My Indoor Garden || Learning How to Care for Real Plants

A hyacinth soaking up all the sunlight it can in the kitchen

February 9

We've been enjoying unseasonably warm weather here in Northern VA this Winter which, frankly, has been wonderful for my seasonal depression. Still, I've had absolutely no interest in testing those waters and so I've continued enlisting the help of coping skills both old and new. In light of the new, this year I've decided to try my hand at caring for indoor plants.

For those who know me in person, this is potentially laughable based on my history of killing succulents. My primary motivation to try this new experience was my alternative: buying myself fresh flowers about twice a month for the colder months. This route of caring for indoor plants is definitely more cost-effective and, frankly, I've found it to be more therapeutic as well.

When I was in the hospital following my mental breakdown 3 years ago, I learned that getting your hands into dirt is a great coping skill and surprisingly therapeutic. After being discharged, I attended a NAMI conference with my dad and, there, learned how to repot a plant. I couldn't tell you what the plant looked like and I didn't repot another one for three more years but I do remember the feel and the smell of the dirt. And for the moment that it took to complete the task at hand, nothing else in the world mattered to me. The otherwise constant physical pain of the severe anxiety left me and I can't even express how much I enjoyed the brief relief. The calm that I experienced was a moment of strength for me that gave me hope to keep fighting for another day.

Back to the new this year. I was motivated by my desire to decorate my little apartment. In mid-December, I bought myself a small pot of mini roses which, sadly but predictably, died within a couple of weeks. Then, right after that, one of my best friends gave me another small pot of flowers in celebration of the anniversary of my breakdown. I was so excited about them and sincerely hoped that they would last longer than the roses. They found their new home on a windowsill in my home and I soon fell into a rhythm of caring for them, watering them about once a week. Since they hadn't died yet, I purchased several mini plants from Trader Joes and added them to the windowsill. Again, I quickly fell into a rhythm of caring for them and soon learned how to read them accurately (one day, I noticed one of them wilting heavily. I immediately watered it and was delighted when I saw the next day that it looked good as new!).

The trial period for my plants ended (I unofficially gave myself about 3 weeks) and I bought a small indoor watering can. I was very surprised by how much that added to the therapeutic experience as a whole: I had no idea how fun it would be to walk around my apartment watering my plants!

Sweet philodendron looking all happy and perky in the living area

I currently have something like 15 indoor plants - most of which are those teeny tiny miniature $2 plants from Trader Joes - and they are all doing so well! Most of them reside on my bedroom windowsill and that's where I plan to repot them in a windowsill planter to give them a better chance at a longer life. Additionally, my mom gave me two pots of philodendrons. These are such a welcome sight for me as they were around the house during my childhood and I very much enjoy that they require little-to-no sunlight and so I can put them anywhere in a room.

The trial period

My sweet, simple indoor garden

February 24

I've repotted my plants, with my mom's help, in the last couple of weeks. Repotting them was immense fun. I had never picked the plants up from their tiny pots before those moments and I could finally see that they had maybe an inch of dirt to their name and that a couple of them wanted so badly to stretch their roots but just didn't have the space to. I'm so happy that they now do!

Along the way, my Mom showed me the mug that I had repotted a plant in at the NAMI conference with my dad. That's when I realized that I remembered the moment, the smell and the feel of the dirt and, of course, the temporary relief from the pain but literally nothing else. I still have no idea what the plant looked like but I thought I had replanted it in a pot and not a coffee mug! I took the mug back and repotted a succulent in it (which is quite possibly exactly what I did at the conference) and that gave me the idea to get several more nature-themed mugs (thank you, thrift stores!) to pot more succulents in and decorate the downstairs windowsill with.

Now that I'm gaining confidence in my ability to care for plants, I'm hoping to try caring for herbs. I've heard that they're harder - easy to underwater and overwater - but I'd be so interested in giving it a try, especially knowing how therapeutic the experience is.

I'd love to read your thoughts and tips about indoor plants and herbs. Please feel free to share in the comments!

My Word of the Year for 2020

It was Thanksgiving and the dear friend sitting opposite to me at the table asked me about New Years resolutions. Do I make them and, if so, are they successful? Is it even worth thinking of them? I'm not sure whether or not my answer surprised her; I oftentimes find that my answer does. I proceeded to tell her about my tradition of choosing a word of the year as a kind of checkpoint for the year. My word for 2019 was "Brave". I was inspired by St Joan of Arc ("I am not afraid... I was born to do this!" and "In God's Name, let us go on bravely!") and C.S. Lewis ("Courage, dear heart."), and was it ever perfect! I certainly felt anxious and afraid but I never lost my determination:

Brave.

In January, I continued going to Church even though I had a panic attack during almost every Mass I attended.

In February, I suffered a panic attack on Valentine's Day but, despite my great reluctance, did life anyway the very next day.

In March I began attending a 12 Step Christian support group. The first time I went, I was so scared that I had to take my emergency meds to calm down... now it's been 9 months!

In April, knowing my newly diagnosed allergy to mold could possibly cause a panic attack at my parent's Church, I attended the Easter Triduum solo for the first time at a neighboring Church.

In May, I learned that several coworkers were leaving and I knew that my job title would change which was both terrifying and exciting.

In June, I began hiking most every weekend with a new small group of friends and we so enjoyed getting to know each other better.

In July, the Summer's heat and humidity triggered my anxiety almost every day but I still made myself do life and hydrated as much as possible.

In August, I celebrated my birthday with friends, old and new, at a party hosted by a good friend. My goal was to have fun and meet people and she invited people I'd never met before. By the night's end, everyone expressed how glad they were that they'd come.

In September, I moved out of my parents home and it really didn't take me too long to settle into my new home nestled in the woods by a lake with some of our longtime family friends. Less than a week after I moved, my letter was published on The Catholic Woman blog and I published a follow-up post on my blog about my experience of being suicidal. The latter is now the second most-read post on this little blog with more than 200 views; I don't expect to ever find out how many people read my letter but traffic to my social media accounts increased after its publication and I continue to receive messages from readers who are sharing their hearts with me and asking questions of my story regarding their own stories.

In October, I went on my very first airplane and enjoyed a trip to Colorado with my family.

In November, I joined a cast with my violin and rehearsed for a holiday show.

In December, the show opened, was immense fun and I loved and enjoyed every moment of it. It was especially wonderful to meet and greet people after the show and realize how many of them were people I've met since doing my last show. I love that I spent so much time this year branching out and building a great network of friends both new and old!
I'm not letting go of or burying "Brave"; if anything, I think I've started a new trend for myself! And my new word for 2020:

Rhythm.

I'm inspired by a song lyric from Carrie Underwood (which I think can be beautifully spiritualized), "Dancing to the rhythm of [His] heartbeat", and a quote from Ann Voskamp, "The fastest way to joy is slow".

I told my friend sitting opposite of me at the table that the first thing I'm doing is easing myself off most of my social media accounts. I've already closed my Instagram account and hope to be off Facebook in the next 6 months. I encourage those who wish to continue following my blog to subscribe via email on the righthand side underneath my picture.
Getting off social media is honestly a long time in the coming and, though I'm sad to not see updates from many of the incredible people I've been following for years, I'm excited for the year ahead and to be more and more invested in real life.

Lord, find me grateful!

My Life is Unrecognizable

"Enjoy this time. Believe me, your life will become very full soon enough," said my therapist after I told her that my days really weren't very exciting. She always began our sessions, after greeting me, by saying "Tell me everything" and I loved it about her. And now as she spoke these words to me, I truly did believe her.
I smile back on that day now. It was before I entered remission following my breakdown, before I landed my current job, and while I could wash my then very long hair in the late morning then sit outside in the Summer sun for the next hour or so while it slowly dried. Every day. It was during those few months that the thing I looked forward to the most were my weekly meetings with this therapist. I smile thinking of how I lived those days. They were slow but they were so good for me. I was learning how to embrace my life in the now, caring less and less about yesterday or tomorrow. I was learning to love the present.

And my therapist was absolutely correct. Life sure did become so much more full and it really didn't take long! I spent that school year learning the lay of the land at my new -- current -- school and loving every bit of it. The following year, I was promoted to working full-time and did a show as musician. Though my "yes" to the show was oh-so-reluctant, I ended up rediscovering my love of music and accidentally discovered a new passion!

My life today is unrecognizable to the girl who sat outside letting her hair dry slowly in the Summer sunshine. In fact, I recently enjoyed a day of doing very, very little and I basked in the simplicity of it, chuckling with gratitude about how much I love my beautifully full and abundant life now, so much so that slower days like these no longer make me feel stuck in my state of singleness. On the contrary, they make me feel strong knowing that my life now has a healthy balance of rest, work, socializing, passions, nutrition, reading, writing, music and all of the sweet little things that I enjoy doing and being.

This is a good, wonderful, abundant life. Lord, find me grateful!

My First Airplane Experience was...

… terrific!

The lodge where we stayed. Makes me dream of the Sound of Music!

We'd been planning this trip to Colorado to visit my sister for almost 2 years and I'm still not sure that I can actually believe that it really happened. Two years ago, I was still in the very earliest stages of recovery after my mental breakdown and the prospect of getting on an airplane (something I'd never done before) seemed literally impossible to me. In fact, I was pretty sure that my family -- if this really happened -- would simply go without me. And I was more or less ok with that at the time.

You may remember this post about how Eleanor Roosevelt helped form my approach to anxiety in which I used my real-life fear of airplanes as an analogy for finding freedom; I linked to it in my most recent post in which I announced that one of my top goals for this blog (namely, to write a post about the first time I went flying) was about to come to fruition. For context, I've pretty much always had a fear of flying and absolutely no experience with it. Forms of transportation such as driving and the DC metro stress me out regularly so I figured that something grand and adventurous like airports and airplanes would be the death of me.

Then my breakdown happened and life seemed literally impossible (you probably know that I just wanted to end it all). But then, as I sat in that "dentist" chair receiving TMS therapy (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation) for mental illness, my eyes almost constantly wandered to that poster on the door with that quote from Eleanor Roosevelt -- "You must do the thing you think you cannot do" -- and I could not shake the image of me in an airplane (sans destination. The important part was airports and airplanes).

In short, my perceived inability to do airports (which was about 90% of my fear) was a huge obstacle in my life.

My younger sister flew out to Colorado several days before the rest of us and she kindly sent me play-by-play videos of as much as she could of her airport experience. That was incredibly helpful. But the pearl of wisdom from her that helped me the most was the text message that told me that airports are simpler than the metro. I can't even express the amount of anxiety that left me when I read that. And I found it to be entirely true.

Sunrise behind us flying West; hiking with our nephew to build a snowman; view from the lodge

As far as 9/11 was concerned, I really didn't struggle with a fear of death or catastrophe. If the thought crossed my mind, I simply reminded myself that there have been many, many more successful and safe flights and people hop on airplanes to just about anywhere all the time. I also have a favorite quote from the movie Sully that I was looking forward to discovering for myself. Early in the movie, Sully and his co-pilot are in the cockpit. Just as they're getting to cruising height and before the bird strike, Sully sighs, taking in the beauty of the day and the sight of the Hudson River, saying "Life is so much simpler up here," and his co-pilot contentedly agrees. I've never flown an airplane before and don't ever expect to, but I think I now know the feeling they experience.

The only part that I didn't like much  (I'd call it the most frustrating part of the whole experience -- more so than the kid sitting behind me on the first flight who would occasionally kick the back of my seat) was looking down at the ground and having absolutely no idea what State we were flying over.

We hiked a mountain, built a snowman, then hiked back

My favorite part? I'm no extrovert but I love people and learning about their creative sides. One of the things that got me through the airport experiences was observing all the systems in action (which also helped me to stay in the moment and not worry about the next step). From checking bags and not seeing them again until baggage claim (someone had to think of that idea and create a system) to why on earth anyone would want a job that I cannot understand desiring (TSA people... God bless you!), it just fascinated me to see the fruits of others' creative geniuses.

I love seeing and meeting new people because I'm so curious about their life story up to the point where our paths cross and, of course, beyond.

At our terminal, watching the plane leave before our own arrived to take us back to Virginia

I was especially grateful to the pilots and flight attendants who were so incredibly friendly (my 2 year old nephew was crying for his dinner as we boarded our flight home and one of the attendants said that she'd be crying, too, if someone were delaying her dinner) and I wondered about their lives, too. I'm curious about where they woke up in the morning, where they'll sleep and how long they've been away from their loved ones. Not one of them gave me the impression that they'd rather have a different job or that they were having a bad day (I understand that that is professional but humor me, please). It was incredible to be in the care of such kind people... and I think I can now understand the desire to be a flight attendant (but, no, I will not be switching jobs).

Overall, an experience I'm very glad to have had. In fact, the writing of this post now seems somewhat trivial. Nonetheless, I'm very proud of myself for doing something I thought I couldn't do and I look forward to my life becoming even more unrecognizable in the future.

Lord, find me grateful!

I'm About to Go on My First Airplane

Rare though it might be for someone in my age group and in this day and age to write this, I've never been in an airplane before. We drove everywhere when I was a child; I have 5 siblings and we really only traveled to visit grandparents or to go to our favorite family retreat center in Cape May, NJ. Most of my siblings went on their first airplane during college but I never took advantage of any World Youth Day event or Alternative Spring Break trip or other opportunity to fly. In less than two weeks, though, I'll be flying out to Colorado with my family to visit one of my sisters for a little family reunion of sorts. This is the "before" post. (I shared in this post that one of my goals with this blog is to write a post about the first time I go flying.)

Truth be told, I've always been a bit scared of airports and flying and, though it's not the only reason why, 9/11 sure didn't help. I've been anxious about me getting lost in airports or my luggage getting lost -- not to mention navigating the unfamiliar of wherever my destination is! Adventure doesn't thrill me... (though that leads me to wonder about my every day life because I don't absorb directions very quickly and the DMV area is crazy). Regardless, I'm a bit surprised that I'm actually excited about this new adventure and introduction into the world of flying.

Now, to be fair, I'll be traveling with my family -- including all three of my nephews (ages 5 1/2, 2 1/2, 1) -- so I expect to be plenty distracted. I'm looking forward to seeing what planet Earth looks like from way up high and I'd also like you, dear reader, to know that I literally have no idea how to pack for this trip (Colorado in October? I hear it's possible to experience all four seasons in one day!). But largely thanks to the tremendous amount of therapy I've already had, I find myself generally excited because I'm more myself now than I have been in years.

I still have anxiety, don't get me wrong, but -- in the last few years -- moving out of denial and into acceptance and gaining lots of tools through therapy of ways to live more abundantly is lifechanging.

One example of this growth is that I've moved 5 or 6 times in the last 8 years and each time -- within a month -- I've gotten into a car accident to varying degrees of damage. Well, I moved again only a few weeks ago and I was nervous about another car accident. As a firm believer in the power of prayer, I asked several friends to pray for me for this intention. That, coupled with the tools that I've gained through therapy, and I've learned in the last few weeks that I truly am stronger, braver and smarter than I know (thank you, Winnie-the-Pooh... or is that Christopher Robin?). There have been no car accidents and I'm no longer even worried about the possibility! The new confidence that this has given me is invaluable and I'm so grateful to have experienced it before getting on that plane. (I'd also like to note that the last car accident that I was in -- a mild fender bender -- happened before most of the therapy that I've experienced.)

So while I have very little knowledge of what to expect (I've been in an airport twice in my recollection), I'm not afraid of the possibility of heightened anxiety or an attack. Either could happen but I'm confident in my ability to utilize appropriate coping skills. I expect to be exhausted. Traveling with tired nephews might be exciting, too, and perhaps the weather will be a bit different there than in my still fairly mild Virginia-in-the-Fall weather but I am excited to show myself again that I am strong and brave and that my life is worth living and worth living abundantly.

The "after" (or recap) post will hopefully be here in November. Meanwhile, I'm usually active on Instagram (@sarahloutherese) should you be interested in pictures of beautiful Colorado.

A blissful October to you, dear friends!

I Talked Myself Out of a Panic Attack

I already knew that my anxiety was triggered. This was obvious because I could barely eat anything for dinner the night before. This, uncharacteristically of me, did not concern me too much even though a light dinner typically means a rough morning the following day. I've made some significant and successful changes to my early morning routine so I was feeling confident as I fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke up and knew immediately that my body was a little off. I still ate my protein bar first thing while sipping water, then took an extra minute in a slightly cooler than usual shower. I was starting to feel better.

After I spent some time in prayer accompanied by my iced tea, I put in an online order for a smoothie to top off my breakfast, got my lunch together and set off for another day with some of my favorite kids.

The weather was cooler, like Fall even though it's still early September and I live in Virgina. Still, it made our early morning outdoor time at school more enjoyable as we wrapped ourselves in sweaters.

Around 9:30, though, inside doing Circle Time with my class, I felt my stomach drop and, with it, my anxiety heighten. I quickly took off my sweater as I got hot and a bit lightheaded. My mind started telling me that I wouldn't make it through the day, working with kids is too stressful, I'll never live on my own because it's just not safe, I won't be able to keep my job because I'm not strong enough... all of it.

This is what anxiety does for me. I started that sentence in the last paragraph with "My mind started telling me" because not one of those things is true. And I know that when these racing thoughts come, they are lies and if I let myself dwell on them I will plunge myself into a downward spiral and end up in a panic attack. Typically, panic attacks last 20-30 minutes and you feel like you're going to die. (But you won't. No one has ever died of a panic attack.) I knew I had to get myself out of this thought pattern before I came to deeper waters.

The children now happily sitting around the tables eating their morning snack, I quickly took my emergency meds, grabbed my water bottle, sat down under the AC to slowly drink my water and started repeating over and over quietly in my head: "Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me...".

I continued repeating it. The Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 2666 says "The Name of Jesus is the only name that contains the presence it signifies." I knew that by praying His Name and saying this truth over myself, I was slowly bringing myself to an awareness of His presence right there and then, reminding myself also that life happens a day at a time, a moment at a time and all those lies that my mind was telling me are only empty words. They have no truth in them.

I continued praying "Jesus loves me" in my mind over and over and over as we took our class outside to read a book and explore the outdoors. Sitting around a picnic blanket with my class, I put my hand gently on top of the grass and I noticed how it felt on my hand. I took slow and steady deep breaths, noting how the air smelled and tasted. I looked around at my class and noticed each of my students' faces and outfits. I continued to note my breathing to make sure that it stayed calm. This is a practice of Mindfulness. My goal was to make sure that I stayed engaged with reality.

As the children scampered around like little squirrels exploring the outdoors, I continued to sip my water. I purposefully kept a little smile on my face because this relaxes my face and my body. All the while, I'm still praying - sometimes softly saying it aloud - "Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me...".

My body still felt heavy. But my mind was now in a place where I could think more rationally. I told myself that calm is contagious and that I was proud of myself for taking ownership of my body and of my mind, and for reaching out to Jesus for help.

By the time I was back to a place where I was confident about being at work and life in general, two whole hours had passed.

You'll read more about "young Sarah" (birth to age 12) in my letter when it's published on Sept 25. For now, I'd like to share that this "new Sarah" -- the Sarah that utilized her coping skills to make it through a hard morning at work --  is a lot like "young Sarah" but she's so much stronger now having gone through what you'll read about in my letter. It's not easy to share this story with you (my letter or this post). But I am because maybe you can relate to it and maybe you find peace and strength knowing that you're not alone.

Lord, find me grateful! _____________________________________________________________

Hey friends! Thanks for being here and reading along with my pursuit of an abundant life (cf John 10:10)! I’m excited to share that my story with mental illness, written in the form of a letter for the blog The Catholic Woman and their series Letters to Women, will be published there on September 25. Please join me in praying for the letter and for everyone who will read it. 

When it is published, I need your help! I hope that this letter reaches many hearts but I can’t do that by myself. Please share my letter when it is published. This story isn’t so much about mental illness as it is about God’s love and mercy and how I came to find my home in his heart.

As always, I'm also over on Instagram and I enjoy connecting with you there: @sarahloutherese God bless and keep your heart up! For more information on Mindfulness: https://catholicpsych.com/ Calligraphy by The Oodles of Doodles: Etsy shop and Instagram

"Would You Rather...?"

I recently started a new job at my job and, with it, comes all the expected and not expected changes and transitions of going from a 30 to a 40 hour work week. I love it, though, and I'm so grateful that God knows my heart better than I do because this happened just in time for me to spend most of my day with what is so far one of the sweetest classes I've ever worked with in my 8 years of teaching.

As I said, it's been a shift in the schedule -- 40 hours is pretty different from 30 -- and I was nervous about building up the stamina but confident that I could do it. So, for the last couple of weeks, I've been playing little games of "Would You Rather?" with myself. It's all about cause and effect and my goal is to help myself make the better choice in the moment so as to live life more abundantly... and have less frustration with myself to suffer over the following 12-24 hours. 

Picture this: it's 9:30 at night, I know that I'm not a night owl and that I do best on about 8 hours of sleep. Sleep does not come easily for me so, if I lay down now, I'll hopefully succumb in about 45 minutes. But it'd be so easy to turn on Netflix for a little while. (As cheesy of an example as that sounds, it's an almost nightly choice for me.) Sarah, I ask myself, Would you rather watch Netflix now and possibly still be awake at 11 or 12 or take your meds, say Night Prayer, turn on your Nature Sounds to help you relax, and get a good night's sleep so that you are more ready for another day with your students tomorrow? 

Netflix loses every time.

Now picture this: I had plans to go see a movie over Labor Day weekend when a friend texted me on Friday night and asked if I'd like to go to a particular annual Labor Day weekend festival with her on Saturday at the exact time I was planning to see the movie. I almost texted her back immediately saying 'no'! Hold on, I said to myself, Sarah, would you rather go see a movie by yourself that is showing at other times or get together with your friend to go to this festival that you've heard about for years but have never gone to because you've never had a friend to go with?

Can I just say that it's amazing how obvious the right answer is when you take a moment to consider the bigger picture and ask yourself to answer the question honestly? We went to the festival and we both had an incredible time!

The first week of the new school year was long but so good because I did my best to make sure that I was well-rested every day, intentionally cultivated a spirit of gratitude. And this little game of "Would You Rather?" really did help me make the better decisions -- from not hitting the snooze button 5 days in a row to being more disciplined about my bedtime routines. This year was my 8th time starting a new school year in the role of a teacher and I dare to say it was the best first week of school yet! 

Lord, find me grateful!

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Hey friends! Thanks for being here and reading along with my pursuit of an abundant life (cf John 10:10)! I’m excited to share that my story with mental illness, written in the form of a letter for the blog The Catholic Woman and their series Letters to Women, will be published there on September 25. Please join me in praying for the letter and for everyone who will read it. 

When it is published, I need your help! I hope that this letter reaches many hearts but I can’t do that by myself. Please share my letter when it is published. This story isn’t so much about mental illness as it is about God’s love and mercy and how I came to find my home in his heart.

Also: I've recently made some changes behind the scenes on my blog. Consequently, it's possible that those of you who had subscribed to my blog via email will have to subscribe again if you would like to continue receiving my posts in your inbox. I did not foresee this when I made the changes and I apologize for the inconvenience.

As always, I’m also over on Instagram and I enjoy connecting with you there! @sarahloutherese

God bless, and keep your heart up!

How Eleanor Roosevelt Helped Form My Approach to Anxiety

I was three months shy and yet an eternity away from my 25th birthday when I found myself sitting in a chair similar to one you’d sit in at the dentist. This chair, though, is at a psychiatric office and the dentist was one of the last things on my mind. I was there to receive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) Therapy. The impending pain inflicted by the treatment itself did not scare me. If I had anything to fear, it was that the treatment wouldn’t work and I’d be back where I started: searching for relief from major depression and the constant emotional pain of severe anxiety (which was so great at that point that I felt it physically all the time). The fact that I was even sitting in this chair meant that evidence had been submitted to my insurance and they had accepted that 3-5 different prescription drugs had been unsuccessful for me and so I was already in a sensitive place in terms of my optimism towards recovery - and that’s putting it politely. I was very ready to give in to complete and utter discouragement and despair yet I still looked around at everyone who loved and supported me and made myself cling to their hope for me when I couldn’t find any within myself.

I sat in that chair every single day for about 3 weeks receiving treatment for about 30 minutes. Sometimes a nurse would sit down with me and we’d converse; other times I was left to myself with music playing softly in the background. Every time I sat in that chair, my eyes would inevitably wander over to the door and rest on a little poster there which featured a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt. Oh, how her words made me cringe: “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” Now, I dream big. So every single time my eyes rested on that quote, I pictured myself in an airplane. There was no destination in this mental image; there was simply the reminder that the idea of flying has long been terrifying to me and - to this day - I’ve never been in an airplane and I have no idea how to do airports. (One of my goals with this blog is to write a post about the first time I go flying.) This mental imagine scared me even more because - please understand - I’m still sitting in that dentist chair in a psychiatric office receiving treatment for mental illness. The path from that chair to the airplane was hidden underneath everything imaginable on an overgrown, neglected path. I had tried so hard to bring the past into my future but it left me with a life path that would be impossible to navigate. Now I was slowly realizing that the past belongs in the past but each traveler is allowed a backpack of tools they’ve picked up as they’ve traveled their life’s road to help them figure out each step, navigate the obstacles and ultimately reach the final destination.

The path from the chair to the airplane remained quite overgrown for some time. I finished the TMS treatment (unfortunately, it did little for me) and simultaneously began Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) with my favorite of the 7 different therapists that I had in a two year timespan (friends, therapy is hard. But it’s also very worth all the hard work, especially if you have a great relationship with your therapist. Please don’t be afraid to try several different therapists to find the best fit for you. It made a world of difference for me and that’s my prayer for you). Those months of CBT were a game changer for me. Slowly, slowly, I recognized many of these negative thoughts in my mind that I believed, wrote them down and acknowledged where they were coming from. Then I reframed those same thoughts into truths by indentifying them with core beliefs about myself. Little by little, that old, neglected path was pruned. It was painful. It was freeing. It was exciting. It was an adventure in my own head and it was healthy and amazing. And I had someone walking with me every step of the way, holding my hand tightly in support. 

In many ways, I have reached that airplane. I got up from that chair and I got a new job where I am happier than I could have hoped I’d be (a prospect that seemed impossible from that chair). I took a small risk by spending some money on a concert ticket - long story short, we ended up receiving a free upgrade to the orchestra pit at that Pentatonix concert and I enjoyed every moment of it (I would not have had the freedom to allow myself the pleasure of that ticket before sitting in that chair). I even rediscovered my love of music, the joy it gives people, and my ability to be an instrument of that joy. Sitting in that chair, I could not have fathomed any of this. Then, I couldn’t see the future: even tomorrow was in the dark. But I am a child of the Light. (See what I did there? That was CBT.) I still struggle with moments of “What’s the point?” - I think we all do. The point is that our God is the God of abundance and we can choose to embrace the struggle or we can give in to despair. Because I sat in that chair, I am no longer afraid to let myself flourish. You must do the thing you think you cannot do, then come back and tell me it was worth it for the strength, courage, and confidence gained through the experience.

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Oh, Hey!! A warm hello to the people who have subscribed to my blog via email! If you’re interested in getting my posts delivered directly to your inbox, type in your email below my picture on the right hand side and you’ll receive them just about as frequently as I update the blog. No update, no email! Again - hello and welcome aboard! So glad you’re here :) 

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On Making Goals

Every year for the last decade or so I’ve picked a word as my “New Year’s Resolution”. Sometimes I have a Mystery of the Rosary and its corresponding virtue instead. Just before Christmas, I realized that it was that time of the year again and immediately started feeling stressed at the prospect of choosing another word when I didn’t even remember what 2018’s word was (actually, as I’m typing this, I think I do remember). But then, instead of letting myself walk further past that stress to greet the anxiety that was awaiting me, I realized that my word for 2019 had already chosen me.

I finished 2018 with quite the bang - one that I never, ever saw coming. I got back on stage for the first time in 16 years and I played violin. It turned out to be an incredible experience: a community theater production of A Christmas Carol, set in St. Louis in the 1930s. There was an ensemble of musicians playing live bluegrass music on stage and I did what I could to fiddle around with the violin. It truly was great fun! (More on that coming next week.)

Then, as 2019 came closer and closer and was upon us, I created this blog and right there at the bottom of the first post I found the word I was looking for: brave. I was terrified to get on stage but decided that that was not a good enough reason to not do the show, so I did it anyway. I was scared to click publish on the first post of this blog but - with the same kind of motivation - did it anyway. I truly hope, as hard as it will be, that writing this blog will motivate me to do hard things in real life to give me something to write about - thus this year I need to challenge myself to be brave.

I find goals to be far less intimidating than resolutions. It seems to me that resolutions are easily failed then the maker of them says miserably that they couldn’t live up to their own expectations. Whatever. I like goals better. They sound like they have more opportunity and are better for learning in the school of life. So my goal for being brave this year? I’ll start by putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes that’s what we call taking a leap of faith.