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Archive for the ‘mental health’ Category

Everyone has hobbies, right? We need hobbies to explore our passions, to relax, to stay sane in a crazy world. Normal ones, weird ones, who cares? As long as your hobby doesn’t hurt anyone or anything, they’re fine. My hobbies include writing (duh), reading, history, theatre, music, travel. sewing/crochet, running, my garden (when it’s not a million degrees outside), and learning about the supernatural. It’s safe to say that I have a lot of interests and that I’m always busy.

Now, you may look at one or more of my hobbies and wonder why the heck I’m interested in that. Maybe, God forbid, history bored you to tears as a kid or the thought of running anywhere makes you anxious. Whatever the reason, you probably don’t share all of my interests and that’s okay. Life would be boring if we all liked the same things.

A hobby that I have trouble understanding is maintaining the perfect lawn. I just don’t get it. My lawn is green and made up of a lot of different things: clover, dandelions, a bit of grass, and some other unidentifiable stuff. I mow it once it week and that’s the extent of my lawn care. Some of my neighbors have beautiful meticulous lawns and they spend a lot of time and care to make them look that way, but I can’t see myself doing that.

Another hobby I don’t get is watching sports. My husband and sons love to watch football and baseball throughout the year. I would rather watch paint dry, unless it’s an important U of M game. Then, it’s a matter of principle. They love it when I have rehearsal because that means they can watch whatever game is on that night. It’s just not my thing.

So, what are some hobbies that you could not see yourself doing? Rock climbing? Skydiving? Fishing? Now I don’t mean things that harm others or the environment, just ordinary hobbies that you are most definitely not interested in. Don’t be shy, put it in the comments.

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So, I wrote this article and it got published!!!

Here it is: https://introvertdear.com/news/yes-introverts-can-be-actors/

For those who don’t know, Introvert Dear is a site geared toward introverts. They publish articles on a variety of related topics. Mine just happens to be about being an introverted actor.

I hope you enjoy it and the other wonderful articles on the site. Spend some time there; I do.

 

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I’ll be completely honest: I hate the idea of getting older. I am not at all comfortable with my number as it continues to go up..

Before this goes any further, I am fully aware of how lucky I am to be able to get older. I know that people have terminal and debilitating conditions and I count myself as fortunate to not have gone through that as of now. I understand that there are people who are sensitive to this topic, but this blog is about dealing with the feelings and emotions that come with transitioning into this new territory because they exist and are valid, so no comments on how I should feel lucky to be getting older, please. I’m not whining, just processing. (But I will be wine-ing, later, at an acceptable hour. See what I did there?)

At 44 (yeep!) I feel better than I ever have; I’m healthier, mentally and physically, than I’ve ever been in my life. I (mostly) eat healthy and exercise almost every day. I’ve been seeing my therapist for around eight years now, which has done wonders for helping me with depression, anxiety, and my past. I’m deliriously happy in my marriage. While I’m not even close to knowing it all, I’m much more comfortable in understanding that that’s okay. But for the first time, I’m worried about this getting older thing. It isn’t so much about how I will look, although I admit that does bother me. I do my best to stay in shape, to eat right, drink a lot of water, and I use my moisturizer every morning and night, the way my grandma taught me, but I know that physical changes are inevitable. I do intend on fighting that particular aspect every step of the way.

What I will eventually look like isn’t what bothers me the most, though. What gets my stomach churning is the thought of being seen as less of a person because I will be old. I fear the perception that I will be feeble, the loss of control in my life, the lack of respect from younger people who won’t think I’m “with it”, the impatience of those around me. I’m afraid I won’t recognize that I’m not capable of doing things anymore, like driving. (Although, if my evil plan works and we move to London, I won’t need to drive anywhere, eliminating that painful milestone.)

For the record, I fully intend on being an independent, bad-ass, older person complete with tattoos, but I also know that an accident or disease could take that choice away from me in an instant. I’m also downright terrified of having dementia or Alzheimer’s. It was painful to watch both of my grandmothers decline mentally and physically. I’m sure it was loads more painful for them to go through: the confusion of the disease and the understanding in their lucid moments must have been terrifying. I’m hoping to escape their fate and doing everything I can to ward off those demons: puzzles of all sorts, reading, exercising, and drinking my red wine faithfully. (Don’t laugh, there are tons of articles on red wine preventing dementia. Who am I to discount research?)

I know that this is a long way off yet, but I see signs. There are fine lines forming when I look in the mirror. I have two adult children, one who is living completely on his own, with a teenager close behind. I remember things that happened twenty years ago like they happened yesterday. I actually need reading glasses now, which really sucks. I had been prescribed glasses for years, but I’ve only recently noticed a big difference. Marty thinks this is funny. Me, not so much. Certain theatre roles would be a bit ridiculous for me now, which makes me sad.

BUT… I saw a post today from a friend who’s only a bit older than I am and she was absolutely embracing the idea of getting older. It was about the freedom to be yourself, having less of a filter, and being comfortable in one’s body. I want to feel that way, I want to get there mentally. I’m not there yet, but I’m working on it. My therapist says to not dwell on things that haven’t happened yet and might not ever happen. The key is thinking positively and planning for what you want to happen. There is a 103-year-old woman who still runs competitively and was on the news a couple of weeks ago. I’m aiming for that.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to do all of things that I’ve been doing not only because it will combat the bad aging stuff, but also because it’s fun.

That includes the red wine. Obviously.

Salute!

Red Wine

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Do you want to know one of my favorite things?  It had been blah-cloudy all day. You know what I mean, cloudy and muggy with no good reason. Seriously, it’s a real downer and I spent a lot of this afternoon trying to get motivated to do something.

So, after watching Jeopardy, I made myself go out side to do something and saw the pile of branches I’d been meaning to cut up all week. Not my favorite thing, but it had to be done. Awesome.

I was outside for maybe half an hour, which encompassed not only cutting branches, but a petting session with one of my favorite neighbor kitties, the wind suddenly picked up with a purpose. All of the little hairs that had worked loose from my braid suddenly stood straight up in the rush and there was a note of change in the air. It was exciting, exhilarating. I could smell the rain, but it didn’t arrive for a good ten minutes after it began announcing its arrival. I continued cutting dead branches, just enjoying the feel of the wind with a purpose running through my hair.

It was a wind of change, a wind with a job to do.

I felt joy.

Suddenly, the day that had been somewhat boring weather-wise (I did get some good reading and writing in) was now exciting and unpredictable. I stayed out as the first few sprinkles fell and didn’t go inside until it was a semi-decent rain.

Life is beautiful sometimes, God gives you these little gifts. You just have to be open to find the joy and I need to learn this more than anyone.

Many thanks for the joy of the wind tonight.

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There are five school day wake-ups left this year. I am not sad.

This has been a rough year for behavior. My own students’ behavior has improved greatly over the year, this has been a goal, but they’re still not where they need to be. We’ve been working on basic things all year long, like being respectful, not putting hands on other people, and raising hands when there is a question as opposed to just shouting things out. The exception is my first hour. They’re pretty awesome, for the most part. Of course, there are many great kids in my other classes, it’s just an uneven ratio this year and I’m exhausted. Not from the teaching, you understand, from everything else.

The students who aren’t mine, who pass in the hallway, enough of them are ridiculous enough to mentally drain me almost every day. You would not believe what happens in the hallways of a middle school sometimes.

Seriously, this is the most difficult job I’ve ever had, and I’ve been through a few since I started babysitting at eleven years old. Babysitter, waitress, hostess, retail worker, historical presenter (on a historic farm), carriage driver, educational programs presenter, and administrative assistant, just to name a few. Those people who think we have it easy because we have a few weeks off in the summer (when we attend workshops, trainings, and mandatory meetings) can take a long walk off a short pier; this job will kick your butt, which is why so many new teachers don’t make it the first five years. I took a break a couple of years back, which was a really good thing for my mental health.

At work, I have to be the adult, I have to set the example. That’s part of my job.  Sometimes, I’m not a great example when I’ve been pushed to my limit. When I screw up, I apologize, not for being angry, but how I handled it. Since I became a teacher eleven years ago, I’ve probably been called every name in the book, in a few different languages, no less. It gets to you, especially when it happens on a daily basis. Not an excuse, my skin is a lot tougher than it used to be and I’m constantly working on it. Sometimes, I really wish people could see how their kids really act at school, but like my brother said, those parents would probably blame the teachers.

So, at the end of this school year, I’m not looking for accolades, pats on the back, or anything else. I just want peace and quiet for a while. I want to not be called names and talked back to. I want no one to laugh in my face. I no one to blatantly lie or cheat and think I’m stupid enough to not notice or figure it out. I want to be myself for just a little while, to go to the bathroom when I want to, and to not grade. Not. One. Single. Paper.

Teaching is not for sissies.

Happy Summer!

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During a conversation with my husband the other night, we happened upon the topic of change. It came up because I’m going to Detroit Pride this weekend to join up with Free Mom Hugs. For those that don’t know, Free Mom Hugs, a group which also includes dads, gives free hugs, high-fives, fist bumps, and encouragement to LGBTQIA individuals who have been rejected by their families. I’m totally stoked about being able to show a bit of love to someone who may just need it, lord knows we all do from time to time.

I reflected on how this was not what I was raised to believe, and how people can grow and change.

I know because I changed.

I was raised in a very conservative home where I was taught, especially in church, that being gay, or at least, being in a gay relationship, was a sin. It was never really an issue, just one of the countless sins we were told about. I didn’t know any better until I actually met people who were “out” in high school and in my first year of college. Listening to their stories really made me question the belief system I had been taught. Why were people being judged and condemned for how they were born, for who they were, for who they loved? The more I reasoned, the more my views changed and I struggled with what my religion said vs. what I knew in my heart to be true.

My brother came out soon after. He had been raised with the same teachings, I know he didn’t choose to be gay. Why would God make him that way if it was sinful? Why would God make anyone gay if it went against what He wanted? It didn’t make sense. I started reading more and researching, not only personal stories, but articles and studies on religion to see what was actually being said in translations and realized that I didn’t agree with the interpretation that had been preached to me for all those years. I was soon completely convinced: people don’t choose their sexuality, it’s hard-wired from the very beginning.

With this realization, I made it a point to be an ally. We’ve raised our kids to be accepting of everyone. We’ve also been very fortunate to belong to a church where everyone is welcome, no matter what, with no agenda to “fix” people. One of our pastors even risked her job to marry two wonderful men a few years ago and we became an official Reconciling Ministries church the year after. The current pastor and his wife are all in, letting the rainbow banners fly. Our denomination is in a struggle right now to officially adopt a policy where gay marriages can be performed without penalty and I’m happy to say that there has some progress made on this. It looks much more hopeful now than it did a few months ago. We have wonderful new members who came to us because they have faith, but have not felt welcome in other places. There is still much to do.

Faith is important to a lot of people and it makes me sad that being gay is a reason for some to shut others out, no matter what the religion is. Do the homework, not just “research” from the conservative side, but objective research from real science. Talk to gay Christians, or gay Muslims, or gay Jews. You’ll find many. There are plenty of gay atheists, too, in case you’re not religious. Get their perspective, and really, truly, listen to them without judgement. Listen to religious scholars on the other side with an open mind and pray for understanding.

There’s another reason I think this is an incredibly important topic. According to The Trevor Project, suicide is the second leading cause of death for people aged 10-24 and LGB youth seriously think about suicide three times more than heterosexual youth. (https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/preventing-suicide/facts-about-suicide/#sm.00001dqohxj19xof4dx2kuf9llet1) They would rather die than deal with the pain they feel from being rejected by the world, their places of worship, even their parents. That should say something to even the hardest heart. Think about that. Children would rather take their own lives than subject themselves to the humiliation heaped on them by those who think they are less than. As someone who has been on that precipice, that decision is born out of desperation, not attention-seeking. The methods used to change children are bogus, as proven over and again. Conversion therapy is cruel and it doesn’t work. You can’t “pray the gay away”, you can’t beat it out of someone, and you can’t change their mind. That’s not how it works. Again, do the research. Hear them.

LGBTQIA people are not broken, they don’t need to be fixed. Like everyone, they need to feel loved, they need to know that they are accepted, and treated with dignity and respect. I thank God, those long-ago high school and college friends, my brother,  and my sister-cousin, for being brave, for opening my eyes, for opening my mind. My life is richer and fuller for that, for the friends I have, for the love I am shown daily. I shudder to think of what my life could have been like if I hadn’t followed my heart.

Growth is often uncomfortable, because you often have to fix stuff, but the rewards are wonderful. When I see anti-gay protesters, so angry, waving their vile signs, it’s difficult to not be angry myself. I want to jump in and defend my friends and family so badly, but getting in someone’s face rarely changes their mind. Instead, I try to love. I try to set a good example. I try to stand up for what I know to be the right thing. I teach my students that using the word “gay” or “queer” as insults is not acceptable when the situation pops up, besides teaching acceptance of all as a norm.

I’m also still learning. As I mentioned, I want to be the best ally I can and I want to do it right. I make mistakes sometimes (I still have to make myself think of and say correct pronouns for the gender fluid, just because it’s a habit) but that’s part of growth and understanding and I welcome it, even when I screw up. I can do more.

So, Happy Pride Month. Much love to my family and friends who are celebrating and know that I have your back, always. May God bless you always.

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Someone needs this today.

You’re amazing. You’ve overcome so many things.

You’re wonderful. Someone thinks so, for real.

You have a purpose, even if you don’t know what it is yet. I don’t know mine, either.

Don’t give up. Please.

Life sucks sometimes.

Still don’t give up. Ever.

You’re worth it.

 

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