Mental health, Spirituality

Nothing can hold me down

There are so many negative cliches about aging. After my 21st birthday, I could care less about celebrating my birthday. Now at 40, I fully embrace my years on this earth and am proud of where I am mentally. I feel that the challenges I have faced created many opportunities to learn, grow, evolve and helped me to gain more wisdom. When somebody asks me how old I am, I’m glad to tell them. For me this is a stark difference from how I felt even ten years ago.

A few factors contribute to how our society views age, most especially how each gender ages. Men become distinguished looking when their hair turns gray and women are described as old. The beauty industry drives these ideas about aging by producing products to stop or help freeze time from affecting our looks. Many of us subscribe to the idea that aging is bad and not something to be celebrated based solely upon our outward appearances instead of what really matters which is how we feel on the inside. Granted, I sometimes feel more tired or sore after doing activities that in the past didn’t faze me physically. Lately however I have become more interested in how my mind works, specifically how I cope with life’s struggles. My age has definitely improved my over all outlook and I feel more positive that I will overcome whatever life throws at me.

In my youth growing up, when a problem arose it felt like the end of the world and impossible to overcome. I was much more pessimistic with even the thought of facing dark times. Experience has now shown me that things can always be worse and with patience the light will eventually prevail. I trust in that because I now trust in myself.

I have had a few people in my life that were determined to break my spirit physically, mentally and emotionally. I have endured harsh abuse from those that were supposed to love me. Initially these situations left me doubting, blaming and hating myself. I was allowing these people to own space in my mind and ultimately control me. I passively accepted whatever they projected upon me and internalized their evil which had me spending years in a heavy depressed state suffering in my own mental prison.

Now on the other side of that hell, I realize that what changed was a shift in my perception of reality. I believe experience (age) has been my best friend in dealing with how best to navigate whatever life throws at me. I refuse to suffer and take on the negativity of others actions. As an empath this is one of the most important lessons I have had to implement for my own safety and peace of mind. For years I was easily confused by all the controlling energy and aggressive emotions swirling around me. I have had to learn boundaries to protect myself from these unwanted effects from certain people. When I encounter these people I am now keenly aware of how my body responds to their energy. I feel like I’m suffocating and I instantly feel nervous and unsafe. Becoming aware of these changes to my own well being has become key to successful breaking the cycle.

I use positive mantras, meditation and essential oils to ground me. I have learned to check in with myself and become mindful when assessing what I am feeling. Trusting my gut and listening to the clues I am given. In the past I was either unaware or unwilling to question these internal clues. I feel age has taught me that when something doesn’t feel right I need to pay attention to it and not ignore it. Mostly I think I was fearful of these mystery feelings. I only became aware that I am an intuitive and physical empath a few years ago by the guidance of my long term therapist. Before her insight¬† directed me to my truth I just thought I was crazy. I didn’t know how to explain what was going on internally, distracting me and pulling my focus away. I lived in a perpetual state of fear. I didn’t discuss these feelings and thoughts with anyone because I didn’t think anybody would understand. I was trapped inside this enormous web of complex emotions without any idea of if what I was feeling belonged to me or someone else around me. I also get what I call “visions” which I see in my mind like words on a banner. These can be either a premonition for the future or the thoughts of someone I am close to. These days it’s most times the thoughts of my fiance. I have only recently become able to properly handle this phenomenon going on inside me 24/7.

These thoughts and feelings used to absolutely exhaust me, terrify me and depress me leaving me completely clueless as to what was going on. I am so grateful to my therapist and to my friend who is a fellow empath who educated me on ways to protect myself. Life lessons that are invaluable. This poem reflects how I feel today!

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Mental health, Spirituality

A new chapter and more life lessons

This week I have started a new and long awaited chapter in my life. I have a new job doing something I have always wanted to and finally the opportunity presented itself. For the very first time I am able to focus on myself and what I want to do career wise. I have struggled with that concept my entire life for many reasons. Mostly because the fear of failure has always plagued me. My natural instincts and caring for others has always been my main focus. These past two and a half years have taught me many lessons. My fiance was diagnosed with a challenging medical condition that has required so much of my support. He and I had our own business that ultimately failed due to his health issues. Our life went on pause mode while we worked to get him healthy.

If I had to choose one virtue that I relied upon during this time, it would be patience. There is no truer act of love than patience. The innumerable amount of unknowns he and I have encountered, all the wait and see periods involving new medications for him and how much his diagnosis has impacted my life were extremely challenging. Bearing witness to his journey of adjusting, learning to cope with his new “normal” and acceptance has been very inspiring. This process¬† has also proven to me my own strength and endurance for coping with so many difficult situations. During these years he gave me the nickname of, “Tephlon”. In truth we have both become incredibly strong mentally because we support each other with love. I have spent 99% of these past years never leaving his side. The trust he has gained in me has allowed us to grow closer emotionally which is so beautiful.

During this darkness I try to recognize the positive lessons I’m learning. I am a firm believer in everything that happens to me is for a reason. I’ve become acutely aware of how shifting my attachment can decrease my suffering. Within every troubling situation we encounter there is a choice to be made about how much or how little mental energy we should grant it. The impact on me, how much power am I willing to give it until I start to crumble under it’s pressure. I have learned it’s far better for my sanity to not allow a lot of negativity to hang around in my mind for too long. I achieve this by meditating and compartmentalizing. Looking for the silver lining. We create so much of our own suffering by the way we frame our thoughts. It’s one of the few things we do have control over in life. Many terrible things around us will happen all throughout our life’s journey but it’s up to us how we handle it.

My friends have ask me a lot, how do you deal with _______? It’s all in how I choose to attach myself to it. At times I can get bogged down in depressive episodes where I can’t make sense around any of what’s going on. My mind becomes so foggy and I get physically cold, all I want to do is lay under my blankets and hide from the world. I believe this too serves a purpose. I have learned to accept that my mind has been traumatized for so long by fear and sadness. In order for me to accept any challenge I must reflect upon who I am and what I have overcome. By giving myself time to explore within what has worked for me in the past, I am able to see the choice I should make. Most of all, I refuse to give up or quit because my will to evolve is so strong. These are all choices we must make when we can claim that power.

I am absolutely grateful for all of it. The good as well as the bad stuff. If everything was easy and nothing changed I wouldn’t have grown. I wouldn’t have acquired so many important skills. In a past blog post I wrote about how I have a hard time believing and trusting myself. If I didn’t choose to go through these hardships with a positive outlook, I wouldn’t have discovered that has now changed.

For the first time in awhile I think I’m gonna be ok.

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#divorce, Mental health

Some words from the broken hearted

It’s really difficult for me to think about my two boys these days. As a result of my divorce from their father, my ex-husband, we have become estranged. For the last 18 months I have had no communication with either of my teenage sons. My oldest told me I was no longer welcome in his life. Those words felt like bullets going through my heart. My youngest remained connected to me through social media but never responded to my many attempts to message with him and has now blocked¬† me like his brother did. I don’t even know what they look like now. I have not visited with them since August of 2016. Every holiday and major event during the year, I¬† eat my heart out scrolling through social media at my friend’s pictures of their children. This post is my attempt at processing the¬† roller coaster of emotions I go through daily concerning my boys.

I got married at 22 years old and all I wanted to do was become a mother and create my own family, do it my way. My oldest son was my honeymoon baby and was born 10 months after my wedding. I had left my position working at a high end retail department store months before I gave birth. I happily chose to become a stay at home mother. I relished it, thrived at it and thoroughly enjoyed every second of being the one whom was in charge of caring for my children full time. I took parenting classes, attended workshops, read countless books and joined Mommy groups. I ran my household like a well oiled machine. I took different kinds of classes with both of my boys including swimming, music, arts, sports, dancing and gymnastics. I cooked all three meals a day for my family. In addition, I cared for our two dogs and two cats. At one point we added a turtle to that mix.

Looking back on those ten years of my life, one constant thought always plagues my memories. I didn’t appreciate my life at that time. I took for granted all that I had and was not 100% grateful. That is hard to admit to myself let alone write here but it’s the truth. I owned two beautiful homes during those years, went on great vacations and was there for my boys at all times. In 2010 all of that, my life as I knew it was altered dramatically. My mind began to break apart and everyday I would “lose it” a bit more than the day before.

My ex-husband and I were one of the 1.2 million households to lose our home in the housing market crash of 2008. We weathered that loss by moving back to my childhood home and in with my parents. As awesome as it was for me to live in my hometown and have my boys take advantage of all the privledges that I was afforded growing up, it became more and more difficult to be reminded of my own childhood’ s ugly memories. The summer of 2010 my little family moved back to the state we had resided most of my adult life. It was really bittersweet and in hindsight I should of spoken up about what was happening with me mentally.

The last shred of sanity I had was gone completely by late December 2010. I remember that Christmas sitting in my in-laws house and feeling so numb and disconnected from reality, like I was sitting behind glass watching my boys open their presents. In early January I told my ex-husband that I didn’t love him anymore, I felt “crazy” and not myself. I then proceeded to demand that he and my boys move out. My actions were cold and unfeeling, I refused to discuss anything. In reality, I wasn’t able to reason or make sense out of anything during that time. I remember staring out my window, tears streaming down my face, scared to death because I didn’t understand what was happening. It’s like another person took the wheel of my life and was in the driver’s seat; I became an unwilling passenger forced to be a spectator to my own life and not a participant. I now understand, dissociative episodes were emerging.

Over the months following my family’s departure I proceeded to try and fill the deep holes in my heart because of the damage my mind had caused by doing everything to disgusting excess.¬† My exercise routines, eating habits(starving myself) and drinking went into overdrive. I was working three jobs during that time and sleeping no more than 4 hours at night. It was complete hypomania behavior and I sustained it for months. I was desperately trying to do anything to distract my mind and stop my troubling feelings from bubbling up to the surface.

Then came the crash, my suicide attempt and subsequent hospitalzations. I was diagnosed with a slew of acronyms from the DSM-5 and put on an overlong list of medications to combat my ever changing symptoms. It wasn’t until four years later that my long term therapist and I were able to FINALLY get to a proper diagnosis of Complex PTSD. I believe living with my family from 2008-2010 triggered all the deep seeded traumas my mind hadn’t processed properly and became the catalyst for my complete mental breakdown. My boys being forced to witness my mother, their grandmother,¬† scream at me and physically fight their grandfather. I remember my oldest calling out in fear, “grandma stop yelling at my Mommy.” Having my boys become a part of my dysfunctional past was more than I could ultimately bear.

I have read many articles on how people with a history of childhood trauma left untreated, can result in bipolar like behaviors as an adult. Many of these people have also been misdiagnosed which results in delay of healing. Unfortunately, I had little support from loved ones during this time which exacerbated my condition. I did everything I could to see my boys every other weekend. I would push myself to muster the energy it took so I could function as “normally” as possible during our weekends together. In 2013, I made the drastic decision to enter a long term treatment facility many states away from where I was living and from my boys.

I completed that treatment and did everything in my power to stay in communication with my boys. I wrote many letters, we video chatted, and stayed in touch by our social media accounts. In 2016, I attempted to move back to the state they reside in with my ex-husband. It’s also unfortunately the state where so many traumatizing abuses happened to me. Those memories and flashbacks proved too great for me to overcome so I left there again for third time since 2008. It is the hardest decision I ever have had to make. I promised my boys I would try again to make their state my home. In the end, I have had to come to terms with my failure to make that happen. I feel so much guilt, shame, sadness and anger within myself for that decision. I have had to do a lot of soul searching and reckoning just to get out of bed everyday.

I know my boys must feel abandoned and they are justified in their anger. I have tried on numerous occasions to talk with them about their feelings, ask if they have questions for me etc. Unfortunately my ex-husband is not willing to participate in my healing, he is still bitter over our divorce and we haven’t spoken in almost 4 years. It’s most unfortunate for my boys who have to suffer because the adults in their lives can’t work together in their best interest. My ex has succeeded in erasing me from their lives for now. I have tried calling and texting the number I have for him, sending letters and emails…..ANYTHING to get him to talk to me. Last spring, I mustered up the courage to call my ex-mother in-law in an attempt to talk with my boys. I am glad that not only did she answer but I was able to thank her for loving and caring for my boys in my absence. She told me they are doing well and that she gives them my letters. I don’t know the actual address where my boys live so I mail my letters to my -ex in-laws house.

Coming to terms with this situation has taken an arduous effort on my part. The ones who I feel the worst for are the two boys who are growing up without their Mother. I hope someday they will forgive me and reach out to repair our broken relationship. Deep down I do have faith that will happen. I’m proud to say that throughout the separation, divorce and estrangement I have never spoken a bad word about their father to them.¬† I refuse to damage their image of him. I know what it’s like to have a parent’s disdain for the other parent ruin the minds of their children. My mother always spoke negatively about my father,¬† how he wouldn’t want me if they got divorced, how much he didn’t like me even comparing us when I did or said something she didn’t approve of. That forces a child to dislike themselves and look upon those comparisons of character in a shameful way. I refuse to engage in that kind of parent against parent warfare.

Every single day, I spend time thinking about both of my boys. I look at pictures, I cry and I forgive myself for missing out on their childhood. I use the helpful technique of compartmentalizing my thoughts to aid me in exploring those difficult emotions. I also write. This is a poem I hope to share with my boys someday.

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Domestic violence, Mental health, Spirituality

A voice from within

Traditionally October and November have been difficult months for me stemming from the severe traumatic abuse I endured seven years ago. It’s a fact that those with PTSD (I have Complex PTSD) can suffer from the “anniversary effect” from our trauma.¬† For that reason, when fall rolls around, the smell in the air can trigger memories I would rather forget. For me, I especially get triggered by locations in the state I was living in at that time. Ironically, Autumn has always been my favorite season yet since those dark months in 2011, I have become quite conflicted about this time of year.

This year I can also include September as a challenging month due to the Supreme Court nomination hearings for Brett Kavanaugh. I forced myself to listen to Dr. Christine Balsey Ford’s testimony before Congress because I have had the similar experience of having to tell the deepest,darkest most intimate details of abuse one could ever talk about in front of a room (in her case, the entire world) of strangers. After my abuse, I filed a restraining order against my ex boyfriend. Thankfully, I¬† had support from a dear friend at the time who literally held my hand as he led me into the courthouse. My voice trembling, I mumbled into a microphone my account of details surrounding abuse that was inflicted upon me in my own home by a monster of a man. He not only had the audacity to try and fight against receiving the restraining order, he attempted to call me out as a liar saying I made it all up! For two days in that courtroom I recounted the minutes and hours of my life for the previous two months of October and November of 2011. After the first day, the judge said he needed to review my case including notes from the many police reports that were filed on my behalf from my neighbors calls to try and protect me from what they could apparently hear going on at my house.¬† It was the most gut wrenching, shameful and embarrassing experience of my life. I don’t wish that situation upon my worst enemy. In the end, the judge granted me the restraining order and had some harsh words for my abuser before banging the gavel down. Ultimately, I ended up moving out of the state I was living in because my flashbacks and memories became increasingly too intense for me to function normally. I can admit now how life altering that time was and how it taught me several difficult life lessons.

I wrote the poem “Within” after watching Dr. Ford’s portion of the hearing and before Judge Kavanaugh’s testimony. I tapped into those same feelings she evoked in me and those that I felt during my own hearing. Then I twisted it into what would of happened had I not had the voice within me that I heard because it saved my life. I attempted to take my own life November 12, 2011 because I thought my abuser would kill me. It was my attempt at controlling the situation. My mindset was he’s not going to kill me, I will kill me. That thought and feeling combined with my action of taking a bottle of Xanax chased with a half bottle of Vodka was my desperate attempt to end all the pain. I believe God was presenting me with a tremdous gift in the moments after I woke up in the hospital. The gift of desperation is what ultimately saved my life. The decisions and steps I took to recover and heal from my abuse has helped me evolve into the strong woman I am today. The pain, the sorrow along with the hope and faith. I gratefully embrace it all.

*****A huge thank you to https://blog.feedspot.com/spiritual_blog/ for including Emotional Musings in their top 100 Spirituality Blogs for 2018. It is a huge honor to be recognized on my journey and in my mission to help heal others!!! A million thanks!

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#afterlife, Angels, Mental health, Spirituality

Signs of beauty from beyond

I haven’t always believed in angels specifically the guardian kind. Growing up and trying to navigate through life as the emotional being I am was very challenging for me because of my family of origin. I didn’t have the guidance from either of my parents, neither one of them ever came to me when I was sad in my room to talk to me or seemed to even care about my feelings. It always seemed like a burden, an after thought, something that fell by the wayside. My battered soul was the by product and result from their lack of communication regarding emotions. Instilling fear and guilt were perfectly excuted by both my mother and father yet how to cope with sadness and anger were void from existence. I wasn’t aware then that there were angels around me guarding and protecting me. In fact, at that time if somebody had¬† told me so I wouldn’t have believed them anyways.

Books became my best friends. I especially enjoy biographies and memoirs. I used to day dream about what my life would be like if Mother Teresa (my middle name coincidentally) or even Maya Angelou were my mother. I have always admired these two women for their thoughtful insights about spreading love and kindness. I am however eternally grateful that I did have one selfless and generously loving  woman in my life growing up, my Nana.

Ellie was always the life of the party, the matriarch of our family. Growing up we were always closer to my mother’s side of the family, to this day I’m unsure why. My mother’s mother, my grandma, my Nana was an extraordinary woman. I always remember her being so cheerful and happy to visit with us. She taught me how to sew and make Russian nutballs around Christmas time. She was our biggest cheerleader and I always looked forward to her letters. Her swirly expressionist handwriting was sometimes difficult to read but looking back it was so her. Upbeat and animated, like she lived her life. Unfortunately she and my Pop-Pop lived in Florida and I was raised in New Jersey so we didn’t have the luxury of seeing her whenever we wanted to. They retired there permantly when I was about six or seven I think so most of my memories are of our visits to Florida or when they would come up to stay for the holidays. Nana lived to sing and dance. In fact I remember her getting up on the table, or threatening to after have one to many Black Russians at a restraunt for dinner once. She sure was a lively character! We would go caroling at Christmas around the neighborhood with Nana as our leader. Ellie had a huge and generous heart. I believe it stemmed from her growing up in an orphanage. Her personality shown through in her style, her hair, jewelry and outfits were always impeccable.

Today, had she lived Nana would be 97. Fifteen years ago she was diagnoised with ovarian cancer. It was unbelievable to all of us because she was always so healthy and took no medications even into her 80s! The doctors put her on chemotherapy and I believed that’s what did her in. She passed away thirteen years ago on St.Patrick’s day. My 4’11 Polish and Irish Nana went to sing with the angels. I was utterly devastated and heart broken. At the time, I couldn’t foresee the devastating consequences her death would have on me. Her passing was the beginning of all of my major losses including my house, my marriage and my mind.

Along my journey to recovery, one of my therapists who I attribute so much of my success to, guided me in visualizing my guardian angel. We were talking about who in my life whether alive or dead would want to take all my burdens away. Who in my life loved me so much that they wouldn’t want me to feel so sad and depressed about my life as I was at the time. It didn’t take long for me to answer her, it was undeniably my Nana. She helped me understand that Nana was in fact my guardian angel and that all I needed to do was talk to her. Call upon her for advice, protection, warmth and a sense of peace. In return I would receive signs of her existence working on my behalf here on Earth.

I wrote this poem and it’s dedicated to my Nana. She sends me signs from the beyond¬† in the form of butterflies and birds. Just the very thought of her makes me smile. I love you Nana, this one’s for you.

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Anxiety, Mental health, Spirituality, Women's self care

Friend in the mirror

A few months ago in August I did something I never thought I would do. I fearlessly posted a no make-up selfie with words on it that represent me and who I am. My words are sushi lover, dancer, Complex PTSD, movie buff, humanitarian, ‚̧ car trips, fiesty, writer, book lover and suicide survivor. It’s posted on the i_weigh movement page on Instagram founded by multi-talented actress Jameela Jamil.cropped-20180828_1017001.png Ms. Jamil herself battled anorexia as a teen and struggled with self image. She noticed and began questioning the distubing trend of what determines beauty messaging and how it has brainwashed our society. Why every magazine and commercial are always pushing the idea that only being thin was beautiful and desirable. She is quoted by saying,”I was bombarded with a narrative that had no alternative. There were never any women who were celebrated for their intellect … and all of my magazines were selling me weight loss products or telling me to be thin. Otherwise, I wasn’t worth anything.” In an effort to raise the middle finger to entire industries that are complicit in perpetuating these ideas she started the i_weigh movement. Proving we are all more than a mere number on the scale. I fell in love with it and messaged my picture to be included.

I started ballet when I was 2 and I continued to dance competitively into my teens. My passion for dance led me to want to become a professional someday. I studied ballet, tap, jazz, contemporary and modern from some of the best instructors and choreographers¬† in the dance world.¬† It became my life and my main focus. It also served as a catalyst for my eating disorder. I’m 5’2 and have been the same height since 7th grade. I was always told I was too small and I would never make it as a dancer. I didn’t have the long legs of a ballerina, I needed to lose weight (I didn’t), my skin is too olive(I’m Italian and Puerto Rican) and a list of other physical appearance critiques. I started restricting my food at the age of 13 or 14. I also abused laxatives, water pills and diet pills. I would spit into cups for hours before dance class in hopes of losing a pound, utterly ridiculous I know! At 16, I finally got fed up and lost my drive and self esteem about dancing. I quit and thought I would never take another class. Thankfully,¬† I rediscovered my love for dance as adult at 25 when my oldest son was 2. My new love is for tap and contemporary style classes. I have also enjoyed teaching little ones creative movement and beginner ballet but those are topics for another post.

My eating disorder however grew worse now that I wasn’t getting the extreme exercise from dancing daily for hours. I began an intensive workout routine and started running. The combination of restricting my food and my exercise routine bore behaviors that then turned me into an exercise anorexic. It was like a high, my newly discovered drug. I was able to control something because my home life was so chaotic and dysfunctional. My thinking became very obsessive and I was developing strange ideas about food. What I would eat and what I would avoid. It was a full time job mentally and utterly exhausting. Those patterns lasted on and off for years and I really didn’t confront it until five years ago. I have body dysmorphia as a result in addition to my many conditions and I still hold some of those beliefs that tell me I’m ugly in my core. I can absolutely agree with Ms. Jamil that negative body image is ruining people’s lives.

As a result of having my picture posted on i_weigh I met an extraordinary woman. She lives in Australia, we have never met in real life yet we have a kindered spirit bond like few are blessed to know. We have so much in common with our life experiences and we are both empaths. Currently we are trying to schedule a time to video chat with each other so we can “meet” face to face. I credit my new friend for inspiring me to get back to my writing and to share it online. She gives me so much support and artisitc suggestions.¬† I have even nicknamed her my pseudo creative director on this blog! Her spirit and soul are exquisitely beautiful. I look forward to our message chats because we uplift each other so much. We discuss anything and everything and I feel truly blessed to call her my friend.

Seven years ago during the height of my mental breakdowns and recovery after my suicide attempt, I was introduced to mirrorwork therapy. I stand in front of a mirror and tell myself¬† positive affirmations and I recite mantras. I know what you’re thinking, sounds weird right, talking to yourself in the mirror? I always say that I’m my own best audience and it’s a scientific fact that positive self talk is a sign of good mental health. At first I started to read off of the sticky notes that I had put up next to the mirror, I couldn’t even look at myself directly in the eye for awhile. Once I got more comfortable and with practice I can now stare right at myself and have an intimate conversation. The main two mantras I use are, I am a beautiful and capable woman. I am a child of God and I am loved. These are two statements I had the hardest time believing about myself especially after attempting suicide. Part of my therapy included examining my core beliefs, the things I tell myself and completely rewriting them. That tape we all have running through our minds constantly. At times we can carry our negatives thoughts and ideas about ourselves in an invisible but very real backpack. During my many years in therapy I have learned to stop the tape and take the backpack off.

Currently I’m on a therapy hiatus. I began taking part in therapy when I was seven years old. Mostly it was family therapy and sometimes it was individual. I have successfully completed a ton of different therapy programs over the last thirty years. That’s a lot of expressing and pain shedding and I’m to a point now that it has become uneccessary to continue on a regular basis. At the height of my time in therapy, I was seeing a DBT certified therapist four times a week. I have been in psychiatric hospitals over ten times and have completed numerous outpatient programs. I have been a member of different support groups with varying topics surrounding my mental health. I have read countless books about mental illness both non-fiction and fiction and listened to as many audio self-help books. I’m therapied out (I think I made that word up) and I need a darn break.

I used everything I have described here as my inspiration for this poem. Take notice of how I started describing my new Australian mate and then my subject morphed into discovering myself as my friend. It is hugely important to be friends with yourself. We are so loving and generous with our friends and at times we can be our own worst enemies and treat ourselves like dirt. The golden rule of treat everyone has you would like to be treated needs to also include, and especially yourself! We can all use that reminder sometimes!

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Mental health, Spirituality, Uncategorized

What’s real and me

I have a very discerning eye for genuineness. Society has been so impacted by social media and the 24 hour cycle of news we live in today. The desire to be famous and thirst for other people’s drama is driving our culture into questionable morality extremes. I’m also an intuitive empath and have instinctively been curious about the human condition. When I was going through many of my battles with C-PTSD, psychiatric hospitalizations, outpatient programs and self examinations I was always hinting for answers. Why am I like this? How can I get better? Will I ever feel “normal” again? I learned many helpful things about myself and gained so much insight into the human psyche. Here are some facts about me

1. I am a highly sensitive person and so much in life triggers me

2. Learning how to compartmentalize my thoughts has helped me immensely

3. Using visualization and meditation techniques keeps me grounded and present. The more I practice that the more automatic it becomes as my response to stressful situations.

4. I’m a free spirit and very open minded. I’m honest and trusting to a fault sometimes.

5. Balance and boundaries are two areas I struggle with, always a work in progress. I start my day with a Radical Acceptance mantra (my favorite DBT principle) reminding myself to be mindful of not only my actions and motives but those of others.

5. Learning and implementing DBT has changed my life in such a meaningful way. I am so grateful for Marsha Linehan, the creator of the behavioral modification therapy.

I hope to impart more pearls of wisdom that I have gathered on my journey with this blog. This poem is inspired by my feelings and musings on what’s real, truthful, honest and geniune. Contrasting with what’s fake, fraudulent, dishonest or a sham.