perception of the world flatlines. Not really dead, but not really here; hovering just in the middle, where even finding something truly enjoyable is suppressed by the weight of all things heavy and disheartening and depressing.

 

I've been like this for a couple days now with no real sign of the clouds lifting. Those of you who also suffer depression know it just happens -- one day, you're driving down the road on your way to work and you wonder if it would really be all that bad if one of the two-by-fours in the truck ahead of you dislodged and flew through your windshield. It's not a serious thought, really, but you're struck by how little you believe that matters, or that anything actually matters.

 

All the energy I have is devoted to mustering even a breath. Writing this? Difficult, considering I can't feel my arms. And the voices in my head telling me "you're worthless, why would anyone want to stay, don't say anything, keep to yourself, you're shitty and no one loves you..." they end up taking away that energy to breathe, to type, to rationalize.

 

But I'm still here, and at this point, that's really all that counts. I have a beautiful boy and a strong love keeping me afloat, though neither understands what's going on or how to help, if they can at all. Sometimes, all you need is for your son to laugh uncontrollably as you make "tickle bubbles" in the pool, or for your partner to offer their hand... not grab it, not drag it over, but let it be there for when you need that lifeline.

 

And I have myself. That doesn't feel like much right now -- in fact, having myself feels more like a burden than a blessing, especially as I continue keeping others' feelings in consideration and further neglecting myself by telling myself how undeserving I am. When I return, though? I'll have myself, truly.

 

Something good has to come out of this. I can't be "gifted" with this ugly, manipulative monster and not see how his existence can actually better my life when he's vanquished (until the next time, at least). I've been dealt a hand containing all these shitty low-value cards, but what if they amount to a royal flush?

 

In that spirit, and in the interest of finding a bright spot somewhere, here are my Top Eight Good Things About Depression:

 

1. I have become pretty self-aware.

 

I mean, I consider myself a pretty "happy" person a majority of the time, which is probably why it shocks others to the core when I fall victim to depression. Those moments, though, when the darkness sets in and your world comes to a standstill while the planet continues revolving, act as a viewfinder into who you are and force you to become introspective.

 

As a result of this questioning and analyzing, you have a better perspective on how your behavior affects yourself and those around you, and you take active measures to remain cognizant of both. Many great creators -- artists, musicians, poets, writers -- have experienced depression at some point, and it's likely this introspection that leads them to the art they create.

 

2. I am more empathetic.

 

Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve, but I've noticed those who speak little to others actually reach out to me in need. I like to think struggling with your own inner demons leads to a better understanding of what's important to others, and when you share that importance with them, it makes them feel appreciated and valued. I've had some fascinating discussions with people who want only to be heard by someone who truly wants to hear about their passions.

 

3. Depression helps my thinking.

 

Okay, not all the time -- see the two-by-four. There are times when the thoughts only serve to hurt you. But those less threatening obsessions and ruminations actually become fodder for analytical thinking. Your brain is constantly on the treadmill, running through its monstrous thoughts ("he hates me, he never loved me, and why would he considering who I am"), then once you realize it's the monster thinking and not you, seeking ways in which that monster is wrong.

 

4. I don't have a choice about staying physically fit.

 

Yoga is one of my mainstays for staying sane, so I practice at least twice a week. I'm developing a home practice, too, with the help of some killer podcasts. I've also developed a link between eating well and positive days; perhaps more importantly, there exists the desire to drown myself in carbs and cheese and chocolate and other crap food when I'm feeling down, and that only serves to make me feel even heavier (in more ways than just physically).

 

I'm by no means disciplined, and sometimes I do give in to those desires -- my lunch today is leftover lasagna, speaking of carbs and cheese -- but eating better and exercising means feeling better, too.

 

5. I am less judgmental.

 

You've heard the demand for people to pull themselves "up by their bootstraps," right? Even if they're giving their all, it's never enough for those who believe everyone can do better. Being disabled by a disease that wrecks my life to varying degrees every month or two, I know firsthand just how difficult it is to tear yourself out of bed and brush your teeth, much less the effort someone may need to put in every day to accomplish at least that much. I also know what it's like to be judged by these efforts, and like hell will I ever judge anyone for putting in the most they can, even if it seems very little to those around them.

 

6. I've cultivated compassion.

 

When you have experienced the want to cry in the middle of a board room for no reason at all, you become attuned to people who want to do the same. Even listlessly staring into space can be sign enough that someone needs to know they're valued, they're loved, they're important. Now when I see someone tearing up, I instantly tune into my intuition, feeling the weight of their sadness, and offer a hand or a hug if they want. It's nice to know someone recognizes it and cares about you, even if it's a small gesture of kindness.

 

7. I retreat!

 

This is a constant work in progress, but I know I get angry and lash out when I fall into a state of depression, and I've learned to say little or to watch my tone when I do speak. It's difficult to keep others' needs in mind when you're not even focusing on your own, but being an asshole when depressed doesn't help the other person, especially since they're likely not the cause. I've even resorted to, "I love you, I just don't love myself right now, and I don't want to say anything I may regret later. I'm going to read for a bit," just to remove myself from situations.

 

8. Every day -- and every little thing -- counts.

 

I've truly believed this in the first place, anyway, but when life is so difficult you feel like literal crap, it's so easy to fall into a negativity trap and allow it to consume us. Good days are easy; I can appreciate the warm sun, my favorite shows, satisfying sex. Doing this when you're depressed? Like you're not already running a marathon to get yourself out the door, now I need to appreciate things, too?

 

Those little things you take for granted when you're happy feel herculean when depressed. Like right now, I am typing, breathing, and listening to music, all the while feeling nothing... so my exercises are to appreciate the ability to read, the clean air mingled with others' lunches cooking up (and their great cooking, if it smells this good!), and the guitar riffs lining up beautifully with the vocals.

 

Even as I write that, it puts me into the present, and those problems or emptiness I felt moments ago lift temporarily. For people suffering depression, there are these brief windows of respite, and those times lead to really clinging to those positive thoughts until they dominate once again.

 

"You have a track record of making it through every single day up to today." And I do. While not every day has been sunshine and roses, I'm still here, and I still right. And when mingled with the sun, these tears will only grow my garden.

 

I like it - I'm not gonna crack

I miss you - I'm not gonna crack

I love you - I'm not gonna crack

I killed you - I'm not gonna crack

 

 

World Health Organization: No long-term benefits to breastfeeding

I have breastfed. I still breastfeed my 19-month-old. If it was up to Tycho, I'm sure we'd be breastfeeding until elementary school (despite my plans to cut him off entirely by at least three -- good thing he doesn't understand that yet!). I enjoy it, he enjoys it, it's a mutually-beneficial relationship, and I'll be sad when it's gone.

But is breast "best"? According to the World Health Organization (WHO), the answer is a resounding "NO".

The WHO recently published Long-term effects of breastfeeding: a systematic review by Bernardo L. Horta and Cesar G. Victoria, both MD, PhDs from Universidade Federal de Pelotas in Brazil. While this study serves mostly to supplement one done under the same name, published in 2007, this 74-page research paper touts the benefits of breastfeeding in the first six months, but also resoundingly shows that there is no evidence for long-term health benefits of breastfeeding.

I bolded that and made it huge because, as a breastfeeder and, even more, as a relactation-er, while breastfeeding for any length of time is a worthy goal that should be socially accepted and assisted to ensure a mother's success (provided it's what she actually wants to do), I did it NOT for the health benefits, but for that mutually-beneficial relationship.

And I strongly believe that, regardless of how you feed your child, you also have the same right to have that mutually-beneficial relationship.

Most people who read this blog (and, for that matter, even have access to the internet) are, I assume, from an industrialized society of some sort, one that has clean water and access to healthy, scientifically-sound, entirely safe and effective infant and toddler formulas. Considering this, any benefits to breastfeeding are small and short-term, so there's no reason for any mother who chooses formula-feeding to feel guilty at all.

And for chrissake, can we stop with this "liquid gold" mantra? It's just milk. Sure, it's your milk, and as someone who relactated, I can appreciate how much each drop matters to a mother. But it is just milk. This nomenclature serves only to humiliate and vilify mothers who feed their babies infant formula, whether by choice or by circumstance.

You're doing great, mama. Absolutely wonderfully. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, and know that you have the WHO (and me!) on your side. ♥

Indigo Children and the "Don't Say No" generation

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Everyone wants to think their child is special, out of the ordinary, even gifted. Often, these terms are attached to children by way of their parents, who would like the rest of the world to see their children the same way and to treat them accordingly.

Bet you all can tell where this post is going! :)

I've been informed recently by a friend that there is such thing in the New Age community as Indigo Children, defined as children believed to possess special, unusual, and sometimes supernatural traits or abilities. The term, coined in the 1970s by self-professed psychic Nancy Ann Tappe, comes from her supposed ability to see auras and her noticing that those born after around 1978 exhibit what she called "indigo auras". Some traits of indigo children include thing like:

1. They are born feeling and knowing they are special and should be revered.
2. An indigo knows they belong here as they are and expect you to realize it as well.
3. These children are more confident and have a higher sense of self-worth.
4. Absolute authority, the kind with no choices, negotiation, or input from them does not sit well. The educational system is a good example.
5. Some of the rules we so carefully followed as children seem silly to them and they fight them. Rigid ritualistic systems are considered archaic to an indigo child. They feel everything should be given creative thought.
6. They are insightful and often have a better idea of method then what has been in place for years. This makes them seem like "system busters."
7. Adults often view an indigo as anti-social unless they are with other indigos. Often they feel lost and misunderstood, which causes them to go within.
8. The old control methods like, "Wait till your father gets home," have no affect on these children.
9. The fulfillment of their personal needs is important to them, and they will let you know.

(via...  yeah, highly reputable source, right there)

It should be noted that, according to Tappe, at least 90% of children under the age of ten are, in fact, indigo children.

It comes as no surprise to most people that I'm not one of your typical New Agers (and yes, in some ways, I do fit this mold), notably in that I am a strong proponent of rationalism, the scientific method, and the academic establishment. While there are some philosophies that rub me the wrong way, most of them are harmless, and affect no one but the believer (and maybe that person's faithful followers).

The idea of "indigo children" in particular really gets my goat. I get that people want to think that their children are special; shit, I'm guilty of wanting that once in a while. Placing the moniker "indigo child" on them, though, seeks to separate them from their peers, notably because of unproven "abilities" or "traits" that, in reality, are byproducts of being children.

In designating children as "indigo", parents willingly and blindly believe that their child is special not only to them, but to the entire world, and thus deserving of myriad rewards by society as a whole. In other words, it creates a sense of entitlement.

Let's take the original list, for instance. There are at least five instances of entitlement in that list alone, not the least of which are "knowing they are special and should be revered" and "they will let you know" that "the fulfillment of their personal needs is important to them". Most of these traits are exhibited in children as young as my own, and he's not even two yet. By their very nature, children are entitled little demons people.

The bad thing isn't noticing these traits, but treating them as something that sets them apart from their peers, something to be encouraged. It creates a generation of, to be quite frank, incredibly bratty children and permissive parents.

Indigo children and "yes-parenting", I've noticed, tend to go hand-in-hand. You know those types of parents: They say their children are expressing themselves through scissors if they cut through your laptop charger, that they're precocious and curious about things if they rifle through and destroy the contents of your purse, that they're outgoing if they jump all over your furniture and torture the dog. There's no discipline, no rules, and most of all... no criticism or repercussions of their special snowflake's actions.

Matt and I are quintessential "no" parents (him more so than me, I'll admit). Saying "no" to children isn't a bad thing; rather, it teaches children important lessons such as how to deal with disappointment, time management, work-play balance, and the art of the argument. You can ask my parents how well the last one in particular went over in their experience!

Saying "no" is especially appropriate for younger children, notably because they have no sense of self-discipline and need it from outside sources... the parents! Discipline has be relabeled instead as "Positive Guidance" to deter parents away from the negative connotation that "discipline" brings with it, but the idea is the same: To guide a child with gentle discipline, acknowledging the child's feelings, and letting them know that "no" is not a four-letter word.

Your children may be special to you, but on the whole, your children are not special to the world. Treating them as such does a great disservice both to them and to society, who has to then deal with grown adults who are incapable of and unwilling to self-discipline themselves, instead seeing the world as their oyster and how dare anyone get in their ways.

...

On another note, having to do with misplaced labeling of children: It concerns me that parents are willing to tack on the title of "indigo child" to children who may in fact have a disorder such as ADD/ADHD, autism, or even narcissism, and who let them go without treatment appropriate to that disorder. I understand that these other labels are medical and scary and, on a New Age level, negative... I get that. It's far more appealing to call them a more positive-sounding "indigo child" and just let them be.

But doing this delays or even prevents proper diagnosis and treatment, and is to their detriment.

(And don't even get me started on Jenny McCarthy's involvement, what with her "crystal child" and her being an "indigo mom" and other such malarkey.)

So please, talk to your doctor if your child appears to have signs or symptoms that point to such a disorder or with any other concerns. You may be doing your child a great disservice refusing treatments that may help him or her lead a normal life.

Eight reasons why my dentist probably hates me, too. (Also, I'm going to the dentist Monday... yay?)

Be proud of me, y'all. Yesterday, all on my own, I made a dentist appointment for myself.

I understand that this typically isn't the type of news that should get people on their feet and applauding, but like most people, I just really hate the dentist. Not the guy himself, as he's cooler than cool (ice cold!), but just the idea of sitting in that chair, mouth gaping open, and almost 30 years' worth of piss-poor dental hygiene staring this tooth and gum expert in the face.

And I'll have to face, yet again, the prospect of getting my wisdom teeth removed. As an anxiety-ridden person who has never gone under general anesthesia, has never had surgery in her entire life, and generally hates the idea of being out of control while someone's fucking around with my face, I'm terribly excited! (NOT)

But for all the reasons why I hate the dentist, I'm sure he hates his patients just as much. So in an effort to empathize with the poor dude, I've decided to try putting myself in his shoes while he, instead, sits in the chair...

1. Okay, I just did this, but imagine if the first thing you hear when a client comes in is, "I hate the dentist." Really? Rude! It's a wonder no dentist (in my experience, at least) has ever responded with, "Aw, that's okay. I hate you, too." And yes, I'm guilty of this in person, too. Bad!

2. The lack of hygiene. Yeah, I admit to being a poor brusher most of the time sometimes, but I at least get my once-a-day brushing in. Imagine having to peer into someone's mouth, full of food and plaque and just grossness everywhere. It's enough to make me dry-heave right now, a big reason why I should never be a dentist!

3. I will put off dental procedures forever and ever amen. I'm sure there are worse people out there, but a good example: I've been needing my wisdom teeth out since I was 16, at least. Now I'm thisclose to 30 and experiencing issues with said wisdom teeth, issues that have been going on for no fewer than five years, and I'm just now thinking, "Yeah, might be a good idea to take care of that."

4. I'm such a baby in the chair. I wince, internally cry, clench my fists. Even if it doesn't hurt, I find myself habitually doing these things because... well, see #1. I imagine this makes it more difficult for him, too, as he's now working super gently around all my teeth and constantly worried that he'll hurt me. I should be more straightforward, something I'm sure would be much appreciated.

5. I'm always afraid of bad breath (on my part -- dude wears a mask and, because he's a dentist, probably has breath that smells like spearmint and unicorn farts). Fortunately, he never tells me, but I try not to breathe in his face... which, when you're that close to someone's face, is inevitable.

6. Periodontal disease. And taking care of it. Just... yeah.

7. He knows his stuff, and he tries to impart his knowledge on his patients, me included. But instead of actually taking that advice to heart (see #6), I feel like a child, being scolded for the admonition, "You really should be doing better." But you know what? He's right, I should!

8. Finally, he's not there to scare me, and he probably hates that people are afraid of him. (Awesome Attorney Boss likely feels the same way, as who wants to talk to a lawyer about just about anything!) But like anyone in a position of hatred, he's there to do a job and to do it well. So maybe, instead of focusing on the drill or the smells or the needles or the bill, I should focus on the fact that he's doing the best damn job he can.

Wish me luck at my appointment. And wish him the same. ;)