Tag Archives: Therapy

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A Word on Darkness

It’s lurking. I can feel it hovering at the corners of my mind, of my spirit. It’s moving towards me, but this time I am not being caught unaware. This time, I see it coming. And I can do something about it.

It’s like being in the Berkeley Hills, looking out towards San Francisco as the fog rolls in. You can see it and feel it coming. It takes over. As the sun goes down the darkness and fog become one. I’m not afraid of it, per se. I’m afraid of not being strong enough to not get lost in it.

Fog rolling in

A year ago I stopped taking my medication. I had been on meds for a few years prior and I wasn’t stopping just because I felt better. I wanted to stop to see if I could do life without a dependency on drugs. It might sound silly or presumptuous, but I wanted to see if I had what it took – though I’m not even sure what that means – to live life without a regular dosage of a Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI). I am a supporter of medication and recognize that depression is not just a feeling but is a biological reality that has chemical implications. I am clear now that I am not one who can just pray, exercise, eat and sleep my way through dealing with my depression. Continue reading →

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A Word on Shame

Shame Quote

As Brene Brown would say, this weekend I suffered from the worst vulnerability hangover ever. After my unfortunate Friday night experience, all I wanted to do was go and hide. I replayed the events of that night over and over and over again and could only think one thing – “Lord, have mercy.”

You see, not only did I feel bad about how things went, my mind led me to a place that went beyond embarrassment to pure shame. I totally passed over the thought of “Oh, well, maybe it will be better next time” and headed straight to “See you are not good enough. You really are a fraud. You can’t do this. You are bad.” Continue reading →

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Yoga Making Space

I am starting a new journey this weekend. Over the next 10 months, I am a student training to become a certified yoga teacher. This wasn’t a part of my plan. It’s funny how things happen like that. One moment I am sure of one path and the next, something and someone I couldn’t imagine or didn’t know grace my path and things begin to coalesce.

I am a dancer and have lamented my disconnection from dance as physical, emotional and spiritual therapy. Since my move and the various transitions of my life, I have not been in touch with my physical form. And I’ve suffered because of it. Sure things have been pretty good as of late, but I have felt like a piece of me has been missing.

I haven’t been grounded.

I haven’t been in touch with my body.

I haven’t spent time moving and stretching and breathing life into tired joints and stiff muscles.

I haven’t engaged in something that causes my mind to stop and allows me to hear – to hear my own inner thoughts and to hear that small, still voice of God that reaches out to me when I am engaging in that which I love.

DownToEarth-Yoga_art-Alders800px

Enter Yoga. A colleague of mine is a yoga instructor and owns her own studio. I became close with her and the Spirit showed up. There’s more to this story that I will share later but the short version is that through this connection I am beginning this journey.

All of this is happening at the same time that I am experiencing some breakthroughs in therapy. I am beginning to peel back layers of myself and it has become clear that now is the time for me to confront some fears, some insecurities and some maladaptive ways of being. I can’t run from certain things anymore. It’s time that I make space…

Yoga is a way of life. The word yoga actually means to unite; to unite one’s mind, body and spirit on a journey of peace and acceptance. I realized tonight that I am on a journey of making space to knit pieces of myself back together as I seek healing and wholeness.

The part that’s been missing, the part that I’ve been longing for, is an integrated sense of self. I got this through dance. I was able to fully embody who I was created to be and the practice of dance taught me much about myself and ways of being in the world. After our first practice and class tonight, I was overwhelmed by the feelings that emerged simply because I made space.

Making space allowed me to feel some emotions that I’ve been avoiding.

Making space allowed me to hear from my body.

Making space allowed me to confront the negative voices that spew lies about who I am that my depressed mind has a tendency to believe.

There’s so much more to share and this is only the beginning.

Love,

Me

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The Danger of Self Loathing

Trigger Alert: If you are someone you know is contemplating suicide, please seek help. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is a free and anonymous service. Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255 or visit http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org. 

Self–hatred (also called self–loathing) refers to an extreme dislike or hatred of oneself, or being angry at or even prejudiced against oneself.

Not_Good_Enough_by_graphiqual

I thought I’d never get to that point again. I guess that’s the danger of thinking you’ve overcome something. I still have a lot to learn and realize that my family’s involvement in AA* (Alcoholics Anonymous) and NA* (Narcotics Anonymous) has a lot to teach me. Never stop thinking that you are an addict. You are an addict. You might be in recovery, but the moment you think you’ve conquered your addiction is the moment you fall off the wagon. That being said, I thought I was over feelings of wanting to die.  Until last week.

Self loathing and shame are powerful emotions, ones that lie and lead one to think that they are worthless. And truth be told, they are the two emotions that I have battled much of my life. I don’t know where it comes from, but I have constantly thought that I was unworthy. I could never make a mistake. I was never good enough. All of these thoughts have fueled my desire to further my education and constantly seek to be better. All in all, these aren’t bad things to seek but I’ve learned that the motivations – self loathing and shame – are deadly.

My desire for to be perfect leads me to have zero tolerance about making mistakes and I am inherently ungracious towards myself. More about this thing called grace later…

This past week, everything that I feared became a reality – making a public mistake, disappointing people that I care deeply about, engaging a man in an unhealthy relationship, scaring my closest friends – you name it, it happened. Basically it was one of the worse weeks of my life. And the feeling of wanting to disappear, to leave and never come back, to die, returned.

I didn’t think I would ever be there again. I didn’t think that I would make decisions that would put me in danger. But I am realizing that the longer I go trying to cover up rather than embrace the dark side of myself, the easier it is for me to slip back into thinking that I am worthless. My tendency during these moments is to withdraw, to shut out loved ones and crawl into myself. I’ve found that my thinking is flawed during this time because my mind leads me to wonder why anyone would care. At my lowest moments, I believe this to be true. And this is dangerous.

I am thankful for the community of support that surrounds me in spite of myself. I am thankful for the women in my life who push through and don’t take no for an answer. I am thankful that my decisions did not lead to a point of no return. I am thankful that God’s grace abounds even as I struggle with it and can’t fully comprehend it.

I am continuing on this journey of healing – meeting with my therapist, taking my medication, getting back in shape, taking care of my body – but I realize that there will be setbacks.

My prayer is that feelings of worthlessness disappear as we look them in the eye and declare that they don’t have the last word over our lives.

My prayer is that I grow in grace and compassion towards myself and that you do the same.

My prayer is that love abounds – love of God, love of self and love of others – as I continue to realize my self worth.

Love,

Me

*Alcoholics Anonymous is an international mutual aid fellowship founded in 1935 by Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith in Akron, Ohio. AA states that its “primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics achieve sobriety”. Narcotics Anonymous describes itself as a “nonprofit fellowship or society of men and women for whom drugs had become a major problem”.

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Stop and Stare

One of my favorite and most helpful therapists is a woman named Dr. Meg*. Dr. Meg was one of the first people to tell me to look at my marriage and other things in my life that weren’t life-giving. She was the first therapist to work with me in overcoming childhood trauma using Thought Field Therapy. She is a woman who can only be described as full of life, spiritual, intuitive and truly kind hearted.

One of the things I loved about Dr. Meg is that she was Jewish but had such an open orientation towards the Divine. She could definitely be described as spiritual and not religious; but she respected my viewpoints and my way of thinking about God, faith and life. I worked with Dr. Meg for about three years and really miss her and our time together. She was such a gift to my life and, though it would be another 2 years before I actually embraced what she said, she was a fundamental piece of my ongoing healing.

Dr. Meg probably would have been a hippie back in the day. She had strong feelings about justice and equality and was very much in touch with the physical. She pushed me to love myself fully, keeping in mind that I was created in physical form. My work with her got me thinking about pleasure and joy in ways that I hadn’t imagined before. One session in particular stands out to me and now, four years later, I am finally at the point of understanding what she said.

I was sitting on her couch (yes, she had a couch in her home office) crying my eyes out as is common in my therapy sessions. I don’t know about you, but I probably loose 3-4 pounds of water after every therapy appointment due to the tears that run freely. Dr. Meg was waxing poetic about something and truth be told, I wasn’t in the mood to hear anything positive or well meaning. I think I actually stopped listening at one point but when I came back to the session, she was talking about fucking corn fields. Yes, corn fields.

I patted my eyes dry with the tissue that is always placed strategically within arms length and tuned back into our session. I could tell that Dr. Meg was really feeling what she was talking about so I began to listen. This session was a time that we were working on my disconnection from noticing and appreciating the normal, everyday beauty of life. I had the tendency to take myself and my surroundings way too seriously. For some reason I never let myself just be – just be a kid, just be a girl, just be whatever. It would take pole dancing to reinvigorate a sense of joy and wonder. You can read about that journey here.

So back to this session with Dr. Meg. She was talking about beholding the wonder of God’s creation and an experience she had in corn fields in Iowa. She painted a picture that was devastatingly beautiful as she described rows of corn and light reflecting off of the fields and the smell and the air that surrounded her. She actually was moved to tears in her description.

At this point, all I could do was stop and stare. I had no clue what this woman was talking about. I never felt like that about anything, let alone fucking corn. The one time I have been in Iowa, the corn fields brought about images from horror movies and did NOT bring to mind the beauty of God’s creation. But I digress…

My challenge that week was to take in the beauty that surrounded me and appreciate things for what they were, connecting them to the Divine. I realize now that I wasn’t ready to understand what she was talking about. However, today, August 20, 2013, I finally began to understand.

Today as I sat by the lake and reflected on my devotional reading for the day, I got what Dr. Meg was trying to tell me. As I looked out over the water and watched the sun rise on the horizon, as I listened to the gentle breaking of the water as it hit the sand and as I took in the birds that were finding sustenance and relief from the water, all I could do was stop and stare. I was overwhelmed by the beauty that is God’s creation. As I thought about how things work in syncopated time, sometimes seemingly chaotic but coming together beautifully, I thought about my life. I thought about where I’ve been, where I am and where I hope to go. I thought about they way that God has consistently spoken life into my heart when all I could hear, see and smell was death and despair. I thought about the beauty that is the sun and how it brings life to dark places. And tears came to my eyes. For I could simply stop and stare.

Stop and stare at the beauty that is all around you.

Stop and stare at the wonder that God has created within you.

Stop and stare at the people in your life who love and support you.

Stop and stare and recognize that even in your darkest place, God is trying to reach out to you and connect with you using the most ordinary of means in the most extraordinary of ways.

Thank you Dr. Meg.

Love,

Me

Sunrise at the Lake

Sunrise at the Lake

*Dr. Meg has been using her influence to make a positive difference in her community in seemingly small ways. She is such an inspiration. Read about what she’s been doing here. 

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Dance Lessons Part 1…

I love to dance. There’s something that happens when I hear music that causes a soul-stirring reaction.

I love movement. I love the expression of emotions through movement. I love how beats and rhythms and lyrics come to life in a physical form that is dance.

I am not a gifted dancer. I define gifts as those things that are like breathing, those things that you don’t even have to think about that just flow from you. Dance was not something that came naturally to me. Anyone who knows me from childhood knows that I wasn’t the most coordinated person. Truth be told, I was quite awkward. I discovered dance through my experience as a cheerleader in middle school and high school. I switched over to just dance when I got to college. Dance saved me from myself. When I was a junior in college and in the midst of my second major depressive episode, dance was the only thing that kept me from killing myself.

I am a passionate dancer. Passions are those things that can be cultivated. I see as many dance companies perform as money and time allow. I secretly want to be a member of a Salsa dance troupe and envision the costumes, music and pure joy that would follow. As I’ve gotten older and my passion for dance has been realized, I seek out classes and troupes and studios that would allow me to hone my skills. I’ve taken ballet, jazz, modern, hip-hop, Latin and pole classes. Yes, pole classes. (For more about my experience with pole dancing, click here. It was seriously the most liberating experience of my life!) I have stretched and strengthened muscles I didn’t know I had. I’ve gone from being a terribly awkward girl who was not comfortable in her own skin to a woman who fully embraces her body and sees it as a gift from God. Dance has connected me to my soul and to the Divine.

Dance continues to be one of the best forms of therapy that I experience. I recently moved and while things have largely gone well, I have had some rough times during this transition. Once I found a therapist, I realized that I needed to find a dance class. I signed up for Salsa lessons and am ecstatic that it works with my schedule.  There is clearly a link between exercise and dealing with depression and every time I attend a dance class I am reminded of it’s importance. However, the what I’m learning goes beyond the physical. I am gaining life lessons from this passion of mine and am so grateful.

What things/hobbies/activities serve as therapy for you and teach you life lessons?

Stay tuned…

Love,

Me

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(Not Quite) Daddy’s Little Girl

Unconditional love. Respect. Affirmation. These are the things that I have always wanted from my birth father. For most of my life, I have hitched my self esteem, my self worth and my self identity to his opinions of me. This has definitely been to my peril. What’s ironic about my desire for these things from my father is that he was not a permanent fixture in my life until I was fourteen years old. He didn’t have a track record of giving these things, but for some reason I constantly fantasized about a utopic relationship between us. Why is it that we seem to want the most from those who are least able to give it?

My father and I have a complicated relationship. I am the youngest of his four children by three different women.  My parents were not married when I was conceived and my mother decided to leave him shortly after my birth. I would see him from time to time but I don’t remember him being a steady presence in my life.  My mother met my step-father when I was three and married him when I was six years old. My younger brother was born and we relocated from New York to Texas. This move ended my visits with my birth father. With the exception of a handful of trips to New York, I don’t remember having a substantial relationship with my father before I was a teenager.

As I reflect on our history, it boggles my mind how much his absence affected me and influenced how I engage men in romantic relationships. One might think that I would not be seeking something that I never received but in my mind, I had created a fantasy about what it would be like if my father and I ever reconnected. This fantasy became a reality when my mother and step-father divorced. This was a traumatic time in my life that was overshadowed by the fact that my birth parents were reuniting and would eventually get married. I found myself in a broken state; one where I struggled with the loss of a relationship with my step-father, who had raised me and, at the same time, trying to be happy about the return of my birth father who I really didn’t know. It was a difficult time for everyone involved. I learned very quickly that the life I had envisioned with my birth father would not become a reality.

I had a revelation yesterday. It was actually quite painful but simultaneously liberating. Nothing I could ever become, say or do would engender the affirming and uplifting response that I so desperately seek from my father. And you know what? That’s my issue, not his. I have to come to terms with the fact that I have been looking for that which is life-giving in the wrong place, from the wrong person. For my sanity’s sake, I have to let go of this overwhelming desire to be “approved” of by my father. I am a thirty one year old woman who is finally letting go of something that has not served me well. I am choosing, on this day, that my self worth and identity will not be based on any external factors, particularly those that perpetuate negative and harmful ways of being.

I have never been the proverbial “Daddy’s little girl”. Nor will I ever be. And it’s not necessary that I am. For the first time in my life, I realize how important it is for me to create a new narrative, one that takes into account who I am and have been created to be, first and foremost by God.

I pray that I am able to remember that God created me and simply said, “It is good.”

I pray that my self worth and self esteem will no longer be based on what others think and that I will embrace that I am enough.

I pray that I am able to be in relationship with my father in a way that honors who we both are and leaves room for who we are not.

Love,

Me

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Rediscovering My Soul Through the Power of the Pole

I have no desire to be a stripper. Many people reading this will recoil when they realize that this is a post about my experience with pole dancing. Yes, I am writing about this and am unashamed. If you are offended, I suggest you stop reading right now.

After my husband and I separated, I felt like shit. Pure and simple. I felt like a failure. I felt like no one could ever love me. I could barely look at myself in the mirror. I began to realize that this shame and hatred I carried inside truly affected how I viewed myself. What was more startling was the realization that I don’t know that I loved myself before my marriage. How could I be in the most intimate relationship with someone and not even love who I was?

These reflections actually went a step further. I was disconnected from my body – from my thoughts, my feelings and my flesh. I’ve spoken about my thoughts in another post. Embracing My Shadow deals with my feelings. But today, I want to talk about my disgust of my flesh and how this led to a massive disconnect that not only impacted my marriage, but also my identity. Believe it or not, pole dancing went a long way in helping me love what God created….

I don’t know if it begin with my history of molestation. I don’t know if it began with the teasing for looking different and being different when I was younger. I don’t know if it began with my first sexual encounters and experiences with the opposite sex. I don’t know if it was the messages I got from my father and other sources that said I must be pure, holy, and untouched and knowing that I wasn’t any of these things, at least not in the ways they meant them. I don’t know if it began with my mother’s attitude towards sex and femininity. What I do know is that there were moments when I thought that my body was disgusting. This carried over into adulthood and I’m sure it was a factor in my ongoing depression. Along with other issues, the way I viewed my body and sexuality had a negative effect on my marriage.

I feel like I was always struggling to find out who I was, what I wanted, what I liked and what I should feel. These feelings were complicated by the mixed messages from church and my faith about sex and sexuality. I’ll write more on that later….

So fast forward to six months after I separated from my husband. I was hanging on by a thread and looking for ways to deal with my reality. I was emerging from a depressive episode and was seeking forms of healing and support. I also needed to start exercising. A few friends of mine had talked about pole dancing and I was like, why not? I am not an adventurous person but I felt like it was time to confront some fears, stereotypes and assumptions. So I signed up for Pole Dancing Level 1 with the amazing PoleLaTeaz studio.

My first class I was so nervous. I arrived thirty minutes early and sat in the parking lot wondering what in the hell I was getting myself into. I finally got up the courage to walk into the studio and was immediately surprised by what I found. The atmosphere was lovely, the receptionist was hospitable, there were women who looked like me sitting and waiting for our class to begin. I took a seat and said hello to the woman on my right. I could tell that we were all nervous. The receptionist could tell that this was our first pole dancing experience. I think she could smell our fear.

When the time came, we were led back to Studio A to meet our instructor. The studio was very much like a dance studio except for the fact that there were eight gleaming gold poles that went from floor to ceiling. There were mats in the corner and the front wall was totally comprised of mirrors. There would be no hiding from myself. At all.

The first thing we did was sit in a circle and introduce ourselves. At this point, some of my anxiety began to ease. I heard stories from women like me – professional, divorced, seeking confidence, nervous about being here – and I realized in that moment that I was about to begin a sacred journey. Yes, sacred. As the instructor gave more information about the class and our curriculum over the next eight weeks, I knew that I was in the right place at the right time.

Pole dancing forced me to look at myself, at my WHOLE self. I learned to appreciate my body. I learned to not be ashamed of what God created. I learned that my body was capable of doing more physically than I ever imagined. I am 150 pounds – yes I shared that – and had to lift and swing and hold my body up. Talk about weight training!! There were days when the instructor would turn down the lights and we were told to just look at ourselves. To see who we really are and notice the beauty. I got to know this group of women who were so empowering and supportive. We created a safe place to share our deepest fears, concerns and hopes. It was amazing to see how each week, we got a little closer, grew more confident and literally shed clothing. We began as fully covered women hiding ourselves and ended as confident women who realized that one could not pole dance in sweats. Let’s just say it’s an occupational hazard and one needs to be able to have skin to pole contact in order to stay up. 🙂

The end of the course culminated in individual performances that we shared with the group. We had learned a routine but we got to choose our costumes and music and yes, even a name. I never thought I would be able to dance by myself in front of a group but I did it! I felt so empowered! The community was so supportive and I can honestly say that it was an experience I will never forget.

One day in particular stands out to me. I was at the studio working on some techniques before class and an instructor came to me and said, “You’re thinking too much. I can tell that you know the move, but you get to point of letting go and you over-think it. Just let go and trust yourself.” This advice was so powerful and I realized that pole dancing was a form of therapy for me. I rediscovered my soul through the power of the pole.

This experience was about so much more than the act of dancing. It was about learning to love my WHOLE self and learning to let go. It began a process of healing that I so desperately needed.

This might not be the thing for you. I am so thankful for this experience. My prayer is that you take a chance and do something that could transform you like never before. My prayer is that you find motivation somewhere that pushes you to embrace your whole self. My prayer is that you realize that you were made by God and that God said “It is good.”

Love,

Me

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You is Smart. You is Kind. You is Important.

One of the things I’ve learned through therapy and meditation is the importance of affirmations. It may seem kind of corny, but I am now a woman who has taken to writing positive words and phrases in lipstick on my mirror. It helps. Seriously.

One of my therapists used to challenge me to confront my negative thoughts and question their validity. I was then instructed to replace them with positive thoughts, ones that spoke to my goodness, my giftedness and my worthiness. There are still days when I struggle to do this and I am thankful for the people in my life who remind me to be kind to myself. Hence the mirror writing – it speaks to me when I don’t have the words or thoughts to speak to myself.

One friend brought me to tears when she quoted an affirmation from the movie The Help. In a poignant scene, the main character shares with the child that she cares for how important the little girl is and implores her to remember her words, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” In a very dark moment this friend repeated these words to me. They made me smile, but more importantly, they reminded me of something my mind was trying to destroy.

Affirmations have been a significant part of my healing and I am an advocate for them and the practice of repeating positive phrases. I believe that there are so many negative messages in the world and if we are not speaking positivity and light into our lives, we perpetuate those things and attitudes that threaten to destroy us.

I am smart. I am kind. I am important. I am loved. I am gifted. I am caring. I am good just the way I am. What are some words and phrases that you can use to remind you that you are amazing?

My prayer for you is that you can begin to see the goodness within.

My prayer is that you affirm others and remind them of their goodness.

My prayer is that the power of affirmations takes over the darkness and negativity in the world.

Love,

Me

Affirmations