New Year's Resolutions

"The new year stands before us, like a chapter in a book, waiting to be written. We can help write that story by setting goals. Dig within, and discover what you would like to have happen in your life this year. This helps you do your part. It is an affirmation that you're interested in fully living life in the year to come.” ~Melody Beattie

So, I don’t usually make New Year’s Resolutions—or at least not since I was a kid—so this should be an interesting experiment. Because these thoughts will be written down and posted online, I will be able to revisit them throughout the year as needed. No excuses, right? OK, well here goes.

This year, I intend to take inspiration from others to improve my life, myself, and the way that I impact others.

“If you asked me for my New Year Resolution, it would be to find out who I am.” ~Cyril Cusack

I’d like to believe that I know who I am, and in many ways, I do. But, I learned last year that there are parts of myself that I have not always acknowledged and dealt with well. This year, I will be more open to examining these shadow aspects of myself. I will appreciate them for the gifts that they bring to me, and I will challenge them when they interfere with my progress.

“Take a leap of faith and begin this wondrous new year by believing. Believe in yourself. And believe that there is a loving Source - a Sower of Dreams - just waiting to be asked to help you make your dreams come true.” ~Sarah Ban Breathnach

Doubt has kept me from achieving my goals and dreams in the past. I didn’t stop dreaming, but for too long I could only wish for my dreams to come true. Now, I realize that dreams can be achieved if I work hard enough and believe in myself enough to make them happen. This year, I will believe in myself first. I will remember my dreams, and I will believe that I can realize my dreams.

“Ring out the false, ring in the true.” ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

My gift to myself for my 30^th birthday was my first planned tattoo. (The first was quite unplanned.) It was the year 2000 and Japanese kanji was still popular in tattoos—as were lower back tattoos, later to be known as “tramp stamps.” So, I designed a tattoo that would go on my lower back. It was a starburst design with a kanji in the center. I had designed it with the symbol for love in the center. I had just gone through a divorce, and I was more sure than ever that love existed, especially love for yourself. Fast forward to a tattoo studio in East Ridge, TN, where I am presenting a tattoo artist with my design and just before he creates the stencil, I decide to switch out the kanji symbol for love for the symbol for truth.

 

“Love will come and go, but truth is the one constant,” I said with the kind of arrogance that every 30-year old has. I was sure that I had all the answers, of course. Ha!

So, while my tattoo is no longer in fashion, its message still holds valuable meaning for me. Truth is important to me and always has been. It was truth that led me to leave my first marriage after only months. I could no longer be untrue to who I was, and I believed that love should always be based in truth. I knew then that I deserved to be loved by someone for who I really was rather than on some version of myself that someone else wanted me to be.

This year, I will continue to strive to be truthful always. I will look for the truth in all matters, and I will be true to myself above all else.

“I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something.” ~Neil Gaiman

I have a strong tendency towards perfectionism and a huge fear of failure. I’m sure that both have kept me from trying a lot of things. They’ve also probably limited me from expressing my full potential for creativity and imagination. I know that it would be ridiculous for me to resolve to eliminate my perfectionistic thinking. It will always be a part of me, and I appreciate that it pushes me to do my best. What I will do instead is to strive to see my mistakes as opportunities. I will think less about the outcome or the evaluation, and I will focus more on the experience of learning, feeling, and enjoying the moments. I will open myself up to my own imagination and creativity without concern for the finished product.

“My New Year's resolution is to stick to a good workout plan that will keep me healthy and happy.” ~James Lafferty

I grew up as a skinny kid, but I’ve struggled with my weight for almost 15 years since it was discovered that I had a tiny tumor on my pituitary gland that really screws with my hormones. I’ve been up and down, but mostly up, and I’m currently heavier than I’ve ever been. I refuse to set a weight loss goal, because those don’t tend to work for me—or rather, I’m not good at those. Instead, I resolve to make regular exercise a part of my routine once again. I know that I feel better when I exercise and eat well. I want to be healthier. I want to be able to walk and climb and dance without losing my breath. I want to feel better inside my own skin.

“We humans have lost the wisdom of genuinely resting and relaxing. We worry too much. We don't allow our bodies to heal, and we don't allow our minds and hearts to heal.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

I used to struggle with falling asleep. I would lie in bed, my mind racing, worrying about what I needed to do the next day, obsessing over things I could not control, and stressing out over anything and everything. I was a textbook insomniac. I struggled with waking in the morning, and I would sometimes stay in bed for hours.

I don’t have these problems with sleeping on a regular basis anymore. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s necessity. In any case, I sleep ok, but I don’t experience true restful relaxation each night. I still worry too much. I still don’t always dream. I still don’t often reach that state of healing peace and tranquility. I still don’t wake refreshed each morning. This year, I’m going to work on this. What an amazing goal!

 

“Celebrate what you want to see more of.” ~Tom Peters

I should know well enough from training dogs that in order to eliminate the negative, you must accentuate the positive. I’ve got an advanced degree in complaining. This year, it’s time for me to work on improving my skills in the areas of complimenting, appreciating, praising, and celebrating.

“Look at situations from all angles, and you will become more open.” ~Dalai Lama

 

I often have a hard time connecting with others who seem so very different from me. I know that I could learn to appreciate them more if I could somehow understand their motives, what makes them tick, and what they care most about. I know this. But doing these this is hard—really hard sometimes. This year, I’m going to try harder to understand the perspectives of others. I’m going to try harder to open my eyes, my ears, and my heart.

“Accept what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.” ~Wally Lamb

I say “no” a lot. I turn down invitations, gifts, gestures, and relationships. Maybe my life would be improved if I said “yes” more. Maybe it wouldn’t. This year, I hope to find out.

“Always do what you are afraid to do.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

My third skydive (2008) & the first one I truly enjoyed.

I’m afraid of heights. That’s why I jumped out of an airplane in 2005, and that’s why I’ve done it four more times since. I’m still scared of heights, but I can always say that I’ve faced my fears. Even if I couldn’t conquer my fears, I have faced them. How many people can say that?

The good news is that I have many, many more fears, so I have lots of opportunities in this new year to keep facing them. When given a choice, I will choose to take risks. I will do what I fear.

“Your success and happiness lies in you. Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties.” ~Helen Keller

I’ve learned through my education and my practicum that one of the best ways to treat depression is to increase a person’s pleasant events. Don’t wait for your mood to change to take action; take action and your mood will change. This doesn’t mean that it’s easy to just “choose” to be happy, but it does mean that it’s often possible to choose a better mood. This year, I will choose happiness more often.

“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

We often live our lives waiting for “someday.” Someday, I’ll be thinner. Someday, I’ll be older. Someday, I’ll be happy. Every single day can be someday—or at least a bit of it. This year, I’d like to be more present, more awareness, in every moment. I will make the most of each day, not in a stressed out, frenetic way, but with the appreciation that it will only come once and that once it passes, I will never again experience it.

“Calm mind brings inner strength and self-confidence, so that's very important for good health.” ~Dalai Lama

Meditation has brought me inner calm and sense of balance. It grounds me and empowers me. It allows me to simultaneously feel fully whole within myself and connected to all of the universe. This year, I resolve to meditate more often. I will do my best to create a daily practice by which I connect, center, and focus.

“Let our New Year's resolution be this: we will be there for one another as fellow members of humanity, in the finest sense of the word.” ~Goran Persson

In my fantasy world, I’d be the hermit—alone in my cave, high in the clouds, away from the troublesome world below. Alas, I live amongst the mortals, and thus, I must learn to deal with them. Actually, if this past year has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t do this alone. I depended so much on my fellow students and my professors during my practicum semester. I may have literally gone nuts without them. And, my happiest moments have come when I’m with those whom I consider family or friends. Whether I’d like to admit it or not, I need people, and I do my best to be a friend to those who need one. This year, I will spend more time with friends. I will call those who are far away. I will help more often. I will volunteer more. I will donate what I can.

“To have the kind of year you want to have, something has to happen that you can't explain why it happened. Something has to happen that you can't coach.” ~Bobby Bowden

And, in the end, no matter how much we plan, no matter how many goals we set, the magic of life is that we are never truly in control. This year, I will make more space for that magic by relinquishing more control. I will leave room for miracles. I will allow time for wonder. 

The sunrise outside my front door on the morning of January 1, 2015.

Rescuing Roscoe

"In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesn't merely try to train him to be semi human. The point of it is to open oneself to the possibility of becoming partly a dog." ~Edward Hoagland

It was a normal Tuesday, so I was home until mid-afternoon when I went to class. The dogs had already alerted to a dog running loose past the house. In the last two years living on this somewhat busy road in an unincorporated section of a large and mostly rural Louisiana parish, I had become used to seeing dogs running loose past the house on a regular basis, but it still bothered me greatly and I always tried calling the dog to see if it was wearing tags. The first dog was traveling by quickly and had no interest in coming to me, yet when the dogs informed me of another wayward pooch, I went outside again. This time, I was surprised to see two dogs—a scruffy black terrier and a tiny white poodle. They were both dirty and wet and moving at a clip down the road. I whistled anyway, and the terrier came running to me. The poodle, however, turned up his nose indignantly and ran off back in the direction from which they had come.

I had no idea what trials would be brought upon me for calling that little terrier to me. There was a blood-drawing fight over a ball with Iko, the found owner who told me to “just let her go” and wouldn’t return my calls to claim her dog, the threats followed by thanks,  a mysterious and jarring incident in which someone entered our home and released all of the dogs from their crates and left the front door open, a police report, an almost adoption, and then Roscoe. That terrier was Toto and just when she had learned to live with my dogs in peace and harmony, I was asked to take in a different foster dog, one who “needed me more.” Roscoe, it seemed, had already been in a couple of different homes, and he was having behavioral issues. The theory was that he needed to be somewhere where he could run and play and expend the energy that a young Lab mix naturally has while also learning structure and manners. No problem. As an experienced fosterer of Labs, that was what I did.

 

He came home and destroyed dog toys, jumped on the beds, and chased the cats. All totally normal, so far. But, soon, we started to notice things that weren’t normal. There were behaviors we’d never encountered. He was extremely protective of his neck and would grab your hand with his mouth if you attempted to grab his collar. He was rough with his mouth and paws and quick to use both. I spent the first month nursing my scratched and bruised wrists and forearms. He frequently had an “absent” and distant look and didn’t connect with us or the other dogs. He didn’t know how to play and would growl and snap at the other dogs when they did. After a particularly vicious fight that resulted in a deep wound on Iko’s thigh, my dogs started avoiding him.

He seldom seemed to be living in the present moment like most dogs, overly concerned with what he could hear but not see, or with what he could see but not reach. He noticed everything—the moon, the trails of planes in the sky, a siren miles away, the closing of car doors at the neighboring houses, children laughing somewhere in the distance—and much of it upset him. He was highly sensitive to sounds especially. The 4^th of July fireworks turned him into an unresponsive, erratic mess, running from corner to corner of the yard, angrily barking at the sky. He wouldn’t come when called, and, one night, after reacting to something that only he could see, hear or smell, he jumped our fence right in front of me.

We did what we normally do. We soon realized that his collar sensitivity was most likely the result of tenderness of his neck. He had been wearing a tight prong collar when he came to us, and, based on the look of his neck, it had been used on him more than it should have been. Using treats and repetition, I soon got him to accept having his collar touched. We used caution in the yard and put him on a long lead whenever he got that “lost” look in his eyes. We walked him regularly and used treats to reinforce good behaviors. We maintained a calm and confident energy around him and minimized his stress as much as possible.

We saw improvement, but we didn’t see internalized change. As Mitchell put it, he had simply adapted to living with us. He no longer chased the cats, and he had learned that beds were off limits (mostly), but he still seemed distant and disconnected. And, while those at Petsmart, where he attended adoption events weekly, said that they noticed good changes, he never had a full day without some sort of freak out event. For every two steps forward, there was at least one step back. And, then we had a huge leap backward! In just one day at Petsmart, he lunged and snapped at two different dogs—one while coming in and one while leaving. Later that night, he turned quickly and snapped at me, catching the side of my hand with a tooth. It was scary, painful, and very, very sad. I struggled with trusting him again. I was afraid of what I knew he was physically capable of. I didn’t know if I could come back from it.

But then Mitchell, who is notoriously both more relaxed and optimistic than I am, said the simplest thing. “He just had a bad day.” I started viewing each day as a new opportunity. I was no longer obsessed with the overall picture, but instead I focused on making each day the best that that day could be. I realized that if Roscoe wasn’t able to live in the moment, I needed to do it for him. Maybe he could learn from me. Maybe not. But, at least he would no longer be judged by what he had done in the past. I would model for him the freedom that comes with being present in the here and now, worrying only about what is in front of you at any moment.

 

We did our best to address each issue he had with as much understanding as possible. Every intervention was deliberate and directional. When we noticed that he was sucking on his tail at night, we allowed him to sleep outside of the crate and saw improvement. Then he started chewing raw spots on his tail when we left the house. It wasn’t the typical separation anxiety. We tried bitter agents on his tail, an Elizabethan collar (you know, the cone!), a dog pheromone diffuser, a calming collar, and ultimately Xanax. We gave him his favorite toys and a Kong filled with peanut butter and frozen. Still he got to his tail and chewed it up. We even found him putting himself into his crate just to chew on his tail. It was so frustrating, but finally, on a whim, I left music playing one day and came home to find his tail dry.

So, next, we set about creating a new, positive association for the crate. He was doing better at home, but we hoped to have him do well in a crate at adoption events. After a week off, we decided to bring him back to Petsmart and to leave him while we went to lunch, then to return for him. We brought treats along (as always) and asked that the volunteers there approach him every 10 minutes or so, ask him to sit, and give him a treat. We wanted him not only to see the crate as a place where good things happen, but also to see that other people were a source for positive rewards and that Petsmart, while loud and scary, could also be good. Unfortunately, our training attempt didn’t go as planned, and we got a call just minutes after ordering an appetizer and drinks. Roscoe had “bitten” a child, and he needed to be picked up.

 

It turns out that he didn’t actually bite the child and that the child had been beating on the crate before sticking his hand inside, but it was still a devastating blow. Roscoe could no longer return to adoption events at Petsmart. His association with the crate had been made even worse. He had been stressed past a point for which he had coping skills. He probably felt scared, confused, and desperate. Or maybe that was just how I was feeling. At this point, it had become difficult to separate my own emotions from Roscoe’s. I had tried so hard for so long to get inside his head to understand him that I could no longer tell if my thoughts were my own, and I definitely felt that he could read my thoughts. I was worried that if we couldn’t “fix” Roscoe that there would be no options left for him. I was angry that people had failed him. I was sad that he was broken. I was devastated that I couldn’t help.

I struggled for a solution. I don’t like not having answers. In fact, I don’t like not being right. I have to be right. I’m not used to failure, and I don’t tolerate it well. Yet, here I was, failing this dog. My heart and my mind were committed to him, but I lacked any hope of being successful on his behalf, and it crushed me. That’s when I did something crazy. I contacted an animal communicator.

The jury is still out on the reading that I got from the communicator, but I have felt better since contacting her. She advised me to trust my intuition, which gave me the freedom and the confidence to stop taking Roscoe to a group training class that I felt was causing more anxiety than helping. She affirmed my gut feeling that Roscoe was afraid of being abandoned and that he needed to feel love. Mostly, I think that it felt good to talk about how I had been feeling, to feel less alone.

I don’t know where things will go with Roscoe and I, and I still have huge concerns about how he will deal with the change of me returning to a full-time (plus) schedule at the end of August when the fall semester and my practicum begin. I don’t know if he will be ok being crated for so long every day. I don’t know if he will behave for my petsitter. I don’t know if he will ever learn to play with the other dogs.

But what I do know is this…growth and healing are not linear; patience is difficult to practice, but results in great rewards; finding understanding may be more important than finding answers; and love is, well, you know, love is all you need.

Roscoe is available for adoption through the Animal Protection and Welfare Society (APAWS) in Baton Rouge, LA. See his Petfinder profile here.

my birthday wish

NOT my birthday cake!

I turned 40 almost 365 days ago.  It was 358 days ago, in fact.  And, while in some ways much has happened this year, most of the past year was dedicated to one thing...one still unaccomplished, unresolved, ever-stressful, increasingly painful thing....selling my house.  It was just a week before that 40th birthday when we were given the news that we would be transferred.  And it was on that 40th birthday that, with paint-flecked hands, I ate takeout Chinese and allowed myself to dream about the new life we would soon be embarking upon....the new house, the new job, the graduate school possibilities, the new friends and renewed friendships, the new adventures, and the new me.

So, now, as 41 quickly approaches, I can't help but lament the last year lost.  I am nowhere near as hopeful as I was a year ago.  Already facing a loss of around $50,000 on our house, I can't see how we can afford to sell it in this market.  I'm worried about finding a new job.  I don't know how we will afford the graduate school program.  I'm no longer confident about finding our dream home and being approved for a mortgage now that we likely will be coming without the down payment we had counted on.  I even begin to question my ability to settle into a new place again and to make new friendships.  I've actually been in Connecticut now for slightly longer than I was in Chattanooga, yet I don't feel like I've developed friendships here that come anywhere close to the friendships I have from my time in Tennessee.

Like New Year's resolutions, though, we get a new birthday wish every year.  I'm making mine early.  I think I'll make it every day until it comes true.  (I'm nothing if not persistent!)  I'll wish, and I'll hope.  I'll even once again start dreaming of all of the new things to come....both internally and externally.  And, they will come.  I am sure of this.  I must be.  There is no other option. 

They may not come packaged in the way that I once expected, but they will still be the gifts that I most need.  Even if I don't find the job of my dreams right away, I will find something that teaches me and helps me to develop new skills.  Or I will have the opportunity to work for myself.  Even if I can't afford school right away, I will research grants and loans and take advantage of the extra time to put money away in savings.  Even if we can't afford the dream home, we can still find a great home where we can make our dreams manifest through our own hard work and at our own pace.  And, even if I don't make new friends right away, I will still be within driving distance of my sister and many of my dearest friends for the first time.  I can't wait to be able to see these friends more regularly.

The most exciting prospect still remains the chance to reinvent myself in a way, to become the next incarnation of myself.  No delay in time will prevent that from taking place.  There is no expiration date on that opportunity.  With every move I have made, I have gained new perspective, new insights, and new inspiration on the world outside my front door and on the world under my own skin.  Within my changed environment, I am able to experience a metamorphosis of my psyche.  This is the event I look forward to most.  Having to wait for this, my gratification delayed, is the probably what bothers me most about this past year. 



Perhaps I wasn't ready yet?  Maybe there was something I needed from this year that will benefit me in the next?  Of course, identifying it may be difficult, but who says that I have to?  I'm sure that I'm learning patience.  I know that I've learned to appreciate abundance.  I've also experienced gratitude for the support that I do have in friends here.  I've also realized how important it is to listen to my gut and to stand up for myself.  I've gone out of my comfort zone in many ways, and I've actually been impressed with my ability to adapt and to persevere.  I didn't always have the skills that I've seen myself using.  I will be better prepared for my next step because of them.



Helping Nanny blow out her birthday candles.



So, here I go.  From now until it comes true, I will be closing my eyes, making my wish, and blowing out the candles. 

all things wise and wonderful

"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." -E.M. Forster

This morning, on my way to my personal growth group, I found myself driving behind a large animal veterinarian. It felt like an out-of-body experience of sorts where the present me was peeking in on the once-possible me. I imagined where the vet was heading and what kind of patient he was going to see. Was it a routine visit or an emergency call? Since I was driving through the horse country of Granby, CT, I eventually settled on the idea that the vet was going to check in on a foal who was born in the last few weeks. An inexplicable twinge of jealously came over me as I imagined the foal kicking up her heels and playing chase with another late Spring foal.

I can't remember ever wanting to be anything other than a veterinarian when I was a kid. I read every James Herriot book I could get my hands on and watched the BBC's "All Creatures Great and Small" whenever I could find it on PBS. I started researching vet schools and planned out my undergraduate studies before I even started high school. Every class I took from 8th grade on was a purposeful part of a bigger picture. I started working with the horses and ponies at the zoo every summer at the age of 12. I shadowed a vet on weekends during my senior year. I knew exactly what I wanted and how I was going to get it.

I won't get into how, when or why my plan eroded (at least not now), but I can say with certainty that I not only accept the course that my life followed, but that I am grateful for its twists and turns. I am so passionate about the work that I do with and for victims that I couldn't imagine doing anything else. The friends that I've made through my own healing process and my work as a survivor are some of the dearest people in my life. They've impacted me in ways they will probably never know, and I feel a comfort and an intimacy with them that's organic. I am more confident in my abilities and my talents than I have ever been, and I look forward to the challenges of proving them to new people in yet another state.

I was almost at the Massachusetts state line when I saw the flashing yellow lights of the intersection where I would turn off. I slowed, a little sad that the truck in front of me was continuing on straight ahead and that I would never know where the vet was going or who he was going to see. But, as quickly as the sadness had come, it left and was replaced with a deep contentment. I knew that I was where I belonged, doing what I was meant to do. I knew that I was following the right path. I knew that it didn't matter where the vet was going without me. I had adventures and challenges of my own to meet. I took a right turn and went forward in my day. My life was waiting for me.

dying to live

“How does one become a butterfly?” she asked pensively.

“You must want to fly so much you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.”

“You mean die?”

“Yes and no,” he answered. “What looks like you will die, but what’s really you will still live”

–from Hope For The Flower

I will jump out of an airplane for the fifth time this Saturday. Just over five years ago, I never would have imagined that I could (or would) ever skydive, much less that I would do it again and again. I have several friends who also take part in Operation Freefall each year. Some of them dedicate their jump to someone or something each time. I've never done this. I've never felt the need. Oddly enough, I've never even taken much time to consider why I am skydiving year after year or what it means to me. I didn't even really enjoy skydiving until my third jump. Reading something that a friend wrote in regards to her upcoming jump, though, I started to wonder about my own.

Why do I skydive? At first, I did it to face one of my biggest and most powerful fears--the fear of heights. Then, it was more about facing fear in general. I was raised by a mother who had (and still has) many fears. In turn, she instilled fear in us kids. I allowed fear to keep me from trying a lot of activities that I may have wanted to try. I was afraid of getting hurt, of looking stupid, of failing, of ridicule, of everything. I made lots of excuses, but the truth was that I was afraid.

With my first skydive, I made a conscious decision to start dealing with my fears directly and honestly. My third skydive reaffirmed this decision. During my second jump, I experienced what is known as a hard parachute opening. I was jerked very hard by the chute and was in a great deal of pain all the way to the ground. In retrospect, I realize how lucky I was not to be hurt more than I was. I took a year off at the advice of my chiropractor, but felt compelled to "get back on the horse" the following year, when I finally had fun jumping. I credit my tandem instructor, Mike Hennesy for being gentle, kind, and funny and myself for asking for what I needed.

Last year, I decided to once again have fun. I vowed to smile all day. I promised not to let fear enter my mind or my heart. I knew what I was doing, this was nothing new, and I wanted to make it the best jump yet. I did. Fear was no longer the target of my attention and my action. To borrow terminology from behavioral psychology, I was switching from an avoidance goal (avoiding fear) to an approach goal (approaching fun). I was amazed at how a simple change could have such a huge impact. After completing my skydive last year, I felt joy--pure, uncomplicated, unfettered joy--for the first time in my life. I felt a happiness that I never knew was possible for me, a person who has suffered from dysthymia for most of my life. When I see pictures and video of myself from that day, I see a lightness in my face, an easing of tension, a genuine peace.

So, again, why do I skydive? Simply said, I skydive to feel alive. Before skydiving, I could easily access painful and negative emotions, but I wasn't able to reach and hold onto the positive ones. Now, I can feel joy and wonder and love and amazement and bliss--and not just when I skydive, but even in the midst of the mundane and in the simple, everyday happenings of life. Sometimes, I feel like a kid experiencing things for the first time. I can laugh at the most inappropriate times, and I can entertain myself for hours with just my thoughts. I can watch my cat chase a bottle cap around the house and think it's the cutest thing in the world or get down on all fours on the floor with my dog and growl and play with her like I'm a dog.

I skydive to experience my strength and my vulnerability at once. To trust someone else with my life requires both bravery and the ability to let go of control. One could argue that it also requires stupidity, but I would say that it's hardly stupid to want to squeeze every bit of living out of your life. I skydive to prove that I am capable of doing something that most other people won't ever try. I skydive to prove to myself that there are people who won't hurt me, who will protect me, and who will support me. I skydive to remind myself that I can let them.

I skydive for me! Though I do it as a fundraiser and an opportunity to raise awareness of sexual violence, it could be one of the most selfish things that I allow myself to do. My skydive has become a time when I take time off from work, I travel to a sunny spot, and I spend a few days with friends from all over the country (and the world). It's a strange sort of girls' weekend, but that's exactly what it is. Of course, we're a strange bunch of girls, so it's quite fitting. I could say that I can't afford to go, that I shouldn't take the time off from work, that my pets need me at home, that I should just skydive closer to home. It's illogical, impractical, and totally unnecessary. But, I want to do it, so I do. Skydiving gives me an excuse to indulge my desires, to forget (even if only for a little while) what I should, ought, and must do.

I skydive so that I can live.

grateful for the path

"I'm grateful that the path I have traveled, however twisted it may have seemed, brought me to where I am: right here, right now."

The above quotation was borrowed from a Facebook status posted by The Attitude of Gratitude Project some time back. I absolutely love the status messages that the page's creator posts. They remind me of the many things that I have to be grateful for, even (and especially) the little, seemingly unimportant things.

As a Reiki Master, I recite the Reiki Gokai, or principles, daily:

Just for today, I will live the attitude of gratitude.
Just for today, I will not worry.
Just for today, I will not anger.
Just for today, I will do my work honestly.
Just for today, I will show love and respect for every living being.

My practice keeps me grounded and in the moment. It allows me to approach each day as a new opportunity to do my best, regardless of the past day's happenings or what lies in the future. It helps me to remember that I can only control what is at hand and that it is, therefore, unproductive to get upset or angry about what I cannot control. And it aids me in my seemingly constant struggle against worry and fear.

Back to gratitude, now. It's not always easy to be grateful, especially for things that are unpleasant, sad, or painful. In my life, though, these are the very things that teach the most poignant lessons, bring the most fulfilling experiences, and supply the contrast needed to feel the positive emotions. Without them, the ups wouldn't be as high, I wouldn't know my true strength, and my friendships would be more shallow. Because of them, I am who I am and I am where I am.

I will be going to Florida at the end of this week for my Operation Freefall skydive and my now annual reunion with as many as my SOAR friends as possible. In preparation for the trip, I've spent hours on the phone and online with several of them, trying to figure out where we will be staying and what we will be doing. These friends are friends who know, accept, and love me in a special way. I feel alive when we are together. We don't speak enough. (Who really does?) I wish we lived closer. I wish we had more time together. I am truly grateful for these friends, and I realize that I wouldn't know them if it weren't for each of our negative past experiences.

It's a strange thing for some people to hear me say that I am grateful for the experience of being a sexual assault survivor. But, I am. The healing process was a difficult one, with many dark and scary times along the way. I didn't always think that I would make it through the darkness to the other side. In fact, I usually didn't. I wasn't even sure that I deserved to. I wallowed for a long time in self-abuse and neglect. I existed from day to day, seeing each not as an opportunity, but as an obstacle. I felt excruciating alone. I had no idea that this very "alone-ness" would someday be replaced by an equally intense feeling of belonging.

Because of what I survived, I now have a career that I am passionate about. I advocate for victims of sexual violence. I am their voice in the treatment and supervision of their offenders. I answer their questions and make sure that their concerns are addressed. I will not allow them to be forgotten, ignored, or dismissed. I understand their feelings and know their struggles. I accept their anger and disappointment without judgment. I believe in their potential and encourage their growth. I learn from them everyday.

Because of what I survived, I have exercised a lot of self-reflection. I have had therapy. I have participated in groups. I have attended healing retreats. I know more about myself and what makes me tick than I ever would have otherwise. I'm more self-aware than the average person and, arguably, more intuitive. I can read other people well, and I have a deep capacity for empathy. My knowledge and skills have helped me in my work and personal life.

Because of what I survived, I have an appreciation for what makes a man a "real" man. I know that "macho" has no value, that the traditionally "feminine" qualities take on a deeply attractive nature when displayed by a man, that love is more about mutual respect than about sexual tension, and that a healthy relationship isn't all that much work. I dated my fair share of "bad boys" and jerks. I tried to be married to a "nice guy." I had given up hope of finding "the one" when I left Ft. Wayne and moved to Chattanooga. Life once again surprised me when that very move brought me exactly what I thought was impossible. He had to patiently wade through the flotsam and jetsam of my past, but he must have seem something that I didn't even know existed. I am inexplicably grateful that he did.

spring awakening

I am certain that people and events come into our lives for a reason, but it never ceases to amaze me when someone manages to say just the thing that I need to hear at the moment that I need to hear it. That happened yesterday. Feedback from some friends on Facebook and a silly Snoopy calendar gave me the insight and the inspiration that I have needed for a while now.

You see, I've been beating myself up a bit lately, because I've been in a depressive state for most of the last three months. I've been sick, sluggish, and stagnant. I've been avoidant, isolating, and reclusive. I haven't been eating right, sleeping well, or exercising regularly. I've just been down on myself in general. It's partially a seasonal thing--both the lack of sun during the winter months and the anniversary of difficult events--and partially my chronic depression rearing its ugly head. I don't know why I get so judgmental about it, but I do. I think that I'm so afraid of it progressing to a clinical point that I treat it with disdain, instead of allowing myself to explore whatever it might be telling me.

Of course, I didn't even consider that there was a message to hear or a lesson to learn until yesterday when I posted on my Facebook page that I was contemplating the difference between daydreaming and dissociation. Both are symptoms of my depression, though true, maladaptive dissociation is less frequent than mere daydreaming. As you can probably tell by my rambling words, I've been having problems focusing and staying present lately. I even dissociated while driving last week and was literally jolted back into reality when I saw a police car quickly make a U-turn as I drove past. (Luckily, he was just exiting the highway, but it certainly scared me!) My lack of focus and occasional incidents of dissociation had bothered me, but I hadn't considered their cause. I had somehow not seen the obvious--that they were connected to and indicative of my depression. They were like a warning signal, an alarm, a red flag.

Many of my friends responded to my question about dissociation with very thoughtful and empathetic responses. (I'm fortunate and grateful to have a lot of friends who understand me and can relate to me on many levels.) One friend in particular pointed out that daydreaming can be simply caused by boredom or fatigue and can be assuaged by either finding a more stimulating activity or by getting some good rest. Dissociation, she pointed out, required a deeper form of relaxation, a more intense period of recovery.

I swear that as I read her words, a light bulb literally went off in my head. I suddenly connected all the dots. I saw my depression, my dissociation, my inactivity, my daydreaming, my isolation as a means to an end. I realized that I had needed that period of time to rebuild, recharge, refocus, and redefine myself. All of the judgment and criticism that I had been bestowing upon myself were gone. I knew that there was something that I could learn from my depression. I felt so much lighter, so much more hopeful. And, at that very moment, I looked at my desk calendar and read the following words:

"If I have inside me the stuff to make a cocoon, maybe the stuff of butterflies is there, too." -Trina Paulus

I can't put into words how stunned I was. I felt as though I had been struck by lightning. Every cell in my body seemed to be teeming with energy. I was humming at a higher vibrational level. I was alive and awake for the first time in months. This was a moment of clarity after a journey through a dark tunnel. It was truly and absolutely amazing.

I had been cocooning myself up since January. I had been drawing back into myself, wrapping myself up in layers, lying dormant. I had done a great job of it. I had eaten junk, put on weight, and conserved plenty of energy. I had done it, and I could get myself through it to emerge as something, and someone, else on the other side. As the quotation pointed out, I had used the tools that I had at my disposal to build my cocoon. From within that cocoon, I could draw out of myself the traits that I would like to see emerge from the darkness. I could choose how I would redefine myself. I could control how I would rebuild myself. I could focus my intention wherever I wanted to. It was all in my hands. I had already made a conscious decision to pull myself out of my inactivity. I had already rededicated myself to eating well, to exercising, and to taking care of myself. These messages were the reinforcement that I needed to know that I was on the right track. They were the voices of encouragement that I would listen to when things got tough. They were the light pointing me toward the end of the tunnel.

So, it's only been two days, but I feel like I have no choice but to do well. I must take advantage of this new found clarity and insight. I have to see the gifts that depression presents to me--the time for recovery, the safety for regrowth, the space for renewal, and the chance for rebirth. Even though it's scary and lonely and dark and cold, my cocoon protects me when I am weak and vulnerable. It shields me from the harshness of the outside world. It holds me in a sacred place, where my soul can grow and change, where I can be stripped down and taken apart before emerging again, where I can take care of myself. Just as the caterpillar needs the cocoon in order to transform into the butterfly (or moth, which is equally as beautiful in my eyes!), I need my seasons of depression to transform myself. They're nothing to be ashamed of or to punish myself over. Depression doesn't mean that I'm weak or dysfunctional. It isn't a character flaw. Depression is a coping mechanism for me. It's a tool, an opportunity, a gift, a prize!

Thank you, real life and Facebook friends. Thank you, Snoopy. Thank you, caterpillars, moths, and butterflies. Thank you, daydreams and dissociative episodes. Thank you, depression. Hell, thank you, anxiety, because I'm sure you're helping me, too! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll see you all when I bust out of this cocoon!