Spinning my wheels

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It’s a lovely sunny fall day here; not warm now, and not predicted to get warm, but sunny, nonetheless. We’ve had rain and cool temps for the better part of 10 days so it’s nice to see the sun. I’ve only managed one short bike ride in the last 11 days, not just because of the weather, but also because my daily life has become a long To-Do list, and there isn’t time for much else. Throw crappy weather into the mix and the bikes just sit in the garage for weeks at a time. Fall is here and the party’s over.

By “party” I mean my chance to enjoy an hour or two out of each day. By “enjoy” I mean feel like myself, feel free, feel like I’m going to be okay and that life is worth living.

Over. Gone. Finito. Stick a fork in it…it’s done.

Now begins 8 months of fall/winter and if it’s anything like last winter, I can’t even think about it. The weather was ridiculously horrible and life with my mother equally so. Now here it comes again, and this morning I feel like I can’t go on. I can’t face another day, another week. Week after week, after week, after week…

I will go on, of course. I go on everyday. Every moment of everyday I think I can’t do this anymore.

And then I do.

Nothing changes, and it gets harder and harder, but I go on. I get out of bed every morning before it’s light and I go to the job I have come to hate, and I go home at midday and make lunch for my mom and myself and then I go back to work and then I go home after work and make dinner for my mom and myself and do the dishes and take out the trash and watch TV and go to bed and get up before it’s light and go to work… Somewhere in there I deal with the problems – the millions of problems with my mother or the cats or the house or something – and I go grocery shopping or pick up prescriptions or pay bills, or something.

Everyday. Over and over. The weekends are only different in that I sleep later, do laundry and watch more TV. TV’s all my mother can/wants to do, so that’s what I do. Occasionally we play cards.

No friends. No freedom. Nothing that I like to do. Nothing I choose. No time.

No life.

So I feel like I can’t go on. Not another day.

And then I feel horrible and beat myself up over how ungrateful I am, and how awful to be so miserable over such small things. At least I am alive – I can think of a lot of people who are not who would trade me for just one more day. And what about people who have lost everything in a flood, hurricane or fire, or are ill, or in pain, or living in horrible poverty? What about John McCain all those years in a prison camp? He survived and went on to do great things – to make his life worthwhile.

And here I am – nothing, no one – complaining about my less-than-perfect life. Shame on me.

So the wheels in my head go round and round, and nothing changes and I feel worse and worse. I feel bad about my life and I feel bad about feeling bad.

I just wish I could ride my bike. Somehow when those wheels are spinning, everything gets better.

Maybe tonight, and then I will go on some more.

Balancing Act

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I’m not really into working today. It’s gloomy outside and I didn’t sleep well last night. It’s a perfect day to be curled up on the couch with a cat reading and/or napping. I had a meeting with a department director first thing this morning, though, so I couldn’t take the day off, and so far it’s been a typical Monday, which makes me wish I wasn’t here just that much more.

If it hadn’t been for that meeting, I would have called in (actually I email) and rolled over and gone back to sleep for a couple of hours. I took last Monday off (pre-arranged) and it was really lovely. No Sunday night dread feeling, no Monday crap. The weather was beautiful that day, so I had a nice long bike ride and really enjoyed the day.

What was nice, too, was that I had taken the day off just because I wanted to. I didn’t feel the need to justify it to myself or anyone else. I wanted to do it, I did it, and I enjoyed it. Easy peasy. Doing something just because I want to is one of the things I have missed the past few years. My life is not as uncomplicated as it used to be, and there isn’t much time, money, or energy available these days to indulge my whims.

I’m focused mostly on what needs to be done in the next 10 minutes – cuz there’s always a list and plenty on it between work and home – and I forget to have fun. I forget to just be. I forget that there are things that make me happy that don’t require a lot of effort or money or time, and that I need to do them/have them.

All work and no play makes this girl depressed.

I noticed a couple of weeks ago that I was wearing the same pair of earrings everyday and had been for quite a while. Kind of a silly thing, but it was a red flag to me that I was in “robot” mode, and that if I didn’t try to get out of it I would be completely emotionally paralyzed soon enough.

So I got out all my jewelry and picked out things I hadn’t worn in a while, and I’ve been trading off different rings and earrings everyday. Believe it or not, it makes a difference. Ditto food. I bought some different things at the store last week and I’ve been adding a forgotten favorite or something new to every meal.

Friday I went to the fish market and bought smoked whitefish paté, a particular favorite that I don’t usually allow myself cuz it’s expensive and high in calories, but man, is it good!

Saturday night I had a campfire. I made s’mores, and sat outside in the dark watching the flames and drank a beer. Yesterday I had fried potatoes with breakfast.

Just because I could.

Most importantly, I rode almost every evening after work last week and both afternoons this weekend I was out for 2 hours or so in the heat and the sun, turning the pedals and getting happier with every drop of sweat I shed.

It’s summer and this is my favorite time of year. I need more outside-enjoying-it and less inside-working/doing chores. The work and the chores need to be done, and sometimes even need to come first, but there has to be time for the good stuff, too, or life is just too hard.

So I had to work today, but when I get home I can have some crackers and whitefish paté, and maybe even a short bike ride if it’s stopped raining by then. After dinner and the dishes and the evening with mom, I can climb in bed with the good book I’m reading, and then (I hope) get a good night’s sleep. I’ll think of this as a good day, cuz there was time for everything, including and especially me.

Just one thing

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Yep. I would add my cats and books, but essentially this is it for me, especially lately. Not even the beer that much anymore, and I’d say I’m down to 2 people…but the riding…

Bicycles. Bike stuff.

It’s what makes me happy. Always. Starting as a little kid on a sparkly green Schwinn Stingray, through the years and many bikes, cycling has literally kept me moving through life. Doesn’t matter what’s going on in my life or my head, if I can get out on my bike, hear the wind in my ears, feel the burn in my legs, and the sun on my face, I’m good.

This has been a fairly crappy week at work, but I’ve come in early and left early the past two days so I can get a ride in after work before dinner, and that has made all the difference. It doesn’t change what’s going on at work, or with my mother, but it changes me – my head – and that’s what matters.

I’ve been following the Tour de France online in the mornings at my desk, and listening to Lance Armstrong’s podcasts in the afternoons. On my breaks I look at bikes and bike kits online, dreaming about something new and shiny. At 4:30 I go home and get changed, fill a water bottle, strap on my helmet, climb on my pretty purple bike and go.

Freedom.

That moment when I roll out of the driveway and turn onto the street is golden. Whatever is bugging me floats away and for at least an hour I don’t have to think about anything but keeping my legs moving, my eyes on the road, and how fast and how far I want to go. When I come back I stretch for a while, change out of my sweaty kit and into something comfortable for the evening, and I feel like a different person.

I can breathe. The endorphins are coursing through my brain, telling me that everything’s okay, life is beautiful, and it is.

When I’m riding I’m totally in the moment, totally in my body, not worried about the future or the past. There is just the moment and the road and my legs and turning the pedals. I think about things, but it all seems so far away, and my attention turns quickly  to the trees, the water, and the rabbits, deer, geese and ducks I see all along the way.

What’s here now.

That’s all that matters. That’s true all the time, but it’s easier for me to remember when I’m on my bike. It’s fun and it’s only me doing what I want – what I love – like when I was a little girl flying down the sidewalk on that Stingray.

So, yeah, riding, cats, books, friends, and beer. Simple really. Why does it seem so hard sometimes, so impossible? Life is hard and I get all caught up in what I don’t have and all the crap that drives me nuts. As long as I have those 5 things, though, it’s mostly okay.

Especially that one thing.

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The Great Pretender

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I’m having trouble coming up with my “5 Things That Aren’t Wrong” list today. Every time I try to focus and think of something good, my brain shouts, “BUT…what about this?”  “And this?” “And…” My mind is trying to convince me that everything is wrong, and while at times lately it truly does feel that way, it’s not accurate, of course. The reality is just that my life right now is not the way I would like it to be, which is quite a bit different.

The list of “Not the Way I Want It to Be” things is pretty long, granted. I’m not sure I would say that it includes everything, nor would I call any of it “wrong.” It’s just not what I want. I have a lot of what I don’t want and not enough – almost none – of what I do want, and that’s making life a challenge lately.

It’s a challenge to get up in the morning knowing that the day will be long and full of things I don’t want, but have to deal with, pretending that I’m okay with all of it.

Pretending that I’m not exhausted and completely discouraged and not really knowing how long I can keep it all going.

Pretending that I can think of 5 things that aren’t wrong easily, because there are just so many wonderful things in my life that the only trouble I have is choosing the 5 that are going to be on today’s list!

Pretending that I love my job and it’s no problem taking care of my mom.

Pretending that missing out on all the fun things about summer is NO PROBLEM. And that not having any friends is my choice, and rarely being able to do anything I want to do because there is so much to do and no time left over, is A-OK with me.

Thumbs up, baby! I got this!

The alarm goes off in the morning and I hit the Snooze button over and over cuz I don’t want to get out of bed and face whatever unpleasantness the day has to offer today.  Chances are it will be different than yesterday, but just as challenging, just as uncomfortable, just as exhausting.

Last night I was awakened by my gall bladder in the middle of the night, and for the minute or so I thought I was having a heart attack, I was so relieved. When I realized it was just my gall bladder again – another problem to be dealt with at some point – I cried. On the one hand, relieved that I wasn’t dying after all, on the other disappointed that I wasn’t dying after all. Because dying would at least be a way out.

An end, finally.

Not the end I want, for sure, and this morning I’m glad I survived the night. I had trouble getting out of bed this morning, but I made it to work and I’m getting through the day. I will go home from work and I’ll get through the evening. At some point, I’ll get to go to bed. I’ll set the alarm and dread its din in the morning. At some point in the night I’ll wake up and lay in bed unable to go back to sleep while my brain runs through the inventory of ALL THAT IS WRONG.

And tomorrow I’ll do it all again.

Is this depression? No. In some ways it’s worse than that.

This is Unhappiness. I’m unhappy in my job, unhappy in my private life, unhappy with where I live. I don’t want the life I have. I want the life I want – the life I had – and I can’t convince myself any longer that I’ll have it again someday.

I have to work 5 1/2 more years, and it would be ridiculous after 18 years to start somewhere new all over again, even if I could find a job in this small town that pays as well as my current job and has insurance. 5 1/2 years seems like an eternity to me right now. And I don’t think my mother is ever going to die. She seems to be getting better and stronger everyday. That shouldn’t make me unhappy – what kind of a ghoul am I? – but it does. There’s no solution. There’s no way out or around, there is only through, and that is so discouraging.

It’s simple: I’m done.

But it’s not over and won’t be for a long time, maybe never. I’m trapped, and I have to pretend that I’m not. I’ve reached the point where I can fool everyone around me, but I can no longer fool myself.

The Great Pretender isn’t so great after all.

 

Summer madness

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This greeted me this morning on Instagram, and I realized that the reason I’ve been feeling so cranky lately is because I’m wanting something other than what I have.

Duh.

I know better than this, right? Live in the moment, accept what is. But here I am again, wishing and hoping, looking to the future to save me from the present. Oh well, I’m not perfect. Surprise, surprise.

Summer is my favorite time of year, and where I live it’s short. Three glorious months of sunshine and warm weather. The list of things I like to do in the summer is long, and almost all of them involve being outside. In my present living and working situation my time is limited and by necessity I spend most of my time indoors.

Not what I want.

I really enjoyed my 5-day mini-vacation before the 4th. The weather was fabulous and I took long bike rides every afternoon, spent most mornings reading on the patio, and had campfires (s’mores!) a couple of evenings. This past weekend was nice, too, and I enjoyed a couple of nice rides, which really is my priority in the summer, so I was a happy girl.

Now today I’m back at work, freezing in my ridiculously over-air conditioned office, trying to keep up with today’s Tour de France stage via live feed from Cycling News, and feeling sorry for myself that I’m not retired and free to enjoy this lovely summer day doing something fun outside.

Not what I want.

Tonight when I get home I may have time for a short ride, but the bulk of the evening will be spent cooking dinner, doing dishes, and hanging out with mom inside watching TV. Tomorrow night groceries, cooking, dishes, TV. Rinse, repeat. Everyday until the weekend, when I’m freer to be outside more because I’m not working and mom hasn’t been alone all day. If the weather holds I can have a nice long ride each afternoon, as I did this weekend.

Not horrible, but not what I want.

I want to be free. I want to ride for a couple of hours after work every night like I used to. I want to walk home for lunch and sit at my table outside in the backyard and eat while reading. I want to go out with friends and sit at a table outside and drink a beer and laugh and have fun. I want to go down to the park and enjoy whatever band is playing on Thursday night and look at the boats and people in the marina while I listen. I want to go to the beach and spend all day there soaking up the sun and swimming in the lake and reading.

I don’t want to sit in this cold office and do work I don’t like for difficult people. I don’t want to cover the front office at noon and deal with all the questions I don’t know the answers to that people come in or call with. I don’t want to hear about all the fun things my co-workers did last weekend or last night. I don’t want to deal with the tourist traffic to get home to make lunch for mom and scarf my lunch so I can get back in time.

I don’t want to have every minute of everyday scheduled with things I do for other people and don’t enjoy. I want to be free.

But I’m not. I’m not free, and I’m not having a lot of fun. Wishing and hoping and thinking about the future (when I’m retired and my mother is gone) doesn’t change that. And in the big scheme of things it’s not even that important. Lots of people work in jobs they don’t like and have family responsibilities. Most people, in fact. I have always worked and there seemed to be enough time for other things. I was lucky to have the freedom I did before.

And I totally get how lucky I am that my biggest complaint right now is that I’m not having fun.

So, poor me. I need to gently remind myself to just be here now. This is how it is, and until it changes (and it will, for better or worse) I need to find contentment in the moment right now, cuz really that’s all there is. The future is not guaranteed. Anything can happen.

Eckhart Tolle says, “Leave the situation, change the situation, or accept it. All else is madness.”

Exactly. I’m driving myself mad for no reason. I can’t leave my mother or my job, and changing anything right now would be counterproductive. So acceptance is the only way. It works the way it is, and that’s what matters. The rest is gravy and that just makes you fat.

On with the day, and the summer, and the year. one minute at a time. Appreciating what is.

Got it. Whew!

 

 

Back to the future

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Dick Eastman shared this video on his blog yesterday, and I’m captivated by it. It’s been modified on a computer so that it plays at normal speed and you can hear the sound. It looks like real life – not the speedy herky-jerkiness of most old films that make the people seem like cartoons. These folks look like real people. It’s a window into time. Dick says:

“As you watch this video, please think about this: every single person in it is no longer alive, and strangers 100 years later are watching them from devices the folks in the video had never seen or heard of before, called “computers” and “smart phones.”

I think that’s exactly what fascinates me about it. We’re watching ghosts. Only they weren’t ghosts then. They were people, just like you and me, living their lives that day, just like any other day. Worried about their kids, or their job, or thinking about the weekend, or whatever. They mattered to other people – their families, friends, co-workers. They had names and addresses.

In no way could they know what the next day would bring, or the next hour, or even the next minute. Just like us. They couldn’t see into the future. They certainly couldn’t have imagined that a 56 year-old woman in Michigan would be watching them walk down a street in New York City 107 years later on a little screen, while sitting at her desk, taking a break from work.

In 1911 so much was ahead that would affect their lives – the Titanic sinking, WWI, the influenza epidemic, all just in the next few years. And beyond – could the black man driving that car envision a time in this country when all people of color would be free and able to vote? How many of those women in their hats and long dresses were suffragettes? Just 9 years until they were able to vote. Much longer for the black driver  – did he live to enter a voting booth legally?

It’s all so strange to think about – individuals and history, and the reality that we’re all here for a short time and that the world will go on after we’re gone. Whatever troubled those people in 1911, or gave them joy is gone with them. The baby in the stroller had a whole life ahead. Just a little younger than my grandmother – I wonder where she lived and whether she married, whether her children and grandchildren carry on now. Perhaps she died in childhood. Many children died then from diseases we think nothing of now.

What will the world be like in 2125? What will the people then make of our lives 107 years earlier, in which every moment is documented on social media? That’s if there still are humans then, and a planet for them to inhabit. We can no more imagine life in 2125 than these folks in 1911 could envision 2018.

I love to think about things like this, but it sort of sends my head spinning, too. In 1911 there were roughly 1.6 billion people on this planet. In 2018 it’s 7 times that. Six billion more people. Walking around, living their lives, just like you and me. Some will be born today. Some will die. Most of us are known only to a handful of people  – more now, I guess, thanks to social media – not very important in the big scheme of things. Important, though, to ourselves and to our family and friends and our communities.

Ultimately, my life still comes down to what is facing me today – my mom, my work, my bike ride this evening. What I had for breakfast, what I’m going to have for lunch and dinner. How much sleep I got last night and how much I’m going to get tonight, what comes in the mail, and whether I’ll hear from a friend or family member online or via text. What I think about or read or watch. Who and what I care about.

Tomorrow will be much the same, probably. And after that, and after that…

The same was true for the people in the video, because that’s life. It’s in each moment, each activity, each thought, each emotion. They had their joys and sorrows, and so do we, played out in each moment of our time on this planet. Life doesn’t happen in hundreds of years, not really. It happens now, moment by moment.

That’s the challenge: BE HERE NOW. I struggle with it everyday – I want to know what’s ahead. I worry and I plan until anxiety starts to rule my life again, and then I have to step back – literally – into the moment, and breathe. Breathe.

Breathe.

We can’t see the future. We head into it blindly moment by moment, day by day. That’s the way it’s always been, and probably will always be. It’s scary and exciting, and the only way to do it is just to take a step. And another.

And another.

And breathe. Just breathe.

 

 

Give me a break

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I haven’t had a vacation since December and the last 6 months have been very stressful. So I think this is a great idea. I need a break. I’m taking the 2 days prior to the 4th of July off next week, which  means I have a 5-day weekend coming up. It won’t be a complete break as I will still have all my mom/household chores, but 5 days of sleeping in and leisurely afternoon bike rides will be fabulous, and I’m really looking forward to it. The weather is forecasted to be really warm and sunny, so reading on the patio might be on the schedule, as well.

Really, though, I’m not making plans for those 5 days beyond the appointment I just made to have my hair trimmed on Tuesday. I’m giving myself permission to do only the necessary daily chores for those 5 days, and the rest of the time to just do what seems fun and/or relaxing. For me that means riding my bike for as long as I wish to in the sunshine and warmth of a summer afternoon, and then sitting in a comfortable chair reading. I don’t have nearly enough time in my “regular” schedule to do either of those things as much as I’d like to, so this will be my chance.

So – two breaks in one – I’m giving myself  some time away from work and I’m giving myself permission to do nothing “useful” for those 5 days if I don’t feel like it.

It’s probably going to eat at me a little that I’m not cleaning out the garage or weeding the flowerbeds, but I will persevere. My mother will probably make a few “suggestions” of constructive uses of my time, but I will tune her out. These are my 5 days. I’ve earned them, and I’m going to enjoy them.

I used to be really great at “wasting” time, but I used to have a lot more of it, too. There was time enough when I lived alone to get everything done AND do the fun things. That’s not true anymore. Stuff has to get done for life to be pleasant for the most part – cooking, cleaning, dishes, laundry, cat care – I feel better about life and about myself when those basic things are taken care of. Ditto mowing the lawn, feeding the birds and watering the flowers.

Over the Memorial Day holiday I had a list of 10 “big” things to do to get ready for summer and I got them all done. I felt good about that, and I didn’t regret spending that time that way. I like to be productive, mostly. It’s possible to do too much, though, and to get burned out, and that’s what I’m trying to avoid.

The older I get the more I understand the value in pacing myself. There is always going to be a TO-DO list. There is never a point at which everything that can be done is done. My mother’s needs alone are like a giant swirling abyss I can get lost in if I’m not careful.

So I’m tired and I’m giving myself a break. Before I break.

And I’m going to enjoy every lovely minute of it.

 

 

My wild, messy heart

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I’ve been thinking a lot about connection and belonging, since listening to this TED talk by Brene Brown a few days ago. Belonging is not something I’m particularly good at, proven over and over throughout my life. I almost always feel more comfortable on my own. I was an only child, so entertaining and comforting myself were skills I learned early on.

I also learned early on that when you are connected to people, family especially, their problems are your problems and you can get caught up in the chaos forever. I discovered young, too, that if people think there’s something different about you or if they think you may need help, they will shy away. Having spent much of my life experiencing major depressive episodes 2 or 3 times a year, I found it was best to have fewer connections so that I could slip in and out of my life as necessary without losing too much each time. So, while friendly, I kept most people at arm’s length.

Depression made belonging to a group or club difficult, too, as there were times I couldn’t go to meetings or complete an assigned task on time. I usually ended up quitting fairly quickly, even if I enjoyed the people and the club, and finally I just stopped joining things. Ditto friends and lovers. Hard to maintain a relationship when you can’t be counted on to be the same person everyday.

Now my mother consumes my time, not depression, but the effect is the same. I have very few connections now. The ones I have are solid, but not usually a part of my daily life. They are busy people, too, and it’s hard to keep in touch or get together. That will probably not always be true, especially for me after my mother is gone, so those connections will remain and get stronger, I’m sure, and for that I’m grateful.

But then the question becomes where will I belong? Really the only group I’ve ever felt fully a part of is my family – my mom, dad, and grandma. For better or worse, I belonged to those people. I belong with my mom, now, just the two of us left. I know that’s where I’m supposed to be and that she is my “home.” Our family was not always a refuge for me, but it was always where I knew who and how to be and that I was loved. They took care of me and I took care of them, and continue to take care of my mom, and that’s what connection and belonging is all about.

Commitment. That’s really what it boils down to. Shared commitment to each other. Shared interests, common viewpoints, similar, if not completely shared, goals. I see you, you see me, we are the same. In order to have that kind of connection, you have to be clear about who you are and what you want, and you have to be willing and able to show that to others.

Vulnerability.

For me, and for most people, that’s a very scary word. Without it, though, you can’t really connect with another person, and you can’t really belong. At least, not authentically. If you can’t let people see the real you, then that connection doesn’t really have much meaning and it will break fairly easily. That’s what I’ve experienced most of my life, as I was mostly hiding, not living fully, and not connecting fully – or at all – in most cases.

That’s not me now, though, so the question becomes where do I find “my people?” After the last of my family is gone – my mother – where will I belong?

I think Ms. Brown has the answer in the quote above:

True belonging is not something we achieve, accomplish, or negotiate with others – it’s something we carry in our hearts.

I belong to me, first and foremost. I belong to the universe and the stars, the Earth, and the human race. I belong to my ancestors, and to my family as long as they live in my memory. I belong to my friends – the people I love and the people who love me – and to all the people I don’t know personally who have helped me on my path.

I know and love who I am – messy heart – and all, and I’m not hiding anymore. Here I am, all of me, ready to rejoin the world, life.

I belong.

How do you mend a broken heart?

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This has been a pretty intense week. All about life and death, really, nothing less.

On Monday my mom had an episode of some kind – I’m not sure if it was a stroke or a seizure – and she fainted. She was out cold for 2-3 minutes. She stopped breathing twice, and for several seconds I thought she was dead. She woke up, though, and over the course of that day came fully back to herself, though she felt a little like she had been hit by a truck. By Tuesday evening, though, you would never know it had happened.

On Wednesday I went to have an echocardiogram, cuz when I was at the doc for a physical last week she thought she heard a murmur, and was concerned that maybe I have a partially blocked artery. I had high cholesterol and high blood pressure, and in the past 2 years or so I’ve managed to control both with exercise and diet, and bring those numbers down. So I thought I was in pretty good shape, and honestly, I’m not that worried about something that’s going to kill me in 30 years. Cancer is what concerns me. I’ve had 2 middle-aged friends die in the past 2 weeks from cancer, not heart disease. I don’t know anyone who has died from heart disease, in fact; everyone I know died from cancer.

Laying there listening to the blood whoosh through my heart was sobering, though. I had a psychic tell me a long time ago that I had a broken heart; that’s what I was thinking about while the friendly young women was moving the sensor around my chest. Could there really be something wrong? Is my heart broken? I’m only 56. How could I be having heart trouble? I don’t have the results of the test yet, but I’m hopeful that it was nothing and that I’m as healthy as I think I am.

Then yesterday, I got word via Facebook that a friend who has been battling cancer for a few years had taken a turn for the worse and the doctors had sent her home to die. She was only 50, a recent grandmother, a bright spot in our little community – just a beautiful soul. Last night she died, with her very large family around her, and I just feel so bad about that. I will miss her, even though I didn’t know her very well. She always made me smile.

So near-death, worrying about death, and actual death in the space of 5 days. My head is spinning a little and my heart is breaking (figuratively) for Leslie and her family and friends. Through it all I’ve really been trying to just take it all in, let it be, and then let it go. So much sadness and loss in the last 2 weeks; but life goes on. My mom will die, people I care about will die, and I will die. That’s the reality of this Life, and there’s no getting around it.

Don’t take a minute for granted.

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Leslie Anne Miller Knoop 1967-2018

Rest in peace.

Rest in Peace

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Kate Spade. Anthony Bourdain. Julie Farmer.

The first two you know. The third one you probably don’t. She died this week, too. Unlike the other two, she didn’t choose to die. Cancer stole her life just as thoughtlessly and heartlessly as a thief in the night. She was 47 years old, beautiful and kind, and the mother of three children. She wasn’t rich or famous, but she had lots of friends and family – people who loved her and stood by her until the end, which was brutal. She was brave and loved life, even as she lay dying.

Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain took their own lives. For whatever reason they felt they couldn’t go on. We will probably never really know. To look at them from the outside, they seemed to have everything. We look at them in the media and think how lucky they are, how easy life must be for them. Money, and work they loved and were good at, travel, excitement. Awards and accolades, fame, luxury. They had everything we think we want. In the end, apparently, none of it mattered. It wasn’t enough.

No one understands depression and suicidal ideation better than me. Believe me, I get it. I’ve considered suicide on a regular basis since I was a teenager. I have deep compassion for anyone who makes that very final choice. Depression whispers in your ear – it’s hopeless, it will never get better, there’s only one way out. It convinces you that the problem is not that life is hard, and that it’s hard for everyone, even if it doesn’t look like it from the outside – the problem is you. You suck. You can’t cut it. You’re a loser. What’s the point?

Depression lies.

It’s like cancer, in that it steals your life, your mind, your joy.  Maybe Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain discovered that all the money, fame and success are not what makes life worth living. Those things are nice and they bring us momentary happiness and the buzz of millions of endorphins. None of us would turn any of that down. But it’s not what lasts. It’s not what gives us the strength to keep going when things aren’t so great.

To truly find joy in life and to make it through the hard times, you have to have one thing: LOVE.

Love for yourself, first and foremost. You’re fine. Life is hard for everyone. It’s not just you. You’re not perfect. No one is. We’re all just doing the best we can. Don’t compare yourself to others – you’re only seeing the shiny clean outside wrapper, not what’s going on inside. There is no such thing as a perfect life.

There is only your life and mine and what we make of it. You don’t have to save the world. You only have to save yourself. Don’t worry about what you imagine other people think about you or your choices. The only person you have to answer to is yourself. This is your life. It’s the only one you get and it’s short. Be kind to the part of you that’s broken, that tells you you’re less than or that you’re doing it wrong, or that you’re unloveable. Love that part of you and then let it go.

Love yourself and then you can really love others. In this life love is the only thing that matters. It’s not a cliche. It’s simply true.

Love yourself. You’re here on this planet and you’re doing the best that you can, and you’re awesome. You’ll be gone before you know it, so enjoy the ride. Don’t get off before your stop. You’ll be there soon enough.

Too soon.

RIP Julie.

Julie H. Farmer 1970 – 2018

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