*Jazz Hands* Mom

I’m ready for the flack and anger I’ll probably get from this post. But it’s something that I need to say.

The world is watching from afar what happened with the massage parlor killing spree this week. Some of us are watching it from up close.

There is no excuse for what happened. None. Those people did not deserve to die and there should be punishment for the horrible loss of life.

But maybe…just maybe…it’s not only the killer who needs the punishment.

Maybe society deserves a little of the punishment.

Everyone is very quick to declare that this was an act of racism. It’s so easy to go there. It truly happens all the time. It is abominable and needs to stop. Quite honestly, it needs to stop on all levels, though. Our society didn’t see the loss of human life…they IMMEDIATELY saw the race of the lives that were lost. They IMMEDIATELY decided race was the issue. So much so that they ignored what the man, himself, said.

Again…I’m watching this from nearby. I do not know the man, but I do know a little about the story.

From what I understand, he truly was sick. He truly sought help. He truly…was ignored. Does that excuse his actions? Nope. Not even a little bit. But it also puts the blame on us as a society.

Mental health is constantly ignored. We all cry for mental health awareness, but we simultaneously ignore those who need it. We blame anxiety on being dramatic. We avoid those who are depressed as their sadness makes us feel uncomfortable and useless. We blame addicts for their addictions and we judge those who are different from us. We’re the first to cry out after they have taken a life, even their own…but we are the last to sit with them at their sick beds.

I say this as I have been consistently thinking about something my own therapist told me one day in regards to my mother. While it’s not safe for me to be near her, I need to try not to let anger take me over…because she is sick. Expecting someone with her level of mental illness to NOT do sick things is akin to expecting someone with cancer to not be sick.

Now, my mother doesn’t want help. But many people who fight the battle of mental illness do. And we ignore them. We judge them. Society fails them.

And then we’re angry when then sick person does sick things.

Again, I’m horrified by what happens and the killer DOES need to be punished. There is no excuse for the taking of human lives.

But there is also no excuse for ignoring the cries for help that generally lead up to it.

And, quite honestly, there is no excuse for turning every battle into one of racism. Asian Americans HAVE been targeted, especially in the past year, with hate crimes and racism. IT NEEDS TO STOP. But this was not that and actually detracts from that battle. Insisting that something was racially motivated, despite evidence to the contrary, detracts from the fight against racism and is used to take the blame off of society’s shoulders.

We need to start listening for those cries for help. We need to deal with our own discomfort and prejudices and fear…and we need to hold ourselves responsible for helping our fellow man…BEFORE lives are lost.

I’m a helper. I have been for as long as I can remember…I’d be shocked to hear that there was even a time before my memory when I wasn’t.

I Love To Help.

You’re in pain? I bet I can find a way to help. You’re in trouble? I can help. You need advice? I’m your girl.

I, personally, believe that God put us here so that we CAN help each of his children. He gives us gifts that enable us to help others. He puts us in situations that will give us the ability to help. He lets us face tribulations so that we can help those who face them after us.

So, not only do I love to help…I believe that I’m SUPPOSED to help.

(Bare with me on this next part, I swear there’s a purpose. I’ve even centered and italicized it so that you can see where, what looks like it’ll be all whining all the time, begins and ends. lol)

But…if I’m being very, very honest…I sometimes start to feel hurt when it becomes one sided. I start to feel overburdened by helping too many and I start to notice the help that I’m not receiving in return.

I tend to feel that way a lot during tax season. Being exhausted doesn’t help, I’m sure. But the biggest part of it…I honestly really do love that I have a skill that I can use to help others. If I’ve ever offered to do your taxes for free, it’s an act of love. Both love of you AND love of what I do. But that offer goes to those who are a huge part of my life and are there for me in the same ways…or to those who I know really need the help for one reason or another. Yet, right around February…like clockwork…people I only hear from at that time of year are coming to me and remembering how MUCH they love me and how much they miss me and, “By the way…can you help me with some tax stuff?”. And it’s expected for free. (In all seriousness, please note…this is NOT about my friends who have asked if they can pay me or those I offer to do for free.) In a time of year where I’m already extremely busy and stressed…honestly, I get to add to it that I’m only good to those people for one thing. This year that was exacerbated. I have a core group of people who have been there every step of the way for/with me with the broken leg and the process of finding out what was going on with my heart. Those are my people. Those are my ride or dies. And then…I have the rest of the world…I’m not (nor should I be) a priority for them…and so I didn’t even hear from them in the time that I was trying to straighten all of this out and deal with that fear. But, man they remembered me come tax time. And THAT hurt.

And that’s where I’ve been for the past couple of days. Really, genuinely hurting…more and more with every “Hey!! You want to do my taxes?! What do you mean you’d have to charge? Ohhhh…” Feeling like I should help, because I can. Feeling like it’s my duty. Feeling like…it’s my burden.

I don’t believe God wants me (or any of us) to feel that way. Helping each other is supposed to feel like a joy to serve. It is not supposed to feel like a burden.

So then I feel guilty. God doesn’t want me to do his work with resentment and sadness. He doesn’t want me doing it begrudgingly. I must be a terrible person for having these feelings? Right? RIGHT?!?! TELL ME I’M AWFUL!!!

So, yes, that hole has been getting deeper and deeper as I pulled away more and more from, honestly, the last people I should be pushing away…because I’m useless to everyone, right?

No.

And, I THINK God tried to give me that message this morning.

I was sitting at Goldberg’s working…when suddenly…in stereo…20 phones started going off…all around me…with an Amber Alert. Even my phone because I got a new phone yesterday and hadn’t turned off those alerts yet. (For those who are new to this story…I have PTSD from being parentally abducted for 10 years as a baby…I have VERY strong reactions to Amber Alerts and I was advised by a doctor to turn them off. So, my amazing friends promised to leave theirs on so that I would feel less guilty for not having mine on.)

After I started to bring myself down from fight or flight mode, I reached for my phone to turn off the alerts.

And I sat there for a solid 20 minutes trying to force myself to do it.

Because it is my duty to help these kids. I, more than most, know the hell that these children are about to face…no matter who took them and no matter how long they are gone…this will shape the rest of their lives. I know this because I’ve been them…and, over the years, I’ve learned how to help. And how DARE I turn off an alert?

And then I had this feeling come over me…that feeling that I always get when He is trying to make me understand something. I had this feeling of peace saying,

“It’s ok. You can’t help them if you’re hurting yourself.”

If I am so surrounded by my own grief and pain, I can’t help them. If I’m still too lost, how do I help someone else find themselves? If I’ve pushed myself to a point of weakness, how do I help them find their strength again?

And then it clicked. That’s true in all things.

How can I help anyone if I’m hurting myself?

Yes. God wants me to help everyone that I am capable of helping…without hurting myself in the process. God wants me to find a joy…and even a peace in my tribulations…by helping His other children. He wants that for all of us. He never wants it to be a burden.

So He wants us to learn that we have to help ourselves, too.

We have to say no when we have no more capacity. We have to prioritize those who need us the most. We have to step away from things that we KNOW will bring us too much pain to be able to see clearly enough to see who HE is pointing us to…I have to turn off the alerts…

Or, at least, I think that’s what He’s trying to tell me. It feels right. It feels like that parental smack on the back of the head saying, “NOW do you get it?!”

So…Dear God, Is that what you meant? Blink Twice for yes.

This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I’ve been feeling a little…off…today, anyway, but I’ve been kinda freaked out since this afternoon.

I went back to school 3 years ago. I decided I needed to find myself again…and a good way to do that would be to go back to “Academic Sheri”. Academic Sheri knows she’s smart…knows she has something to offer…knows she can succeed. Non-Academic Sheri was…well…a hot mess. Not just a hot mess…but…

So…yeah…Heated Mess Me went back to school. And that is what I have spent the majority of my last 3 years doing. And you know what? It worked. Those 3 years gave me time to heal…gave me my confidence back…reminded me that I have worth…

And now, today, I submitted my petition to graduate. In 9 months I will be done. No more homework. No more classes. No more mocking man buns on campuses. Academic Sheri will go back into her box.

And all I can think is…

Crap. Now what?

Is Non-Academic Sheri still a heated mess? I. Don’t. Know. I know she hasn’t gotten any better at peopling. I know she still does every damn thing to the extreme. I know that she’s still going to be the girl who’s been told is “too nice”, has “too many feelings”, can be hurt a little too easily.

But is she stronger now? Will she thrive? Or will Non-Academic Sheri still be Bad Life Choices Sheri?

And even if she isn’t still Bad Life Choices Sheri…WHAT THE HELL IS SHE GOING TO DO WITH ALL OF THAT TIME?!?!

Seriously…will I suddenly learn how to relax? Probably not. Will I learn a new language? Write a book? Climb Mt. Everest? What will I do in those moments when sitting still sounds absolutely awful.

Soooo…I’m freaking. I have 9 months to figure it all out…but at this moment…I repeat…

Crap. Now what?

Captain America: Civil War – Brock Rumlow – aka Crossbones – As Black Widow tries to electrocute him he merely responds with, “I don’t work like that no more”.

I think about this scene and this quote way more often than is probably normal. Partially (*cough* mostly) because I’m a giant nerd, but also because I feel this one at a deep personal level.

I used to be told I was a great partner because I was so “malleable”. (I hate that word.)

But I don’t work like that no more.

I used to be easy to manipulate because I was so afraid of upsetting people.

But I don’t work like that no more.

I used to be so afraid of being wrong that I wasn’t strong enough even when I was right.

I don’t work like that no more.

I used to be so afraid of failure that I wouldn’t take any risks.

I don’t work like that no more.

And…the one where I find myself saying this to myself most often… I used to be so insecure and horrified by the thought of people not liking me that I would betray myself to make them happy and no one knew the real me because I was whatever they wanted me to be.

This one…I have to remind myself occasionally…especially in the moments when I know that someone has decided they don’t like me, but…I’m actually proud to say…

Just call me Crossbones

Because I don’t work like that no more.

Oof.

I was just going through my old Google photos and suddenly I realized that that is the one place that still has pictures of me and the ex that we call Lord Voldemort (because he shall not be named).

Those pictures still hurt.

Have you ever really and truly believed that you were finally given the chance to be with your best friend? That moment when everything is perfect…they love you more than the world…they talk about your future wedding…they plan a future with you and the kids and nothing will ever break you apart…and then they take it all back?

I have.

Have you ever had the small comments meant to make you feel lucky they even stay with you? “I love you…but if you ever get fat again we can still be friends…”, “I know I said we’d get married, but I don’t know…I guess we’ll see…”. “Kinda mean that you caught the bouquet…if those other women have to wait for you to get married first, they’re never getting married.” “I mean…the extra skin from your weight loss isn’t exactly a turn on…but if I ever marry you, maybe I’ll pay to have it removed.” “Of course I love you and want yo be with you forever…why are you questioning that? You’re so insecure.”

Can you tell I have?

Have you ever lived what was once a dream come true and had turned into a nightmare? A nightmare where you KNEW things weren’t right…but you were so broken down that you believed them when they told you you were nuts?

Yup..I have…

Have you woken up one day and these lyrics felt WAY too close to home?

I got out. With zero confidence, zero pride, and a shell of who I had been going in.

And I’m better for it. That relationship and how low it brought me is why I went back to school…it’s why I gave myself time to heal and really get to know who *I* am so I would never lose myself again.

I’m proud of who I’ve become.

I finally believe again that I am worthy of love. I finally got back what I allowed him to take.

But…yeah…BIG oof on those pictures…

I never again want to feel that Forever and Almost Always kind of feeling again.

It’s funny…I was already thinking about writing this blog as I was driving this morning…but then, on that drive, an even more poignant reason to do so occurred.

First, I feel like I should clarify something. I keep explaining my diagnosis of POTS as a heart condition. There are a few reasons for that:

• POTS most affects the body with cardiac related symptoms.
• My diagnosis came about because of those cardiac related symptoms.
• I can’t pronounce what it really is…lol POTS is a form of dysautonomia — a disorder of the autonomic nervous system. This branch of the nervous system regulates functions we don’t consciously control, such as heart rate, blood pressure, sweating and body temperature. (Copy/pasted that shit! 😆)

Pointless to this post, but I felt like I should put that out there since I’ve been writing about it.

ANYWAYS…I honestly think I’ve stayed pretty positive about this. I’ve always been a Silver Linings kind of girl…I believe you can find the positive in just about anything if you try hard enough.

And…if you can find the positive…you WILL survive and thrive through it.

So…I’m struggling with this a lot more than I’ve let on. The medicine that treats the heart issue messes with my asthma and decreases my blood pressure. I’m CONSTANTLY dizzy. And it’s honestly pretty freaking scary when everything suddenly goes black.

BUT…As always, my silver lined heart is focusing on the good…it’s finding the positive…and it’s using those positives to fight.

The silver linings here…well…a diagnosis is a name and a plan. I can fight an enemy with a name and a plan. Plus, it explains symptoms I’ve dealt with for years..and gives me hope of them being treated. And…as much as people like to give me a hard time for working out too much…it’s nice to be able to stick my tongue out at them and tell them it’s my medicine. 👅

But the biggest silver lining is one I would never have expected.

I have PTSD. I came by it honestly and earned it. That’s for sure. You don’t find out on the side of the road at midnight at 10 years old that you were kidnapped and your whole life (even your name) was a lie without some trauma and some new coping mechanisms. But…I always thought my rather severe anxiety in the past 20 years or so was because of my PTSD. Until last week…I had my med check for my anxiety meds. My psychiatrist is AMAZING and HILARIOUS. LOVE HIM!! So, during this appointment he asked what had been going on the past couple of months and I filled him in. His response?

“Oh…wow…I’m going to miss you…”

I laughed, but nervously…and asked if he was trying to tell me I was going to die…

“No. I’m going to miss you because I believe we’re going to find that you don’t have anxiety.”

He laughed. He said I’m actually an appointment he really looks forward to because I’m so interesting. He knows I wish my life was LESS interesting and a little more boring, but I’m still very interesting and funny because of it. He said I DO have PTSD. BUT…

“Heart rate and anxiety are very closely linked. Most people get anxious and their heart rate increases. But you…I think we’re going to find that your erratic heart rate was making your body believe it was anxious. I think that now that your heart rate will be normal…you’re going to find that you’re not anxious anymore.”

Huh…interesting…

I thought about it. Since the first dose of beta blockers, I haven’t felt anxious. I’m not freaking out…I’m not overthinking…I feel ZERO worries of how people are responding and if it means they’re mad at me…I don’t feel a neurotic urge to be seen solely so I won’t disappear. I seriously don’t feel anxious AT ALL for the first time in 20 years.

And…this morning that was truly tested by my biggest trigger…

I passed an Amber Alert on the highway.

I saw it. I caught my breath. I waited for the panic to hit.

But it never did.

I felt the usual sadness. I felt the anxiety of knowing, like others can’t, what that child is feeling and will deal with forever now. I felt the catch in my heart and breath…I felt the anxiety of rememberance…

But I did not feel the need to run and hide.

Do you know what it’s like to spend your life being scared? Do you know what it’s like to live that life knowing that the majority of people can’t understand your fear…and never will…and don’t understand why you can’t just let it go?

I hope you don’t, but it’s Hell.

I still have that. That is still a part of me. Like I said, I earned it. But I realized today that there’s a chance that it will no longer rule my life. There’s a chance that I can live a more peaceful existence.

All because Silver Linings Girl now has a Silver Lined Heart.

First World Runner Problem: I got REAL mad at my Garmin today. Like BIG MAD.

No, it wasn’t broken.

No, the battery didn’t die.

No, it didn’t track my miles wrong.

It was just flat out mean to me.

*stomp foot brattily* *shut up, WordPress, brattily is a word if I say it’s a word*

I have been freaking THRILLED to get back to a normal level of activity. 2.5 months out between a broken leg and a heart condition…

I JUST WANTED TO RUN!!!

But I couldn’t…and I didn’t…because I was a good girl.

But now I’m running short distances again. Testing the waters. Seeing what I can do. Making progress.

Or so I thought!!!

But look at this nice little message Garmin sent me after this morning’s run.

Apparently my run was unproductive. Not because I’m overtraining…but just because my “fitness is decreasing”.

BITCH… I am 42 years old… With a VO2 Max of 44 (which YOU say is that of a 20 year old)…am just getting back to my workouts after a broken leg and a heart condition…and you want to get onto me because my fitness level is decreasing? OF COURSE IT DECREASED!!!!!!! And I’m still way ahead of where I could be at my age.

What the hell do you want me to do?!?!

Yes…I’m ranting at a watch. But, it’s like being mad at your boyfriend that you love and trust in every aspect of your life…because he betrayed you and called you fat.

And for that I say…

/ Runner Rant

So. This is how it ends. With a teenaged girl standing over my body…frantically mashing…

444. 44-2-8-33. 999-666-88.

Over and over and over.

While laughing maniacally and rocking back and forth like a lunatic rocking horse.

Or, you know…that’s how I imagine this playing out when I get home with her new prepaid flip phone tonight. That she will give up her iPhone for until she can stop being…such…a…teenager.

VIVE LA RESISTANCE!!!!

*save me*

You guys…let me tell you about the horribly awkward moment that happened to me yesterday. This random guy…asked me out to dinner…on a county facebook thread…with 1,000 comments…in front of all of those local people…

In case you were wondering, Facebook doesn’t have a good “deer in headlights” gif.

I tried to be polite and kind…But, my response (below) actually kept me thinking last night about how true it really is. Lol

I am my favorite butt of my own jokes. I *constantly* make jokes about my spinsterhood. But let’s be real. No one HAS to be single these days.

Being single is a choice we make.

Every time someone asks us out and we say no. Every time we swipe left for some ridiculous reason because our heart just really isn’t in it. Every time we choose to stay home instead of going somewhere where we might actually meet someone.

It’s a choice. And…I’m good with my choice.

I don’t want to be single forever.

I’m good at relationships. But, with a few exceptions, I’ve been very bad at choosing who to have them with. I’m realizing that the reason I keep saying “no” is because I still don’t trust myself. I don’t trust myself to choose someone who will choose me every day as I choose them every day.

So…I make that choice. I make Bella and work and school and working out and friends…and everything else under the sun…a priority.

Until I learn to trust myself again.

And until then…I will continue making jokes at my own expense (because they’re HIGHLARIOUS!!) and I will be happy.

Because I will always choose happiness. ❤

I’ve heard it said that the hardest part of grief isn’t the beginning. At the beginning of the situation that you grieve you are surrounded with love and well wishes. You are in the forefront of everyone’s minds as they try to help you through. No…the hardest part of grief is when people have to turn their focus back to their own lives. You are left with your pain and grief…and only your own thoughts to keep you company.

It sucks. Without a doubt. But it is part of life. People are inherently self involved. And I don’t mean that in a bad way at all.

I still say the best way I was ever able to explain this theory was in a conversation I had with my dad after 9/11. We lived in NJ and had been witness to the devastation of families and volunteered to help however we could. So, one day I made the same comment that I made above. People are inherently self involved. He was aghast. “That’s so cynical!!” “Not at all…it’s just human nature. Let me put it this way…9/11. HORRIBLE tragedy, correct?” “Yes!!! Thousands of people died!!!” “I know. Now. Imagine I had died in a COMPLETELY UNRELATED car accident on that same day. What would you grieve more? My death or the death of thousands?” “Yours of course. You’re my daughter.” “Exactly…but don’t you think that’s a little self involved? One life being worth more grief than the loss of thousands? But…it’s human nature…we have to be most affected by what is closest to home. It’s how we survive. It doesn’t mean we don’t care. It just means we are surviving.”

Why am I writing about this today? Because we all come to a moment…a moment when we are dealing with a situation that is rocking our worlds…when we suddenly feel alone.

As a friend just told me, “I’m sick of talking about it and I know y’all are sick of hearing about it.” <~~~~~ No. I’m not. Ever.

The thing is this…maybe we stop asking if someone is ok everyday…maybe we don’t have the time to drop by unannounced and annoy the hell out of someone just to remind them they’re not alone…maybe we have to take care of other things…

But in those moments when we feel that others must be sick of our grief…I bet any one of those people would stop what they were doing in that moment to be there if we just reached out.

In the beginning…those people who won’t let you be alone…in the end will be the people who will still be there when you’re ready to talk.

And those people never ever EVER get sick of being there for those they love.

I write this to remind myself. I write this to remind my friend. I write this to remind every person who’s life has ever touched mine.

You are never alone.

<insert creepy stalker music here>