Here’s a snippet of what my head was telling me last night. I’m estimating that these thoughts all took place in about a five minute period:
Yesterday, I wrote a blog post on what not to say to a depressed/anxious/suicidal person, when they’re in the thick of things. I hope today’s post helps to give more insight into how people (like me,) think, even when we’re NOT in a deep depression. I hope it helps someone cope with their “loud” head.
When I get sad, I almost always feel scared and self-critical. It takes abundant, repeated practice of coping strategies for me to realize that I’m just sad and in actuality, okay. No matter, I can get pretty panicked by it.
Last night, I felt sad. Over the past year or so, when I feel sad I am oftentimes missing my former super energetic and enthusiastic approach to virtually everything. (Okay, I have never been enthusiastic about anything related to taxes or health insurance enrollment, but almost everything else.) I miss the “old me,” and when I’m sad, I usually feel my scars; both literally and figuratively and my worst self-critic emerges ruthlessly.
Before I realize I’m not in a deep depression, my head questions and criticizes a million things, real or imagined. It can be a mean place upstairs.
Here’s a snippet of what my head was telling me last night. I’m estimating that these thoughts all took place in about a five minute period:
Passover is traditionally a holiday that is shared with family and friends. I’ve attended Seders with more than 100 people in attendance.
Last night, I held a Seder for myself. Yep, just me. (I did set out a cup of bubbly, non-alcoholic water for Elijah, and even though I left my door open, he didn’t show up and hasn’t shown up yet. <– maybe because eventually, I had to lock the door?!)
To celebrate the first Seder of Passover, there are soooooooo many places I could have gone and been welcomed with open arms. Alternatively, I could have invited a few wayward Jewish and non-Jewish friends over to my home to share in my lil’ Seder. I did neither of those things…
Here’s why I had a Seder for One:
These days, I so rarely get any time to be by myself and last night, I just had to take advantage of the calm and quiet peace in our home. It was absolutely beautiful.
I did veeeeeeery minimal preparation (thanks to Max’s Deli,) and read through A Global Justice Haggadah with my furry friends beside me. I guess I wasn’t really alone because my pets, Erin, Kishke and Polly were all begging me for food. I could also feel the presence of my amazing grandma, Faye Lazar, as I do often and especially on every meaningful Jewish holiday. With every bite of matzo ball soup I slurped, I could feel my grandma judging because there was dill in the matzo balls which she would have seen as an absolute shanda!!!!!! “Dill in matzo balls?!?!?! Fish from a jar?!?!?!?!” Faye Lazar forgives my shortcuts and I’m sure G-d does too.
I did have a moment where I wondered if G-d was cool with how I was doing the first night of Passover this year. I’m pretty sure G-d was good with it and maybe even applauded it a little.
Whenever I try to figure out how I became such a stick in the mud, I am mindful to stop trying to figure it all out. One thing I have always liked about myself is that I haven’t spent much time pondering, why this or that happened to me.
Last May, for whatever reason, I started getting severe migraines at an alarming rate. Sure, I’d had migraines as a teenager but they were sporadic. I could take to the bed for a day and then, move on with my life. Last spring, it became completely different and nearly constant.
Now, I know that I’m not the only one who suffers from chronic migraines, but in the past, I thought, “Meh, it’s just a headache, so no big whoop. Suck it up.” One of my dearest childhood friends began suffering with chronic migraines as a child and she still suffers. It wasn’t until last spring that I truly understood the challenges my girlfriend was up against.
Migraines have mostly ruined the last year of my life. They’ve battled with my relationships, my ability to be at my best at work, at home and absolutely anywhere I happen to be, and therefore, my sense of identity and self-esteem took a big hit.
I haven’t wanted to address the truth about this, even to myself. I mean, seriously… it’s just headaches. “Take some aspirin and move on. There’s a freakin’ pandemic going on and I have no right to complain about anything!”
Of course, I have been working with a neurologist who I believe is the bees knees. I trust him implicitly. We’ve tried a slew of medications and procedures, most of which I cannot pronounce. Last week, in partnership with my neurologist, we embarked on a totally new regimen. So, I’m writing this today because I feel better and I want anyone who’s reading this to know there’s hope for chronic pain sufferers. I’ve had time and space without my head hurting and it feels like a miracle. I’m sharp, funny and loving; all of which I desperately needed to be reminded of. It’s eerie as to how much my chronic pain seemed to alter my identity. In my own painful head, I became so completely miserable, I thought I would die. (And sometimes, the pain was so bad, I felt like I wanted to die.) Today, I feel more “me-ish” than I’ve felt in almost a year. I am very grateful for it.
So, if my clear, pain-free head continues, great. If not, I will keep trying new things to try and help myself.
For chronic pain sufferers, I see you and love you exactly as you are. You may be feeling 100% unlovable, but it’s just a lie your pain is telling you.
It’s fully impossible for me not to notice AND acknowledge that when I reflect on my *smorgasbord of feelings over the past five months, it’s almost always associated with food. (see aforementioned reference to *smorgasbord)
Okay, it’s more than a casual food association. It may not even be “almost” always, but ALWAYS. My moods and feelings are like a vulnerable-loving-forgiving-physically-stagnant, casserole of emotions, covered in crispy french fried onions, located on an all-you-can-eat buffet of mostly unpredictable, hungry/foody/full feelings.
Buffet…Smorgasbord…Canteen…Chow Fest…FEELINGS.
It’s so interesting, because these days, I am generally peaceful. In many ways, I have never actually liked or loved myself (and others) more than while this pandemic has been going on. P. S. I am thinking about food right now… cheddar cheese on an egg bagel with honey mustard…
Okay, I’m back.
If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you’ll see that my daughter, Charlotte, has been baking and creating decadent treats on nearly a daily basis. A key fact is, I am not overindulging in her amazing culinary creations.
Bearing witness to Charlotte’s visionary process has helped me understand myself better. My imaginative and often funny thoughts of food – casseroles, carbs, KETO, vintage gelatinous “aspic-tacular” platters, buffets and canteens are all really healthy ways of coping with:
Missing people
Craving human touch
Concerns about money and being able to provide for my kids
My worry over other people’s health
Wearing pants inside out and backwards
Simply wearing pants
Wearing pants that, once fit and now feel like medical-grade compression wear
Seriously though… I’m not going to list everything. This is the last bullet point. You catch my drift.
Like you and most everyone, I’ve had to sit (long stretches) alone with myself. I never, ever forget that we’re collectively in this trauma together and not being alone, even though I’m physically alone sometimes, is incredibly comforting.
Also, even if I’m a little more than slightly flabby, I’m really not too shabby. I imagine the same is true for you.
So, even though I ate two dinners last night, (and thought of food even more), it’s not the end of the world. I mean, it doesn’t happen every night and in evaluating what transpired in that extra meal, one could say that I just had a really early breakfast. (Three hours after my original dinner.)
On a physical front, I KNOW I have to move my body more. I haven’t been too into “getting physical,” until I decided to start dancing at least 45 minutes per day.
Oh fine. I’ll move my tush.
Today, I danced for 90 minutes. As I moved my body, I thought about the aforementioned, vintage gelatinous “aspic-tacular” platter. I laughed as I danced, because the committee in my head was entertaining. It was hard to breathe, but I just kept going.
I even danced a “Can Can,” that I think seemed more like a “Can’t Can’t.”
But, it’s all okay. I mean, everything I mentioned in this post is okay.
Sure, I hope I eat only one dinner tonight. I pray that I’ll dance as hard tomorrow as I did today.
And all the while, I hope I can continue to laugh at and enjoy all of my food associations, my temporary flab and life on life’s terms in general.
I’m sending you so much love and virtual hugs. Please be gentle with yourself. You are a gift and very brave to be walking through this surreal time.
Stay safe and healthy. I hope we can have dinner together, (just one) soon.
I’m posting this again, not because the post below is so great, but because I hope anyone who feels sad, lonely, pissed off and/or fearful on Thanksgiving, to be reminded that:
You’re not alone
It will pass
Holidays come with stress, often veiled in “should-ing,” pressure and lots of carbs, sometimes topped with crispy fried onions.
I hope that if you do feel crappy on Thanksgiving, you don’t beat yourself up for feeling the way you do.
I’m sending you love and acceptance of wherever you are, exactly as you are.
This morning, the dogs woke me at butt o’clock, A.K.A. 4:20AM. I bundled up and took them for a long, slippery walk. It was crisp, dark and slightly foggy. I was moved to take photos because it was just so beautiful outside. I was grateful to my pups who forced me to be out and about in the quiet, without any cars or cares. After I snapped the photos, I put my camera away so I could be fully present for my walk. I tried to extend my freedom from thought or worry about anything in my day to day life. My brain, body and spirit are continuously seeking a breather no matter how brief it may be. Continue reading “Single Working Mom Seeks Understudy”
As I was flat ironing my teenage daughter’s hair before school this morning, she acknowledged the “HUGE” growth on my right cheek. I think her words were, “You’re right, Mom. That zit IS HUGE!” She said it as if surprised that my description (for once), was totally accurate and perhaps, even understated. I have lovingly named my blemish, “Mt. Hellonacheek.” Continue reading “Cuticles, clouds & creativity to the core”
Pamela Klier-Weidner (PKW) 