What if?

Do you ever find yourself playing the what if game? What if I won a million dollars? What if I could eat whatever I wanted all day, and still get skinny? What if I didn't go to work today, just stayed in bed? What if I never find someone to love? What if I drive into oncoming traffic? I know, a little extreme. But what if?

I've struggled for a very long time with depression. It hurts physically. When I'm in a low spot, I have a hard time moving: my head starts pounding, my teeth ache, my arthritis pain seems to multiply to the point where every movement is excruciating, my fingers swell, my neck kinks, and so on. Depression hurts emotionally, too: I relive all my worst memories, I imagine all my worst scenarios, the loneliness and emptiness envelop me to the point where the idea of continuing to exist is excruciating.

Luckily for me, I've always had the presence of mind to realize that this is depression. That if I wait long enough, I will feel better. It's never really completely crippled me before. I've never acted on my impulse to drive into a telephone pole, or step in front of a train; I know in my head that those choices are stupid, and would hurt more than help.

Let me make this perfectly clear: I am not suicidal, I do not want to die, I do not want to kill myself. I have just found my mind playing the "what if" game more and more. And what if, one day, I no longer have the presence of mind to say to myself "this is the depression talking, don't give in to it," what if?

About five years ago, I began to experience anxiety as a by-product of the depression. One might think that they would balance each other out, that the high pressure stress of anxiety could easily combat the lows of depression. This is not the case. Anxiety gives me more fear, more worry, and more what ifs. Anxiety feels like fear intensified, but an unknown fear. It's like I'm being chased by something horrible that I can't describe. I don't have any idea what it is, but I know it's bad. My chest tightens, my breath shallows, my pulse quickens, my senses go to high alert - everything is brighter and louder - and the worry consumes my thoughts. "What if," my brain starts wondering, "the people at the place think I'm horrible? What if they call me names, or make fun of me? What if they tell me I'm not good at anything? What if they throw things at me? What if they hurt me?" Although I know that these thoughts are ridiculous, that most people at most places are not like that, the thoughts terrify me.

Until now, I've always been able to combat these thoughts with a simple mental reminder: "this is the anxiety talking, don't give in to it." But last week, the anxiety won. For the first time that I can remember, the anxiety won. I drove to a place that I was supposed to be at, an orchestra rehearsal if you must know, which, by the by, I've always loved doing. I got there to the place and sat in my car. I literally could not make myself get out and go in. I sat arguing with myself for nearly 45 minutes:
"Just go in, it doesn't matter that you're late."
"Yes it will, everyone will hate me for interrupting."
"It won't make a difference, your instrument is needed."
"They have another bass player."
"If you don't go in, the conductor will hate you for backing out."
"They have another bass player, they don't need me, nobody needs me."
"The music makes your heart better, it will help you get over this."
"I can't, I can't, I just can't."
Then I cried, a lot. Then I started over with the conversation. My reasonable self trying to convince my anxiety-ridden self that I should go in and partake of the joy of making music. Anxiety won. Depression took over. I texted a lame excuse about getting lost to the conductor, and drove home, crying all the way. I wanted to be in the orchestra, I wanted to play music, I wanted to belong to a group. But I couldn't. For some reason, I just couldn't. And it was depressing.

Having texted the conductor, I figured that still left me an in if I could get myself to rehearsal again the next week. So, this week, on the day of the rehearsal I got up in the morning, packed up my bass so it would be ready to go when I got home from work, and thought "this is going to be great! I know the music, missing one rehearsal isn't a big deal, I played with them last year, and the conductor liked me enough to invite me back; this is going to be great!" All day long I looked forward to rehearsal. I hummed the music in my head. I practiced the fingerings on my desk. I was excited. As I began driving home from class, however, anxiety struck. My chest tightened, my breath shallowed, my pulse quickened, everything was louder and brighter. I recognized this: a panic attack. I started forcing deep breaths, I turned the radio to the classical station, I prayed. It wasn't until I told myself that I could stay at home that night that my body started to relax. Then I started to cry. I wanted to go, I needed to go, I would go! Then the anxiety happened again. A vicious cycle, the entire thirty-something minute drive home: anxiety and depression fighting  for mastery. Anxiety won, again. I was so panicky and stressed about going, that I couldn't go. So, I didn't go. I e-mailed the conductor, I told her I had some personal stuff going on that would make it impossible for me to participate in the orchestra this year. I asked her to forgive me for backing out of the commitment, and told her I hope she'd invite me again. Then I spent the evening at home, crying and praying, and I went to bed at eight; depression is exhausting.

I've thought about this experience a lot over the last couple of days since it happened. I imagine from the outside it seems that I'm weak. I don't have control over my mind and body. Problems like this are all in my head, right? Why can't I just do what I want to do? Why can't I control my thoughts? Why can't I just talk myself down? The thing is, though, I can't. And it's not for want of trying, either, believe me, I've tried. Anxiety and depression are real problems; only people who suffer with them can know the pain.

Right at this moment, I'm crippled. I can't go to places and do things, because my body thinks that's an excuse to panic, to shut down. This triggers the depression, and makes me uncontrollably sad. Did you get that? Uncontrollably. I can't control it. I want to, I try to, but I can't. I'm getting help. I'm seeing a doctor, I'm taking medication, I'm researching remedies. I will get better, but right now I'm sick, and the things I need most are less judgment and more kindness.

Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Kissed

Partly because I was sick this week, but mostly because I secretly love them, I watched a lot of silly movies over my Christmas vacation. Most of them were holiday themed, because I'm just that cheesy, but some were silly without a theme. One of the movies that I watched was about this 16-year old girl who had never been kissed. Been there, done that. Granted, growing up in Utah, most of my friends could say the same thing. As the movie progressed, however, and the girl became increasingly upset with her friend that was trying to find her someone to kiss, I started thinking about my own romantic escapades, or rather the lack thereof. This year I will turn 36, and the last time I kissed someone I was 20. Sixteen years. Sixteen long and lonely years. It's kind of like being 16 again, 16 and never been kissed.

Most of the time I'm OK with the lonely; I'm kind of a pro at it. I like being able to what I want, when I want, and not have to clean up after anyone else. I don't have to trust anyone else with my happiness, nor try to be responsible for keeping someone else happy. I imagine that lonely works well for selfish people. Unfortunately, I don't think that we're meant to go through life so alone. Yes, it's good to have friends, and my family is terrific, when they're around, but sometimes I want to not come home to nobody. Sometimes I want so badly to be in a relationship that I fantasize about it: I imagine myself meeting Josh Groban, or Ryan Gosling, or some other equally talented and gorgeous man, and they, of course, fall madly in love with me at first sight and convince me that their life was incomplete until the moment they found me. Maybe I watch too many silly movies...

Or, maybe, I've finally reached a point in my life where my heart is ready to start trusting again. After all that I've been through and learned, maybe it's time to let go of the past and look toward the future. So, at the dawn of this new year, I am going to start doing just that. I am going to let go. I am going to let myself fall. I am going to let myself trust. It will be scary. It will be hard. But it will be amazing. I'm not expecting to find someone to share the rest of forever with right away, I need to fix a few more things about me first, but I am expecting to let me be me, and let the chips fall where they may.

From this point forward I do not care what anyone else thinks of me. I am beautiful, and talented, and brilliant, and I will do all in my power to develop those gifts that God has given me. I am going to take care of my body because I am worth the effort required to do it. I am going to sing, and dance, and play every day because I can. I am going to spend less time playing facebook games and spend more time face to face with the people I love. This is it, this is now, this is me: sweet sixteen and never been kissed!

The Speeding Ticket Analogy

I am what most people call an overly-cautious driver. I use my turn signal to enter and exit driveways and parking spaces, I never swerve through traffic, and when it comes to the speed-limit I'm usually about 3 miles under. So, when I received a speeding ticket this week, my first ever by the by, it came as quite a shock. In my defense, I was unfamiliar with the area, and I thought the speed-limit on this particular road was 35 - it was a two-lane road with a stripe down the middle and I didn't notice a limit sign - so my going 38 really wasn't that bad. Imagine my chagrin when the officer told me that he pulled me over for going 38 in a 25 zone! Because it was my first speeding ticket, and I was contrite, the officer gave me a warning, so it's on the police record, but I don't have to go to court, pay a fine, nor does it get reported to my insurance.

I learned something from this experience that surprised me. I got the speeding ticket because I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. I was eating my dinner in the car, and adjusting my music, and I didn't look for a speed-limit sign so it's no wonder I didn't see one (there are actually three that I passed that are in plain sight and any responsible driver would have noticed). I knew the rules, I knew I should have been paying attention, I knew I should have been more cautious. But I wasn't. I allowed myself to become so distracted that I was breaking the law, and I didn't even know I was doing it until I was in trouble.

After I cried a little - you would have cried, too, if your nearly 20 year perfect driving record was just tarnished because of a stupid mistake - I started to think about how my speeding ticket could be a warning for my life, and how I'm living it. I know what things I should, and shouldn't, be doing to be happy. I understand that my choices have consequences. But sometimes, OK a lot of the time, I allow myself to become distracted by things that are appealing or easy instead of being steadfast about following the rules. For example, I know that my life would be better if I got more sleep and ate healthier. But I like watching movies and eating junk-food. Instead of giving myself limits on how many movies I can watch in a week (or a day), and how much junk I can eat, I give in to the distraction. I stay up late watching something, or reading something, and eating a lot of things that aren't good for my body. I don't work out a lot because it's hard and it hurts, I allow my excuses to become their own distractions.

In essence, I am giving up the things I say I want the most for things that I want at the moment. I want to be fit and healthy so I can participate and keep up with my students and friends. I want to become more attractive so that the right kind of guys will want to date me. I want to perform more, but I don't spend any of my free time practicing my instruments, or singing. I need to stop letting distractions keep me from my goals. I need to focus and pay attention and read the signs so that I stay where I should be in order to get what I want, and what I know God wants for me.

I'm so grateful that my Heavenly Father saw fit to send me this reminder for my life. I wasn't paying attention, not just that night, but in my life; I wasn't noticing all the things I could and should be doing differently. I need to get back to focusing on what I want. As a wise person, I think it was my grandmother, once told me: Decide what you want, and then do what you need to do to get what you want. I hope that this reminder will help me to remember to pay attention.

Back to school!

For me, the 2012-2013 school year starts in two weeks, August 27th. To be fair, that's when the students come back. I have been working on "the next school year" since the middle of June. I was reading through some of my blog posts from my well-conceived, but ill-achieved, website, and thought it fitting to repost here (see an earlier post about having separate blogs that I can't/don't keep up with).

So, from Academnation last August:

We've all seen those t-shirts that say "I survived..." and there are several things that people have lived through: hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, hottest days of the year, really bad concerts, etc. I was thinking about the first day of school, and how it sometimes feels like a natural disaster, or a really bad concert, sometimes both. As teachers, we spend practically all summer gearing up for the first day of school. We think about what we're going to teach, how we're going to teach it, the rules and expectations we have. We make mental lists of all the things we're going to "do differently" this year. It's exhausting work.


And then comes the actual first day of school. So far, I've survived seven of them, five in the states. I never sleep well the night before, I'm so nervous that my students won't like me, or that they'll break all the rules on the first day. I even have nightmares about coming unprepared, or undressed, or that my students are actually evil cyborgs sent from the future to kill me. It's truly quite terrifying. After the night of unrest, I guzzle some Dr. Pepper and arrive early to face the day of new possibilities.

The first student comes in 30 minutes before the bell to "see the classroom" and the day begins. I meet 28 new students, and about 10 parents. Then I talk, all day: explaining how things are going to be in the classroom, the rules they should know, the expectations I have, etc. We introduce procedures for lining up, transitioning between subjects, asking a question, etc. All the while, I'm trying to gauge their perception of me. I'm thinking things like: "Will they remember all this tomorrow?" "How many times will I have to repeat this rule?" "That girl is drawing, she isn't even listening, how rude!" and "I wonder if they'll like me as much as they liked their last year's teachers." I also start to notice and make judgment on their academic ability. Some students can't cut straight, or their handwriting is atrocious.

By the end of the day, I'm ready for Summer Vacation all over again. I feel like I've been awake for 72 hours straight, and all I want to do is get a lozenge for my tired, sore throat and go to bed. But I can't! I have to get ready for the next day, and the next, and the next. I don't get another break until Thanksgiving! From now, until then, I will be constantly thinking about my students, what they need, how I can help them, and what I must do, or do differently, to make my classroom better for them.

This job that I love so much is not about "playing with kids all day," it's about teaching. And teaching is hard. Every time I see one of those "I survived" shirts, I just want to yell out: "Oh yeah? Well, I survived the first week of school!"

Stumbling Blocks

From my Spark blog Saturday, February 25, 2012

It seems that every time I start on something new, something that I think will be great for my life, that's when life starts throwing me curveballs. It's as if the Universe is saying to me "How much do you really want this?" I know that good things in life don't always come easy, but does it really have to be this hard?

I usually eat pretty healthy foods, I just eat way too much of them, my biggest challenge seems to be exercise. Each time I've begun an exercise plan, something happens that prevents me from carrying it out, usually an injury. I don't know why I keep getting hurt, and it doesn't happen while I'm exercising.

Five years ago, I had a friend who was a trainer, and she started walking with me, setting up a routine that would challenge me. It was really fun, and I was enjoying myself, and I even lost enough inches to have to buy smaller pants. Then I slipped on the ice at work, and broke my ankle. Turns out you can't walk if you have a broken ankle. By the time my ankle recovered enough to walk for exercise again, my friend had moved away. It wasn't fun walking without her, with her little challenging comments, and her plans (we walked somewhere different every day).

Last summer, I rediscovered the joy of swimming. I was swimming about a mile a day 4 or 5 days a week. I wasn't losing a ton of weight, but I was becoming a lot less flabby, and much stronger. Then I tripped and broke my wrist. Turns out you can't swim with a cast on. By the time my wrist had healed enough to be swimming again, it was winter and cold. I've gone a few times since then, but it's hard in the winter.

I was actually starting to get into a pretty good routine with some workout videos at home, and then a few weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night with an extreme pain in my thigh. This thigh has been mostly numb for about 15 years because of a nerve injury incurred during knee surgery. So when I can feel it, it's incredibly painful. I went to a doctor, and she told me that it was probably blod clots. I'd read about that, and was a little scared. I went to another doctor, a specialist, and had some tests done. It wasn't blod clots - whew! - but it was something serious. I have been diagnosed with neurogenic atrophy. Basically this means that because my nerve has been dead for so long, my muscles are starting to die because there is no nerve connection. This condition is, at the current time, irreversible.

There are things that I can't do now, because of the extreme pain. Even walking hurts. I was doing so well! I was losing about a pound a week, I was exercising every day, I was logging my calorie intake, and trying to modify it to be healthier. And then this. I almost feel like something, or someone, doesn't want me to lose weight.

I had just about given up. I had stopped trying to exercise at all, and didn't bother to plan my meals or count calories. "What's the point?" I thought. Then something happened in my heart. Not another medical problem, no, a feeling that I couldn't explain. Something deep inside of me, something my Grandmother told me a long time ago that just came back to me in my hour of need, as it were. She told me "You are worth whatever effort it takes to do whatever you want." I realized that my giving up attitude everytime I came against a wall wasn't so much that it was hard to go on, but that I didn't believe that I was worth the effort. If I believe that I'm important and special enough to have good things, then I've got to believe that the effort of achieving those good things, overcoming the stumbling blocks if you will, is worth it.

So, I am going to use my stumbling blocks as stepping stones. I used my arthritis pain as an excuse not to exercise, now I use it as an excuse to get in the pool even though I look like a great white whale - it's the only workout that doesn't hurt. If I can do that, then I can turn this new pain into something that will help me, rather than something that will prevent me from achieving what I want.

Winter and Headcolds are so NOT friends!

From my Spark blog Friday, January 20, 2012

I read somewhere once, I think it was in a Reader's Digest, that it's perfectly healthy to exercise when you have a cold, or any other ailment, as long as you are getting enough sleep. I don't think this is true; at least not for serious head colds. I'm not talking about the "I have a little sniffle and a tiny cough" headcolds, no, I'm talking about the "my head feels ready to explode any moment, I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, and I can't breath out of my nose at all" headcolds. Ow! I can barely move, let alone exercise. But, because I'd read that article, and I am not quitting this time, I decided to try exercising today anyway.

Needless to say, that did not go well! I started walking around my block (because we're having weird January weather, for Utah, and it feels like Spring), and had to sit down on the curb three houses down from mine. When the dizzy spell passed, I walked back home. After resting, and drinking a lot of water and a little snack, I decided to try the treadmill. That wasn't so good either. The noise of the treadmill coupled with the heartbeat in my ears nearly brought on a migraine. So, with a total of just barely 15 minutes, if you count the "walk" outside, I gave up, for today.

I think that my lesson for today is that it is important to listen to my body. I didn't feel well, but I pushed, and then I felt worse. However, I need to be careful to not use illness as an excuse. If I have a severe head cold, then I will do some easy stretches and get plenty of fluids. If I have a little sniffle, I'm walking, or swimming, the whole 30 minutes, or more.

I have had a tendency in the past to let one little setback, like this one today, be the end of my grand plans for weight loss and getting healthy. I seem to have the attitude that if I mess up one day, then one more day doesn't hurt. I am working on developing a different attitude, one where each new day is a new chance to start over and be better. Like I said at the beginning of this post: I am not quitting this time!

I will do this, just not while I have a headcold.

Winter is Stupid

From my Spark blog Tuesday, January 17, 2012

At 5:30 every morning my alarm sounds: time to get up! From about mid-April through September, I jump right out of bed (mostly because I have to pee), at get started in on my day. I love mornings. I love to watch the sun come over the mountains (I live in Utah, and the mountains here are incredible), I love to listen to the birds singing, I love how quiet it is on my street before everyone starts rushing off to work. But right around the first part of October, I don't like getting up with my alarm anymore. I've decided that it's winter: it's stupid! I have learned that I only like mornings when I get up with the sun. I DO NOT LIKE GETTING UP BEFORE THE SUN!

There, I said it: early mornings are for days when the sun gets up before the people do, not for cold, dark winter days. I struggle for nearly half the year getting moving in the mornings. My bed is warm, the floor is cold; and the sun's still in bed, I should be, too. The problem is, when I don't get up with the alarm, I don't have time to exercise. When I don't exercise in the mornings, I eat more during the day - I have yet to figure out that correlation - so winter time has come to mean pack-on-the-pounds time. Last month (December) I gained 14 pounds - 14! That is unacceptable.

What I need to do is create my own little sunshine, at least in my mind, so that I can love dark mornings as well as bright mornings. Right now, as one of my little starter goals for this year, I have my alarm set to play music. Music can heal the soul, and tame the spirit, so it stands to reason that it can create sunshine in the mind, as well.

I am a music junkie, seriously addicted to it. I have over 8,000 songs on my i-pod, and something in every genre, it's actually getting kind of ridiculous to keep it all organized. But, I love it! Having said that, it's easy to pick a different "get up and go" song every day. Sometimes I wake up to a rousing "Anvil Chorus" from the opera Il Trovatore. Sometimes I wake to the Quantum Leap Theme song, sometimes I get moving to Duran Duran's "Reach Up for the Sunrise", and other days I start with "Defying Gravity" from the musical Wicked.

Whatever I begin the day with, it sort of sets the mood: I will conquer, I can do anything, every day is new, I can fly, whatever. I'm so glad that I have music to start my days, I know I couldn't do without it.