In case you were wondering...

  Hey y'all. 

Deep breath. I've found myself holding mine at times so sigh that shit out. 

Ok! I wanted to get real with y'all about where I stand on the pandemic these days and why that could even matter to you ("you" being people who want to know, and no hard feelings if you don't care). 

First off, I have fibromyalgia, which means I have chronic pain, chronic debilitating fatigue and a host of other symptoms that I won't go into. I also have a few other diagnoses that complicate things, but that's perhaps for another time. What you need to know is that I have been and will always be careful because if I catch Covid, it'll be twice as painful for me. That's how my illness works. A classic cold? I feel it twice as hard as I did when I wasn't chronically ill. 

What's more, my partner is immunocompromised. Before Covid, I've taken him to the hospital for simple things like a flu or food poisoning, unsure if he'd make it out. Most of us don't need hospitalization for flu or food poisoning but he has. So yes: I support vaccines and I'll be as careful as I can around Covid. My mom and stepdad are also in their 70s and both have health conditions that would make Covid or even the flu dangerous for them both. 

So. That's why I am careful. 

That's also why I can't stand nor tolerate staunch anti-vaxxers. Staunch anti-vaxxers are the result of fear, privilege, misinformation and wilful ignorance.  This blog isn't for those people. To you, I simply say: "Next!"

This blog is for those people who are partially vaccinated and perhaps confused about boosters, or angry or frustrated or exhausted about how the pandemic is being handled by our government and public health officials. I haven't been open to many conversations about vaccines and health care because I've been busy trying to survive, vigilant in keeping myself and my partner safe, keeping up with personal growth in healing trauma and antiracism education. I also have wanted to amplify the science of vaccines and the life saving benefits that the vaccine has afforded all of us. 

However, there are very valid concerns that a lot of you are having about health measures, lockdowns, government action or inaction and you have nowhere to put that concern. Some people reacted to their concerns by aligning with the freedom convoy; which, by the way, the convoy was never about truckers and never about freedom. It was about white nationalism. Period. Covid caused supply chain issues and inflation. Not vaccines or vaccine mandates. Almost 90% of the truckers are vaccinated and haven't been affected by mandates in the way the convoy has spun the narrative. 

But many people did NOT align with the convoy for white supremacy "freedom," and are simply exhausted, scared, and unsure what to do. Who can blame you? We've been told we all matter by the government, yet the most recent wave of omicron showed us that workers were expected to suck it up and go back to work without extra sick pay or support. We've been told that we're all in this together, yet vulnerable populations are still hit hardest by this virus. Those who identify as women or who have uteri, struggle with the implications of a vaccine and/or Covid itself on their cycles and on fertility. And we all know that health care loves to educate openly about women's health (enter sarcastic eye roll here). Small businesses that have NOT been high transmission locations were all but punished during subsequent lockdowns while big corporations and malls were privileged/prioritized over those small businesses. Mental and physical health were thrown out the window, even when the science said that it was ok to keep those spaces open in a smart, controlled way. It's frustrating as f*ck. There. I said it. 

So. What do you/we do about all of this? I know you feel powerless. We all have to some degree during this slog. I promise you, you're not powerless. If I can stay connected, engage in activism (petitions, amplifying advocates voices, calling campaigns, letter writing, email writing etc) than you can too. You also can work on owning your own emotions, practising self-compassion and grounding, and learning to be less reactive. What's more, there's information out there and people actually willing to listen about hesitancy and all of your concerns. 

For example, if you're women-identifying and worried about fertility or menstruation and the vaccine, check out Dr Jen Gunter on Instagram and her blog because she's a compassionate, badass ObGyn who has shared countless facts about the vaccine and health implications (hint, it's safe). Don't take my word for it though. Take hers, or better yet, the advice of someone else you trust. If you can't find someone, talk to a therapist (most are doing virtual appointments, which is super convenient!). Talk to a friend and make it your mission to search out sound, peer reviewed (scientific journals) on topics you're concerned about. 

If you're pissed about mandates, lockdowns, etc... get your typing fingers ready or arm yourself with a pen!! Write to YOUR ELECTED OFFICIALS to lobby for change you want to see. I cannot stress this enough.

It helps to also get clear about what's actually bugging you, take some deep, grounding breaths, engage who you think is appropriate (your mp, your MPP, etc), and rest when you need to. Rest is not a luxury: it's a necessity.

Hell, if we're friends, you can talk to me! I may not be able to physically do a lot these days but I can listen and talk (within reasonable limits, of course :). Fibro does rob me of energy in many ways, but I can text like a mothereffer.).

I'm not open to or tolerant of someone wanting to school me on how vaccines are gene therapy, or how the pandemic is a scam, or that my calling the convoy racist is me being "divisive." I got zero space and f*cks for that nonsense. Calling out racism isn't divisive: racism and white supremacy are divisive. (that's right: I underlined, italicized AND bolded that shit!)

Conversations between friends or acquaintances can be incredibly healing and a powerful agent of growth in the human spirit and psyche. I realize I may seem closed off to some of you who have concerns about vaccines or mandates because I've been both vocal about vaccines and hunkered down because of my husband's and my health issues. This is why I'm writing this blog. I want you to know that I want to see you and hear you. 

Let me level with y'all some more:

I'm tired of racists and racist apologists not being held accountable. 

I'm tired of feeling scared for my husband's life when i see people who I thought were decent subscribe to conspiracy theories and throw all scientific integrity and recommendations out the window. 

I'm tired for the vulnerable people who don't have access to basic needs, let alone health care and who are being ignored because some loud, idiotic voices are being privileged over theirs. This extends to health care workers who are being blocked, harassed, assaulted and terrorized when trying to do life-saving work.

I'm tired of BIR (Black, Indigenous and Racialized folks'), small businesses and women-identifying folks being squashed under the weight of racism, misogyny, corporate greed, and unfair working wages and environments. And, for not getting any reparations even when there was supposed to be government assistance. 

So I'm sure I'm not alone in those tired things. We're all exhausted, and while we may not fit into the exact same exhaustion topic boxes, we definitely have overlapping Venn diagrams! 

My invitation is to the following people: people who are struggling with genuine concerns about Covid and the vaccine, people who believe in health mandates but are frustrated with how they're being created and implemented, people exhausted from racism and white supremacy, and people who are exhausted from being scared all the time of this virus.. I'm here. Not 24/7 because I've gotta take care of my own sanity and health (chronic illness is a full time job). But hit up my DMS or text me. Check out Dr. Jen Gunter if you're curious about women's issues and the vaccine (or women's health in general!). Read sound studies. Talk to someone you trust. Ground. All throughout the day. 

That's what we'll end on: let's ground together. This is something you can do multiple times throughout the day, and I HIGHLY encourage you to. 

• Whether you're sitting, standing, in a wheel chair or lying down, focus on your feet. 
• Breathing in through the nose, out through the mouth, imagine roots growing from the feet into the ground, through floors, foundation, the earth, the crust. 
• Keep breathing, in through the nose out through the mouth. 
• As you imagine these roots growing longer and farther down, they're growing stronger. 
• You are growing stronger. 
• Keep breathing. When the mind wanders (and it will :)), gently refocus on the breath. 
• Clench the hands into fists a couple of times and release.
• Take another yummy breath and voila! 

Thank you for listening/reading, and for being you. Stay safe and warm, folks. 

Moving on, vs Moving with

holistically: emotional

I've got skills. Maybe not Liam Neeson-level skills, but I have some useful ones. I have skills and knowledge that assist me with helping others. This same skillset supposedly helps myself, too. If someone wants help with breathing techniques when they feel anxious? I know how to find helpful tools. If someone's feeling squirrelly after something huge and upsetting? I know how to normalize what they're feeling (because other people feel those huge, earth-shaking emotions, too in the face of trauma).

If you're a helping professional and/or work in the human services, do you ever have trouble reconciling your own knowledge with what you're feeling? As in, "my rational, professional knowledge base tells me that it is normal to feel [enter emotion here] based on this situation. Why did this hit me so hard, then? I knew it was coming?!" Oh yeah. Helping professional or not: we're all human. That's why. Doh!

Life has been quite the learning experience lately during my schooling while I'm recovering from grief. And other loss, too. Loss from long ago, loss of parts of my identity, and loss due to a couple life changes. I've had incredible supports, and I'm ok most of the time. Even when I'm shaken or raw, I'm still ok, just less so. Life has been a rollercoaster in learning how to live it in a new context (school) that's somewhat familiar (I've been in school before) but altogether different for me, as I'm a different person this time around.

Let me turn the lens to something else for a moment: there exists copious literature on how to process and deal with grief (and a plethora of other upsetting issues). Just do a Google search (though I warn you of the quality of some articles....................) Seek professional help when possible or at least professional advice to suss out the dross from the actually helpful.

However, there also exists an overarching pressure to "get over" or to "move on" from these upsetting things. Sure, you can ugly cry RIGHT AFTER you lose someone, but what about 2 months down the road? 1 year? 2 years? 10 years?

As a helping professional, I'd tell you: "ugly cry all you want. In fact, let's simply call it crying. It's normal and actually potentially healing to cry (hard or not) when you feel like crap."

As a human in North America, I would feel embarrassed, ashamed, and "crazy" for crying hard over a loss that happened more than a couple months ago. Why, though?

There's the crux of the issue: sure, you're ok to be stuck in pain right after a loss, but when the rest of the world around you has "moved on," it's assumed that you have, too. Most of us know, however, that that's bullshit.

I'd like to offer an alternative discourse: a discourse of moving with. With whom, might you ask? The person you've lost. Carry them with you. A friend of mine reminded me of something I knew in the dark, dusty corners of my brain but had forgotten: the importance of ritual and honouring a lost loved one. Do this.

If the loss was complicated, however, ignore what I just said and seek some professional help in aiding you with your maelstrom of feelings. That's a topic for another time. Grief is messy. Complicated grief is even messier. They're not on a hierarchy, really, but are more like apples and oranges in a fruit basket of pain. Grief (the apple) is difficult to crunch and digest, but there's a relatively expected/known method to eating and processing the fruit. Complicated grief (the orange) can explode, sting your lips if your skin is dried out, it doesn't open properly if the peel is on there too damn tightly, and it can surprise you with crunchy seeds when you least expect it. It takes forever to peel and eat an orange most of the time, doesn't it (if it doesn't for you, then think of another complicated fruit....pomegranate maybe?).

Again, that's a topic for another time.

If you've lost someone you deeply cared for, do your best to dissipate the pressures of getting over it when it seems everyone else has. I'd argue that "everyone else" likely hasn't completely, either, even if it seems like it. Honour your feelings. Cry your heart out when you need to. Bring your loved one along in your proverbial pocket to the good times and bad times ahead. If there are celebrations coming up that meant a lot for you and that loved one, do something to remember them. Light a candle, eat a cookie or candy they liked (thanks my friend for that suggestion), pray to them, write about them, go play a game outside (basketball? soccer? wall-ball?) or go for a walk. The options are endless but need to be meaningful to you.

Take your time. As familiar as an apple is, it can still surprise you. Has anyone ever found a worm in theirs before? I haven't. Happened with a peach once, though. That was unfortunate. I digress. Even if the apple is something you know about, you still need to take your time. It sucks to get apple chunks lodged in your throat, so chew it slowly, process it bit by bit--however long that takes. But, here's the parallel challenge: live your damn life.

It'll feel awkward and painful to be happy or content sometimes. That's normal. It's also imperative, then, to enjoy moments, occasions, rise up to challenges life hands you WITH THE OTHER PERSON. Bring them along. You can't leave them at home, or at the grave, or in the dark recesses of your mind where your skeletons hide with dust and cobwebs building up. They'll haunt you (they probably hate cobwebs as much as you do). Bring them into the daylight with you. Carry them in your heart. Acknowledge their presence and live your life.

Easier said than done, but in truth: we're all in this together. We don't leave a soldier behind, right? We've got to carry each other, in life or in death, because a person's impact does not extinguish in physical death. It simply changes. Move with that person in your life: don't move on.

Where is she?

holistically: holistic

I look for her. Sometimes unconsciously. My heart's muscle memory grabs for her when a familiar song comes on, I watch a movie, I go somewhere, I see a certain colour or hear a certain sound... you get the picture. The triggers can be subtle, the triggers can be obvious, or they can be random as... well... random. When I can't find my best friend and the realization settles in like poison that she's not coming back, I droop. I get numb. I ache. I feel lost.

I know that feeling well and if you've ever lost someone, you may have felt it, too. When my father died it was the same thing: lumbering around life, looking for him, looking for a shred of his presence to ease my pain.

Within the feeling of being lost more recently, came a realization: I'm not only looking for her and for my father, I'm looking for me. I'm trying to find who I was and who I am now that all of this has happened.

The notion of searching for oneself sounds cliché but that's because it's common. We want to feel whole. We want to feel as though we know ourselves best and be confident in who that is. The problem is that we don't want to do the work just yet. In pain it becomes difficult to muster strength to change or assimilate new information. Basic tasks have to be relearned anyway and that seems to be where most energy goes after a loss.

That said, if you find a shred of hope or light, your gaze can shift toward the light. Yes, we can also start looking in darker places. It's ok to dabble sometimes as long as you don't stay there. In terms of the lighter side of things, I turned to the usual suspects the most (friends, family, my cats). Or my bed. Lately, however, I've turned to podcasts.

The podcast journey started because of my genius, beautiful sister-in-law. Instead of jamming out to tunes in the car, she and her husband listen to an incredibly engaging podcast called Serial. You can listen to this podcast on whatever app you desire (both Apple and Android stores should have a compatible app). I use CastBox (http://castbox.fm/).

Being me, I eagerly began subscribing to any and every podcast that tickled my fancy. Plenty of podcasts exist for everything from self-help to learning French to Science to Serial's uncanny ability to plunge you into the vortex of a single case's every winding, curvy detail for a season.

One podcast took me by surprise. Sure, I support happy, rainbow-filled literature, websites, discussions, etc. However, most of the time, I crave something more real and down to earth. Hence, when I subscribed to Vibrant Happy Women, I had my doubts but a part of me craved the sunshine that the title promised. Well, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. It's better.

Each episode focuses on a woman who has been through some shit. I believe the first one I listened to featured a mom from the Sandy Hook incident back in 2012. Her humanity astounded me. I was humbled, inspired, and dumbfounded by her forgiving, beautiful perspective on the world. I ended that podcast feeling that if she could forgive and see things in a new light, then why can't I?!

Another episode featured a woman who struggled with depression and anxiety. Now that is something all too many of us can identify with. Again, I felt humbled, inspired, and wanted to shift my thinking on my own life.

I've listened to about 15 episodes now. All feature different women who have gone through different plights of varying magnitudes and their transformations have been anywhere from subtle to ginormous. The captain of the podcast ship is Jen Riday. She's a life coach and a calming, warm presence. A magnificent force and woman herself, she curates other magnificent women to show us that we're all so different and so much the same.

So what the hell have I found on this podcast journey? Myself. Not a whole being or formula or graph that denotes specific qualities and emotions, but humble truths that have always been there but have been in hiding.

The first truth: we've ALL gone through something that we found difficult and/or are still going through it. Be kind--to yourself and to others. It's easier than you think.

The second and perhaps most important truth: you have to help yourself before you can help others.

Every woman on Jen's show is asked what some of their favourite quotes are, what they've been through, how they've come out of it, and what advice would they give to others. The main answer to the advice question was answered in a few ways, but a couple of note are the airplane analogy (put your own oxygen mask on first), or simply that you need to take care of yourself before and in order to take care of others. I addressed this issue in a previous post, "Physician: Heal Thyself." I believed the notion when I wrote it, but I didn't quite grasp that I could do it myself until I started hearing other women talk about it.

That's a paradox, I know: relying on other women to tell me I can do something that's supposed to be self-driving. Well, it's true. Because of these women I've only ever heard and never seen, I started to realize that I only have to look two places in order to help and find myself: to other people, and in the mirror. I feel so different and inadequate compared to others sometimes, until I hear their vulnerability and strength. I hear a voice inside me that says "Yes! I've felt that way!" or "OMG you do that TOO?!" I feel connected to something deeper than lil' ol' me.

When I look in the mirror, I start to see me. I start to see that I have some of the qualities these women have: resilience, vulnerability, strength, fallibility, and humanity. Sure, I can strive for other things throughout my life but those are more material or superficial goals. We certainly get wrapped up in those material goals: lose weight, be physically stronger, read a thousand books, be an early morning person and a social butterfly, know all the things, etc. The qualities (resilience, vulnerability, etc.) I mentioned before these material things are timeless and priceless.

Resilience is not something you can achieve through a 30 day program or a Facebook group challenge. It's inherent in all of us and is stoked when we're tested by life's trials. It's there. All you have to do is look back when you've struggled. If you're still alive, then you were resilient. Cut yourself some damn slack.

All you have to do is look in the mirror and realize that you have what it takes because you are you. I have what it takes to thrive because I am me. The people I lost loved me (thank God for that!). That love stemmed from a connection and recognition of similar qualities in each other. Take a moment and think about why you love certain people in your life. I bet you can come up with a few common qualities between them and lil' ol' you.

So maybe love yourself a little bit more. Cut yourself some slack. It's ok to look for yourself sometimes, but I challenge you to find yourself sometimes, too.

The perfectly imperfect

holistically: emotional, social

There's been a theme here since March: loss, grieving, and dealing with pain. I promise there's growth in here, hope, and some reassurance!

So. After going through some photos of my best friend who passed away and me, I saw a comment from my dear friend's mom (she's basically an aunt to me) that said "perfect friendship." Queue emotional tidal wave of appreciation and love to my friend and her momma. 

It got me thinking. About what? Glad you asked.

Death has a twisted way of adding to the pain of loss by ailing us with thoughts of guilt, regret, what ifs, and a sense that somehow we screwed up by not being or doing more. I've thought of many moments, conversations, unspoken words that make me ache with all the thoughts I've mentioned above. 

Our friendship was not perfect in the sense that it was not without its struggles. While we didn't fight or backstab each other, we had our issues, tensions, and what we euphemistically called "discussions." Our affection, bond, and sisterly love transcended formality and normal convention, though and transcended any struggle we came across. And that, my friends, is what made my friendship with her perfect (in a deeper, more meaningful sense).

When she passed, I was pissed off. I still am, but the bubbling rage has subsided (for now). I was also livid and tormented by comments made by people who meant well but had a tendency to diminish our deep relationship into something so futile and meaningless. I won't go into detail, but when people don't have a comfort level in how to deal with grief, they can say some things that are well-intentioned but naive. Comments that made it sound like I was doing her a favour by being her friend. Or that it was lucky she didn't have "insert terminal illness here." 

I've thought long and hard on these two sentiments and here's the thing: they're not ok because they diminish her immense impact on all our lives---her extreme importance in her relationships with each person grieving her loss. One death is not worse than the other, no matter the cause. The pain felt by those who are grieving cannot be measured by how long the deceased was suffering due to an illness, nor if the person was murdered, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, or another cause. The bottom line in this case is that her entire family, squad, loved ones, friends all lost her so suddenly that it knocked the breath out of us so that we lost some of our own lifeforce, too. A piece of us will always be missing now. It didn't matter how it happened, just that it did happen.

Picture a photograph of you with your best friend. Now picture that an invisible hand just picks up your friend and poof! She's gone. That dumbfoundedness that you feel? yeah. That's accurate. But I digress.

Onto the next point of the whole "favour" thing. Ready for a truthbomb? She saved my life so many times that I can't count. True friendship is a two-way street filled with give and take. We leaned on each other all the time. We had our tensions here and there, yes, but we respected each other enough to discuss things and do a little thing required in all effective relationships: communicate. Friendship is no favour: it's a gift that two people choose to honour and nurture together. She did me the favour, folks. She opened her (huge) heart to me and let me in. That is the ultimate gift and favour.

Ranting aside, despite how my thoughts may wander and start doubting if I was a good friend or not, if I could have been there more, etc., I am so bloody grateful for our friendship. Rather, our "sistership." We chose each other. I'll be forever grateful to God (or whatever power you believe in) for putting us on this planet together. I have incredible memories with her! I've met incredible people because of her! Her family inspires me to hold on to my own family and never let go because life is truly short. Cliche, yes, but there's truth to that one.

No matter why or how someone passes away, I hope that you feel able to embrace your pain, emotions, and get the support you deserve to deal with something so immense.

What's more, I hope you can step back and remember the good memories with that person. While it may seem counterintuitive, there's perfection in our flaws and our ability to deal with growing pains and joys in a friendship. There's perfection in a love that is so strong it made family out of strangers. 

So, yes: our friendship is perfect because it's human, full of love, and will endure whatever time throws our way.

What relationships are perfectly imperfect in your lives? :) 

The "S" Word

holistically: emotional

Suicide is a scary subject, right? It's one of things that is so taboo in our society. There are misconceptions about suicide, too. For one, people seem to think that talking about it makes it more likely to happen for someone; as if by mentioning suicide to someone with suicidal thoughts, then you'll be encouraging them to do it. You'll plant a seed and help it grow resulting in an attempt to suicide.

That's not true. Period.

You see, people who have suicidal thoughts think of suicide as a giant, murderous elephant in the room. It's there, it wants to literally kill them, they don't feel comfortable talking about it, but they wish they could scream about it. Whenever I brought suicide up with clients, there was a palpable exhale of relief from them. By my naming their fear and bringing up the one thing that's on their mind but not on their tongue, the murderous elephant became Snuffleupagus: awkward and not sure why it exists, but at least he isn't trying to kill you at the moment.

I've been to two training sessions on how to recognize suicidal tendencies in others and how to help people in various circumstances. The second session was akin to Suicide First Aid. Before the training, I remember that I was terrified about talking to people about suicide, how the hell I would deal with it, and what would it feel like to have someone's greatest pain tossed into my hands. Once I learned what I could, and more importantly once I learned about who gets these kinds of thoughts, it became scary for a different reason.

It became scary because I almost got used to talking about it. There were so many people I came across in my work experience with suicidal thoughts. And, just as often as those who display "typical" risk factors, were those who seemed completely "normal."

Suicidal thoughts do not indicate a definite risk of suiciding.

SIDENOTE: it's considered more compassionate to say "suicide" instead of "commit suicide," as it's not a crime anymore. In addition, saying someone "committed" suicide places more stigma on the issue. There's enough stigma on it already.

A great example of how thoughts don't always equal action can be found in this awesome article, entitled What's the difference between suicidal thoughts and actions? One mom explains.

Which brings me to the next tidbit of this wordfest.

I have so much to be thankful for: life, an incredible husband, family, friends, a decent house, two little furbabies, financial support, and so many "things" (a lot of which I probably don't "need" but I digress). All of that makes what I'm about to share that much more painful and enraging (to me). I get the "s-word" thoughts, too. I had them when I was younger (in high school), and they've poked at me for years since. There are obvious triggers (loss being the biggest one), but sometimes it's simply part and parcel of my depression. Those are fun days: feeling sad and suicidal for "no reason" except that my brain is depressed.

I'm ok. Let's get that out of the way--just as the mom says in the article, I am ok. I'm telling you this because if there are any of you out there thinking/saying "OMG ME TOO!", I want to give you the chance to exhale some relief. Of course, let me scream from my side of the universe that if you EVER feel unsafe or in crisis, call a crisis line. Do it. In London, the Crisis Line is through CMHA 519-433-2023, located on 648 Huron St., London, ON (http://cmhamiddlesex.ca/crisis-services/). The Crisis Line also has a mobile outreach unit. And, there's always 911.

It sucks to be in crisis, but it also sucks to feel any of these feelings or think any of these thoughts. Journal, talk to someone, and dare I say it? Try counselling. I'm not saying to commit yourself to a life full of therapy if you don't want to, but consider talking to someone about these thoughts. Honestly, the biggest and most profound nugget that comes from counselling is validation. I've experienced it myself, and I've had the honour to provide it for others. It's so basic, but so incredibly profound: to feel like your feelings and thoughts are based in something real, that you're not a different species, and that you're human.

Again, if counselling isn't your jam right now, there are other phone lines (Distress Centre 519-667-6711, Good2Talk 1-866-925-5454 if you're in school, Kids Help Phone 1-800-668-6868). Or, there's paper, computers, and friends. It's scary, it's humbling, but the world needs you, so take a chance.

As for the training side of things, these are the rockstars who put on the two training sessions I did (SafeTALK and ASIST): The London Middlesex Suicide Prevention Council and LifeWorks. I would encourage anyone to take SafeTALK as it's accessible, a briefer length, and usable by everyone. ASIST is more geared towards helping professionals, is more intense, but would be amazing if everyone could do it :).  Again, the ASIST training is truly more Suicide First Aid. Invaluable stuff. Both training programs help create a safer community. Who doesn't want that???

I am so thankful for the people in my life. They've been pillars, holding me up when I have felt like I was going to fall down or deserved to fall down. They relentlessly remind me that I do deserve to live and thrive, even when I wake up thinking the world would be better off if...And the experiences I've had: they've given me the resources to help myself and others.

I'm ok. If you're not, please talk to someone. Name that elephant, because you could turn it from a demonic, laser-eyed beast into Snuffleupagus. And who could be scared of Snuffleupagus????



(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/80/Snuffy31.jpg)

Physician: heal thyself

holistically: holistic :)

I'm sure you've heard the saying in the title before. What do physicians do? Heal others. What do they need to do before they heal others? Heal themselves. 

The same goes for any helping professionals. Doctors, social workers (ahem!), counsellors, front-line workers, help desk employees, customer service, etc. etc. etc.: you're all in need of helping yourself first. There's another saying I'd like to throw into the mix: "an empty cup cannot fill another." It certainly goes along the same vein in that you cannot help other before you have helped yourself. If you are exhausted, drained, feeling like absolute crap, you may not be able to help someone who's rowing in the same boat.

Here's the thing: I'm exhausted. In regard to writing, I'm facing this paradox of having tonnes of content in my head but not wanting to write a word. I'd be a hypocrite if I forced myself to write when I'm really not feeling like it. After much thought, the desire built up to put words to.. screen.

I know some incredible people in my life, and they inspired me to write this. I'm no expert, but I want to lend some support and advice to those who are open to it. I know what it feels like to be on empty yet to feel pressure to perform and help others because it's "what you do." It's a nasty cycle to be in, and if you find yourself in that cycle, I hope this helps.

You may find yourself able to relate to the following situations. So, for any of you reading this, whether you're in one of the situations or not, CUT YOURSELF SOME SLACK. Take a break. You may not have time to take a full-on vacation or something, but take a small mental break, and take it as often as you can. Life won't stop for you but you can stop the spiraling downward motion of hamster-wheeling it without taking any time/space for yourself.

So here's to:
-Parents: of children and/or expecting children
-People unhappy in their jobs
-People stressed out about their jobs (whether they like the jobs or not)
-People unsure of their life purpose/path
-People who are grieving
-People who have given up something huge or made a big change
-People living life (i.e. life is simply stressful sometimes)

Most of us do care for others, whether or not in a professional capacity. No matter how you care for others, you do need to take care of yourself. There's no weakness in that nor is it selfish. If you burn yourself out, you will be unable to do a damn thing for yourself, let alone for others in your life.

What kinds of mental breaks can you take?
1) A short walk -- nature helps calm everything down... unless it's hailing or tornado-ing... stay inside in those cases
2) A few belly breaths
3) A quick meditation (guided or not), through apps like Headspace or Calm -- these are available on Android devices and Apple, I believe
4) Talk to a friend or family member (most of us are lucky to have someone we can tell anything to--if you don't, consider talking to a counsellor....it's not scary, I promise...even if you're a counsellor yourself :))
5) Play a video game
6) Play a mental health game masked as a regular video game called Superbetter
7) Make some tea, have some coconut water, make some hot chocolate, or eat something delicious (Nutellaaaaaaaaaa)
8) Do a body scan (start with sitting comfortably, and bring awareness to each part of your body...you may feel silly at first but this is a deceptively effective technique to help you relax)
9) SAY NO: I have trouble with this one, but you're going to disappoint people in your life, so get used to it. Say no to things you don't want to do. Most of the time, you'll feel better. I promise.
10) Hug a furbaby. Or a stuffed animal. or a tree, or a reptile if you prefer reptiles.

HUGS EVERYONE.

Grief

holistically: emotional
and everything else

Have you seen the movie Homeward Bound? If you have, good on you. If you haven't, then I suggest you either watch it or continue under the warning that there are some spoilers. You were warned.
You were.

Remember the scene where Shadow gets stuck in that awful mud hole? He whimpers and paws frantically to get out of it while his companions try to help him, but he falls clumsily back into the mire for what seems like forever?

That's grief.

You paw and claw out of the muck and mire but you slide back down and fall on your ass. Yup. It's messy, unpredictable, but you know it's a tough mothertrucker to get out of. There is no formula, rhyme or reason.Your friends and family worry about you getting out and try wonderful and sometimes silly things to help you out. Or they're in there with you, fighting the (not so) good fight.  If they're on the outside, they'll shout suggestions, commands, encouragements, declarations of love, concern, sometimes even anger... "GET OUT!" "YOU CAN DO IT!" "KEEP TRYING!"

In case you hadn't guessed or don't know me, I'm currently grieving. I've been through this before, as many of you have, but I'm an adult this time around. The difference between then and now? Swearwords and alcohol are available (allowed).

My first dance with grief started when I was 7 years old. I've grown older since then and hopefully somewhat wiser. However, grief doesn't give a shit. It throws you into a pit and makes you feel like that scared, helpless 7 year old (except with a bottle of tequila in your grasp). The mud starts to dry up with each happy moment or memory, and you think you have enough traction to climb out. Sadness creeps in and starts to make it rain. Bye bye traction. Or maybe anger sweeps in, makes it pour, makes it rain ice pellets that you can't escape from. All you can do is sit or stand there and scream. You're not getting out today.

Then the happy memories come back... the hope. Whether or not the sun comes out, it has at least stopped raining long enough to catch your breath. You don't quite feel like "you" yet, but you don't feel like a worthless piece of shit, either.

I don't know if you remember in the movie, but Shadow makes it out. How? No idea. Some may say it got dry enough for him to climb, others may say a stick or board was there that helped him, still others may say "dog magic" or "who cares?!". The point is, he made it out (much to his family's joyous relief). Shadow survived.

Ironic name, really: Shadow. Grief does stick with you once you're out of the pit like a shadow. But I digress.

Shadow climbed out of the pit. You can climb out of grief.

Unfortunately, as this isn't the world of voice-over animals who survive amazing (impossible?) odds, there won't be a music cue or time limit on a film reel to tell you when you'll get out of the pit. The "when" isn't the point, actually. "If" is the point.

Will you make it out?

For those of you who've been through loss and grief, you clearly made it out. Even if you're still muddy years after, you made it out. So did I. Let's not analyze our performance too much, ok? Let's just give this a pass/fail. We're alive. That's a pass!

I'll climb out of this one. One day [insert emo face here]

In case you hadn't noticed, I also use humour as a coping mechanism.

Carrying on: being an adult is simultaneously helpful and maddening for dealing with grief. It's helpful in the ways I've already mentioned (larger vocabulary and access to sweet sweet scotch), but maddening in that your logic can name all the feelings you're going through and the stages of grief, but it matters ZERO PERCENT. Your feelings certainly don't give a shit. They hit, smack, kick, tickle, slap, punch, and stab you whenever they want, however they want, and for however long they want. You can name them all you want: it won't matter. They're still comin'.

This is normal. Remember that.

So what do you do to avoid grief? You don't. Sorry.

But you can do something radical once you're in the pit. Be kind to yourself. Feel the feelings. Take it hour by hour or minute by minute if you have to. Yes, the pain can be strong enough to make you want to do horrible things or numb up and waste away. Like phobias, the best way to deal with grief is to feel it and face it. It sucks. I'm not going to sugarcoat that. As for your onlookers, cheering squad, mockers, whoever: pay attention to the ones who love you and who you love. These are the ones who "get it." They likely have been through grief before, too. They don't make your pain about them or your grieving process about them. It's your ass in the pit: not theirs.

There will be those people who give you hope through it all, which will feel impossible until you feel them near. I hope you experience this if you have to go through this at all. They're earth angels. They'll be there for you no matter how messy you get. Chances are, they've been where you are. They'll let you be who you are, feel what you feel, and only interfere when you start digging yourself into a dangerous place from which you may not return.

Listen to those people.

There will be people who mean well but who don't know how to deal with other people in pain. That's their cross to bear: not yours. This doesn't make them bad or wrong; it simply means that you don't need to expend what little energy you'll have on them. That's ok.

You'll make it out. Keep going. Climb. Or just sit and bark a lot until you get bored, the music in your head swells like the ending of a movie, and you magic your way to higher ground. I won't judge. My cats are sometimes my greatest therapists, so really. I can't judge.

Good luck to you. I'm done pawing at the muddy walls for the day. Time for a break before I go at 'er again tomorrow.