Sometimes People are Assholes, Even Buddhists

While stretching this morning I got into a bit of an esoteric conversation, as I do, with one of my fellow gym rats. I'm not sure how it even came up, but he brought up revolving mental thoughts, shit going round and round in a continuous loop which afflicts a portion of the human population, driving us mad. Certainly a topic I understand well and have written about before, though that was 6 years ago and I've only just started understanding how to actually let the buggers go! Jesus, that affirms what I've suspected is the hardest part about dealing with life issues and making positive changes, mainly that knowing 'what' I need to do to be happier and more serene is easy. The crux is figuring out the 'how' and actually implementing those changes in a meaningful way so that they are sustainable; 6 bloody years?! Inside I'm laughing though, it's actually funny how frustrated I feel and by the end of this article I hope it's obvious why I find that comical.

Something to ponder ...... read on.

I'll admit I'm deep down the emotional healing rabbit-hole at present, and I intend to stay there because the fundamental changes that have transpired as a result are well worth the effort. By effort I mean terrifying confrontations about myself, my past and who I authentically am, meditation, trusting my intuition, daily journaling, walking around Mount Taranaki and tears; lots and lots of tears. Oh, and the odd bought of swearing so profusely that anyone overhearing me might assume I have turrets syndrome. Eager to show off my new and improved way of life I told my gym buddy that those thoughts would cycle until he let them out, talked about them. He said he was and I pointed out that all he was talking about was their presence, not what they actually were, to which he responded that he couldn't; it wasn't an acceptable subject to discuss. Uh huh, exactly! In his head those thoughts will remain until he's willing to let them go. When I suggested he explore that notion and talk to a trusted friend, he mentioned that's what dogs were for, and sure, whoever or whatever, just talk it out!

From there I mentioned that I talk to my car a lot, telling him about the epic time I released a hell of a lot of anger about my ex-partner and his family. With tears and an extremely liberal use of the term 'a pack of C*#$s', I finally got to vent the injustice I felt during that relationship and expressed my emotions in a safe environment. Afterward I even thanked Raven for her help in soaking up the shit-storm of emotions. My friend gave me a look I'm all too familiar with: 'What is this crazy bitch on about?' He went on to explain that when we think of others as assholes, we need to realise that we're actually the jerks; that it is our response to these people and experiences that is the issue, not the people themselves.

Raven is always happy to let me beat of her steering wheel. That's love.

Hmmmm, I'm familiar with this line of thinking; it's Buddhist. During said ex-relationship I sought a way to calm the fighting in my head so that I'd stop fighting my partner by visiting a Buddhist centre every week to gain some clarity and serenity. This ideal, that it is our response to issues that are the actual issue, made sense to me and I strove to embed it into my life. It even felt empowering because I had the control, I had the ability to control my emotions! Or not. I'd fail time and again, things my partner said and did continued to send me through the roof. Afterwards I'd beat myself up for getting upset. Seriously, I left black and blue marks on my self esteem I felt so much shame. Why couldn't I just keep it in and be calm?! I thought there was something wrong with me. Given my turbulent childhood and accumulation of mental health labels, it was certainly easy to believe. Who in their right mind would want to be with me? I was horribly flawed and broken.

Now, having done the work I've done in the emotional space, I proudly declare this sentiment is pure and utter bullshit. It never sat well with me then and now I understand why; it encourages us to suppress our emotions at best, and blame ourselves for feeling anything but calm and serene at worst. Both of which result in decreased self worth and a lack of trust in our emotions and intuition. Every emotion has a function, and when our emotions say 'they're being a dick!' it's to help us slow down and question the situation; to ask 'am I staying true to who I am and what I want?' In the case of relationships the fear of being alone usually keeps us where we, inspiring feelings of entrapment and disempowerment which results in a decreased sense of worth; perpetuating the vicious cycle.

Let me be quite clear, I'm not saying that we shouldn't take responsibility for our emotions. Feeling emotions does not mean we necessarily express our emotions. This is a central concept of Emotional Intelligence, and probably what the Buddhists were actually trying to convey. Our response to triggers and stimuli do, indeed, need to be carefully assessed, questioned, held up to the light for examination and re-assembled to take out any unnecessary baggage from our pasts. Otherwise we'll end up shooting a McDonald's employee for giving us Coke instead of Diet Coke because that is what suppressed anger looks like after 40 years. Not pretty. I'll own that I chose to be with that particular person. I chose to stay in that particular situation because I was in love. Besides, who else was going to love me? So yes, my responses were the issue because I chose to ignore the emotions that were actually warning signs that I shouldn't continue the path I was on, that I was unhappy and devaluing myself by assuming that I was the broken one. Yet I lacked the courage and security in myself to leave.

Honestly, I thought I could fix myself and keep it all bottled up in my head the way my friend does until I read a book that convinced me otherwise (listed below). The book insisted that we had to share our 'shame stories' to work our shit out. When I first read that theory something inside me recoiled. Stuff that! I could handle my own issues in-house without infecting others with my bullshit! Well guess what, if I could it bloody well wouldn't have taken me more 6 years to make this much progress in my meandering personal development journey. Especially considering I thought I had it 'all figured out.' The only thing I'm certain of now is that the more I know, the less intelligent I feel. Why? It's a bit like reaching the top of one summit only to discover all the other summits I must cross that I didn't even know existed! The difference is my mindset. Before I would've cried in despair, now I laugh and feel grateful for more adventure.

Kevin Biggar's Definition of Adventure. I love it!

My lifestyle and general demeanour almost certainly appear crazy. In fact, I distinctly remember rattling off the various mental illness diagnoses I've received throughout my life with a friend, followed by my assertion that I've never felt more sane despite these stigmas. I then followed it up with a hearty helping of maniacal laughter. Oh yes, to others I must seem quite twisted! Whole, authentic and worthy, not to mention infinitely less anxious, is how I actually feel. My whacky way of life basically involves allowing myself to feel whatever and however I feel without trying to justify it or beating myself with a naughty stick because others may not like it; I choose to defy social standards and conditions so I can stay true to myself. It's not easy, it takes conscious effort each and every day. But if appearing nutty is the price I have to pay, done deal! Hell, I'll pay double! The relief from a lifetime of bottled up stress and suppressed emotions is priceless, not to mention the profound elevation of my self esteem. I now invite all of my emotions, the good, the bad and the ugly. They are all signals that I need attention, just as physical pain cues me to the fact that I'm hurt and need healing. All or our emotions and feelings deserve consideration, compassion and celebration; they teach us what we like and what we don't like, how secure we feel in ourselves or how afraid, they outline our boundaries.

We were born to feel, to be human, so live!

Emotional Healing Resources:
The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown
- This book has actually inspired a series of articles I'm working on at present about self-worth; consider this article the preface and stay tuned.

The Dark Side of the Light Chasers by Debbie Ford
- I've only just started reading this book, but it's already shifting a lot of rock!

Side Note on Humility: There used to be a point in time when I'd rather slash my wrists with a dull and rusty butter knife than read 'self-help' books. I had my issues, but I was strong dammit! A fighter! Oh, I was a fighter all right, but the only person I was fighting was myself and that's a lose-lose situation. Every living breathing human has issues with their emotions, it's a consequence of the human condition. Suck it up, read this stuff. What's the worst that could happen?

What it Looks Like

Fuck. It’s happening again; please not again. Son of a bitch. What does it mean? Am I still broken? Haven’t I worked hard to change? To heal the damage? How the fuck did this happen? I promised myself a while ago that I’d never fight again; it wasn’t worth it. Now, I stand in the bathroom, reflect; I need to breath, to think.

A day centered around me, perfectly planned to fuel me for the next day’s event; the type of support I’ve often given but have never received. I knew it was too good to be true. But it had been such an amazing day, I even challenged old conditions and pushed beyond old uncomfortable boundaries for the very first time. I had been winning, so why was I now losing the plot? A surprise guest? No, that didn’t bother me. I knew him to be a social bloke and was genuinely pleased to see him happy. A kink in a day designed for me? Not precisely, but getting warmer. The unexpected food smack in the middle of my articulately planned meal schedule? Bingo. We had a winner.

I was mad, but I lied and said I wasn’t. Yet another old habit of supressing anger, afraid it would inspire feelings which would ultimately lead him to reject me. Wasn’t I worth a day? Hadn’t the plan been his idea? Just yesterday I suggested some changes and that seemed to upset him, so why could he now change them without consideration of my feelings? Shouldn’t I stand up for myself? I have done the work dammit, I fully comprehend the repercussions of continuing those old thought patterns and not taking care of my own needs; resulting in continuous vicious cycles. I won’t do that to myself, not anymore. Not for him, not for anyone.

Tense words past between us as I attempted to convey the millions of conflicting thoughts swirling around in my brain. I did a shit job of it; there was too much to process, everything was happening too fast. The brakes were failing. He joined his friend and left me alone. I’m always left alone. Old trigger, old response. I’ll leave, that’s what I do; flee, fuck off, run. “Stay” I heard a tiny voice inside me say. I ignored it, packed up some stuff and went to the car, but where were my keys? “Stay.” I become confused, disoriented; another old sensation. I recognized the signs, the stress had depleted my blood sugar. I couldn’t think, my emotions were spiralling out of control; the irony of trying to escape from the very thing I needed; both physically and emotionally.

“Stay.” Where the fuck were my keys? I went inside to find them; I must have looked insane. He asked me what I was doing. I don’t remember what I said, just walked away. I felt his hurt, his anger. “Stay.” For him the plan hadn’t changed, it had only been improved. He didn’t understand the broken connection in my brain that I’d only just begun to repair. A repair currently being tested; like a new fuse being pushed to its maximum amps, smoking, threatening to blow under the weight of the situation. Could it handle it? Would it hold?

Back at the car I realized the keys had been there the whole time; under normal circumstances that would have made me laugh. “Stay.” I broke down into tears. All the thoughts flooded me at once, the dam burst. I heard myself say “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” understood it sounded dependent and desperate, but it was actually a cry to the Universe for help. I’d been on my own for 87.9% of my life. For the first time I had hope that I could balance my need for freedom with my authentic desire for a healthy, mutually beneficial, relationship; a partnership. For the first time I thought I was ready, but here I was again. Broken. “Stay.” Louder now. I asked, “Are you sure?” In the past the voice always told me to run but I’d fight to stay, eventually to my own detriment. It’s never actually told me to stay; can I trust it? “Stay.” But he’s mad at me, he thinks I’m crazy, he won’t want me anymore; he’ll see me as broken, just like the others. A toy that was fun for a while, but not worth keeping.

“Stay.” Where will I find the courage to challenge those old patterns? The false conditions that previously led me to self-destruct in similar situations? “You are worth it; Trust yourself. Everything will work out; Trust me. Just Stay.” Inspired by an energy my brain couldn’t comprehend, I wiped the tears from my face. I didn’t look at him as I walked up the drive for the third time. I went inside, put some things away and took three deep breaths. “You’re almost there.” I went outside to join them; still too embarrassed to look at him. Without a word he got up to get me a chair, placed it beside him and seamlessly integrated me into their conversation. I sat, ate something, had a chat; recovered. The rest of the night went precisely to plan, right down to the minute.

Dear Amanda

Hey Sis,

I can't believe it's been 10 years since we last spoke on your 25th birthday. I'll always remember that conversation and your hilarious comment about Grandpa being so racist that he'd shout at the TV when a black person won on The Price is Right. Writing this letter is something I've thought about for a long time, but just couldn't get the balls to write it. No one in our family has ever dealt with emotional pain well, always opting for some drug, alcohol or food to avoid our feelings and ease our broken minds. The day Mom called to tell me you were dead was the worst day of my life, everything in me went cold and numb. I'm not sure how I made it through the following days, I just remember being weirded out by Mom and Dad standing next to each other at your funeral, Sarah and I knew you'd have felt the same.  Oddly I don't feel much different or older since we last talked but holy shit have things changed! You'd absolutely shit yourself if you could see me now; I'd also like to think you'd be really proud of me.

The 22 year old graduate student you left behind, morbidly obese with a sedentary life and shitty eating habits, drunk more often than not, and a mean streak like a viper; she's totally changed. It took place so gradually I'm not even sure how the hell it happened. Things got worse before they got better. When you first left I kind of lost my shit and took to getting utterly wasted and being reckless, laughing madly as I drove around Denver knowing full well that I was compromising everything I had, my license, my degree, my freedom and even my life; I didn't care and it scared me.

I want to sincerely thank you, Amanda. Your death caused a couple of shifts that I'll be forever grateful for; mostly that it brought me closer to Sarah and made me take stock of my own life. It reminded me that no one knows how much time they've got left and if there's something we want to do we'd better damn-well get on with it. At some point all the times I felt disgusted with myself and my body became too much so I decided to lose weight but went on a bit of a different diet than you did, though everyone believed I'd just become addicted to crack too, hahaha. The first time Mom saw me after I'd lost about half the weight she couldn't hug me because I looked so much like you. Everyone at the bar back home kept mistaking me for you as well, which gave me mixed feelings of shame and pride. Still more years of seemingly endless trial and error in the pursuit of happiness led me through countless changes; I left my PhD program, spent some time with a guy I thought I'd marry (I'll spare you those details!), moved to Kansas of all places, burned through many jobs low and high from McDonald's to Pharmaceutical Management, and finally found myself in New Zealand where I finally figured out how I could find peace and happiness within myself, or at least as much as I'm likely to obtain. You'll never believe it but I'm a health and fitness coach, personal trainer and Pilates instructor! I can almost hear you saying, "what the fuck is pilates?!"

The ASS Sisters: Amanda, Summer and Sarah

Sometimes I miss you so bad it stops me in my tracks, a distinct pain I feel in my chest. I'll look at a phone and want to call you, hear your voice. I unexpectedly found a couple of letters you had written me from jail a few years ago; I read them from time to time, laugh at your horrible spelling and smile at your descriptions of jailhouse antics. Mostly I wonder what you would say, so many things things have drastically changed in this crazy world since you left, no doubt it would involve copious amounts of swearing. I'm sorry for the times your addictions made me distance myself from you. As I get older and become more aware of my own mental demons, I can't imagine how badly you suffered and feel comforted by the fact that wherever you or, you're better off there then you were here. I keep my share of you and your many body piercings in a pretty blue bag that hangs on my wall; I bet you never thought you'd live in New Zealand! Luckily the people at customs didn't notice I had illegal ashes in my pack. You'd be happy to know you slightly resemble cocaine now, and Sarah and I used to joke that you'd snort yourself if you were here.

I think what scares me the most now is that all I have are memories which no doubt have been distorted over time, but since you were a pathological liar I doubt you'd have an issue with that, haha. What's real are my memories of the odd combination of cold metal and soft lips when you'd kiss my cheek as well as your voice; how it sounded when you said "You are my heart, I love you Summie" so many times that night you were drunk and high, and I had brought my ultimate frisbee team up from Rochester for a game in Canada. I was so fucking embarrassed then, but I'm thankful now that it was burned into my brain.

I'm not sure when we'll meet again or what our bodies will look like, but I look forward to the day I'll recognise your Soul and smile, probably as you slap me for some reason or another.

Love You Sis,
Summie

Squirrel Radio: The Ordeal

Link to all articles linked to The Ordeal

Squirrel Radio: Ho Ho Ho, The Christmas Edition

Squirrel Radio: Catch Up

Squirrel Radio: The Experiment Results #4... Hormones, Yay

Squirrel Radio: Experiment Results #3 ... Getting Into The Real Stuff

Squirrel Radio: Experiment Results #2 ... Definitely

Squirrel Radio: Experiment Results #1 .... Kinda

Squirrel Radio: The Experiment

Detox Article

Squirrel Radio: The Nut Doctor Is In!

Original Article Link

Squirrel Radio: Easy 'No Doz' It

Link to Original Article

Life Principles: Introduction

Reading even a handful of my blog articles illustrates that I've had my share of struggles with anxiety, panic attacks, and addiction in the elusive forms of an obsession with control and an eating disorder. To put it bluntly, I experience mental illness. From time to time the chemicals in my brain become unbalanced due to stress or others factors beyond my cognitive control. In the past when this happened I fell off the wagon and spiralled down into a dark place where, in the clutches of madness, I destroyed both myself and my relationships. I'm open and honest with these issues with the intent of helping others who may need a bit of guidance regarding how to appropriately disconnect from similar compulsive thoughts and behaviours in their own lives, and come to accept their own mania. Understand that I don't have the ultimate answer as everyone's journey of healing takes a different form, but I do Know the principles I implemented served to change the person I was into the person that I am; one who has a more robust method for navigating these rough patches so that I can protect myself and, most importantly, my support network. I can state proudly, and with absolute confidence, that I am a completely different person; I've not experienced a full-blown panic attack in almost three years. It takes constant reinforcement and practice, but preserving my sanity and cultivating loving, lasting relationships is more than worth the effort. This work has allowed me to first accept, and then unconditionally love who I am, despite my past experiences and proclivity for flipping my shit. My method is simple: Replace negative thoughts and behaviours, whether anxious, depressed, addictive or rage-sodden in nature, with more positive, constructive and healthy habits. Ones that expand the distance between the person that is and the new and improved version that is being created. 

I therefore propose a series I'm calling "Life Principles," which will deconstruct and explain the ideals that have effected my own personal growth. Principles I have changed throughout the years to suite my particular needs in the present, but repeat multiple times a day, everyday, to keep me balanced and hold the madness at bay. These principles were collected across a plethora of both spiritual and scientific based literature. I also transcended the 12-Steps of AA, which I've mentioned in a previous and rather brilliant article, recognising its undisputed reputation to heal an addictive Mind. My issue was not alcohol, but replace alcohol with anxious thoughts or a need to control and it is clear that I am a tried and true addict nonetheless. Admittedly, some of these concepts are deeply spiritual and flat-out strange to someone without a High Power, so people should pick and choose as they see fit and interpret these principles through their own filter. I'm not about to judge anyones' beliefs or speculate that a Higher Power is necessary to make these changes. Again, everyones' path is different and I did not start off as spiritual as I have become, but I must concede that spirituality served to deepen my experience and sense of empowerment. Regardless, the only things a person truly need to address their mental illness in whatever form it presents itself is an understanding of the underlying issue, a sincere desire to change and the steadfast belief that they hold the courage, power and determination to effect that change. Be well, be happy.

At first I debated listing my principles, wanting to harbour them and keep them secret; the result of all my hard work. They likely won't make sense to others as they are part of my four year spiritual journey. I've decided to state them here, however, with the promise of explaining their meaning (to me) in further detail in subsequent articles. For now read them, give them meaning and use them to practice where relevant and as needed.

I accept my feelings, and I know they will change.

I celebrate emotions and appreciate their beauty.

I manifest love and happiness.

I make conscious decisions to act with an intention of love.

I expect nothing.

I know that worrying, obsessing and controlling are illusions.

I am patient and accept my lack of control.

I operate on God time.

I let go of who I was a and love who I am.

Squirrel Radio: Break Ups and Identities

Definition: Patience

Patience: Awareness and acceptance that one has no control over the external components of their life; most notably, those matters pertaining to other People.

A recent experience led me to contemplate this, for me, extremely elusive quality. I've touched on my internal struggle with Patience in previous articles, but it wasn't until I realized the true nature of this trait that it dawned on me why it seems to remain slightly out of my reach. Critically, patience requires a complete acceptance that I do not, and can not, control anything in my life that is outside of my own thoughts, emotions and actions. Simply put, damn near every aspect of life. 'Shit' happens, and the only thing I can control is how I interpret that 'shit', how I feel about that 'shit' and how I decide to act as a result of that 'shit'.  Acting with patience requires acceptance, which is a quality even more elusive to me than patience! I, like most people and particularly Adult Children of Alcoholics and Americans in general, find a lack of control down-right intolerable. In the past to muster up some patience in a disagreeable situation I've often found myself repeating the Serenity Prayer, especially the bit about "accept(ing) the things I cannot change," those which lay beyond my control.

Indeed, a secondary definition of patience might state: Being content and finding serenity in an otherwise uncomfortable situation. Still more interesting in that a listed synonym for patience is self-control, because a patient person understands and accepts that that is the only form of control they possess.

As an example let's visualize some situations that illustrate patience; parents smiling as their children scream hysterically for reasons they can't begin to fathom, a person contentedly chatting to the 30 people in front of them in the DMV line (and whom also didn't lose their shit when they are inevitably told once they are next that they've filled out the wrong forms or were waiting in the wrong line all together), a Gen-X'er attempting to show their parents or grandparents how to copy/paste internet links or find a video on YouTube.  These people have an admirably high tolerance to the influence of other peoples' emotions and actions, nor do they allow themselves to be victimized or held hostage by these stimuli. A small yet significant subset of the World's population, these people are my fucking idols. 

Conversely we can easily think of examples of the opposite scenario, which is unfortunately also much more common. The person getting pissed off at the grocery check out because the clerk failed to enter a sale price properly, someone irate with a barista who accidentally made a latte instead of a cappuccino, the scumbag in Wal-Mart dragging their kid along by their T-shirt as the kid screams something about wanting a candy bar. 

Warning, in true Squirrel fashion I'm about to take this in a completely different direction. Ok, I'll admit it; I got dumped. In an attempt to figure out what the fuck happened I contemplated some of the issues that kept coming up, and the road blocks that ultimately led us to realize the relationship just was not going to work out. I thought perhaps if I could've been more patient, moved slower and learned to be more relaxed, I could have made the relationship work. My problem was that the guy did not seem to want to spend time with me. By his own admission he was a time-selfish person, and since I'm much the same I didn't think it would cause an insurmountable obstacle. This characteristic, however, came to make me feel rejected, confused and resentful. I told myself I was too needy, expected too much and would ruin the relationship because I couldn't relax and accept that I had no right to control how someone else chose to spend their time. For me once I heard "I love you" there should have been a commitment to incorporate into each others lives; a critical difference in our way of thinking and how we expressed love. Everyone told me that I needed to take it slow and be patient. I fought against everything I was feeling instead of just accepting my emotions and feeling secure in who I was and what I needed in a relationship. I'm not a relaxed person, for me patience and acceptance are a process that require time and practice; skills to be honed since they are not inherent to my nature. Instead of supporting and loving myself through that process, I denied my needs and lost my sense of identity (I'll discuss this topic in detail in an episode of Squirrel Radio). This was neither my fault nor his, we just weren't compatible in our relationship needs and/or had different concepts of what constitutes a committed relationship.

What I have come to realize is that patience does not mean moving slowly in an relationship, it means accepting that I have no control over how slowly someone else moves or their other emotional needs. Yet honouring my own needs is paramount and it likewise requires patience; I have no control over where they came from, I just know now that if I deny them my normal happy and loving Self becomes compromised. For a relationship to truly last, these needs should be naturally sated by both people. Though relationships require work and maintenance, efforts being shared equally, I learned that if it feels like something is being forced it's not going to work and that is OK. Sometimes love is simply not enough.

Relationships aside, I've always recognized the usefulness of implementing this quality into my personality; who wouldn't want to act as a serene example amongst a background of chaos? Providing an unrelenting positive example for other Humans to witness, rely on, admire, and hopefully, pay forward. While going through my first transformation in early 2012 I came to understand that my life goals where to learn humility and patience through this Human experience. Well, I've been kicked in the balls by life enough now, mostly in the form of tempering my addict and anxiety driven mental illness, to have learned humility (for the most part, but damn, I do have a lot of kick-ass qualities too!); but I admittedly gave up on the patience component, thinking it wasn't that important after all. Wrong! I now recognize that relent was my inability to surrender control, and I'm thankful for this new perspective so that I can re-attempt the lesson from a different angle.

Though it doesn't come naturally to me, I can learn to possess and embody patience, at least to the degree to which I am capable. It will be extremely difficult, require constant conscious decision-making and continual acceptance to break my old behavioural habits. Remaining serene when what I really want to do is put my foot through a wall or yell at someone to hurry the fuck up is no easy task. Reacting is much easier than choosing to act differently. Yet I'm optimistic that the change will be well worth my effort; especially if it allows me to cultivate healthy relationships, letting them evolve organically instead of forcing them past their innate boundaries. Critically, I want patience with my own emotions and needs. The ability to accept them and let them flow instead of telling myself that I have unreasonable expectations. I am who I am, a pretty, smart, funny, honest, emotional, work in progress; and protecting that inner unconditional love is the only way to ensure that I can give it to someone else.

Squirrel Radio: Shit's Gettin' Real

Links:
Leaving America Part 1
Leaving America Part 2

Thought of the Day 18-Jul-15: I Could Be The One

I just seriously think everyone should see this video. Wow, just wow.

Thought of the Day 02-Jul-15: Conjuring The Patronus

While talking to a dear friend and colleague yesterday I made an analogy that I thought so fitting that I feel compelled to share the notion in hopes it can empowers others. This friend and I relate on the topic of anxiety and depression and as they'd recently needed to alter their neuropathic pain medication recently, they experienced a bout they described as 'thinking its never going to get better.' That definitely hit home with me.

There were three times in my life when my chronic anxiety led to perpetual panic and, effectively, nervous breakdowns. I wrote about finding ways to deal with these episodes previously, and hilariously I might add. So, as we discussed this bleak sentiment and the sheer horror, terror and hopelessness that it manifests, an image immediately came to mind that was perfectly fitting. I said, 'it must be what it feels like to be around a Dementor,' and she agreed as we giggled about being dorky Harry Potter fans. I sincerely hope that many people who read this article don't understand what I'm attempting to describe, but most Humans feel this way to some extent or another at some point during their life. Those plagued by chronic emotional disorders certainly know it all too well. It's the feeling that the clouds above are so thick that the sun will never shine again, or an endless darkness that will never lift. It's a though happiness has never been felt before, nor will it ever be felt again. Worst of all, there seems to be no way to improve or alter this forlorn state. Unmitigated destitution.

Ooooohhhh, scary!

Naturally the next step, taking the Harry Potter theme a step further, is to ask: What is my Patronus? Who or what can I think of or remember during those times of utter darkness that will begin to gleam some light through? How can I tap into my inner power to blast away that fog and kick that Dementors ass?! I know my answer, but everyone needs to have an answer for themselves. It may take some trial and error to discover the answer, yet evoking ones' Patronus is perhaps the most beneficial practice one can do for emotional fortitude.

Rrrahh, badass!

Happily I could actually feel (my ability as an Empath, a future article I'm currently working on) the positive energy begin to flow back out of my friend as their medication began to work again and the fog began to clear; resetting to their natural optimistic state. And though for some medications are an essential tool that their Patronus wields to defeat the Dementor that's upon them, that foundation of positive energy that one can conjure despite the negative forces surrounding them is crucial to their emotional stability and state of happiness in this world. 

Definition: Insecurities

Insecurities: Those traits, whether physical or emotional, which serve to remind someone that they are not yet the person they wish to be and/or make them feel broken. An open wound in the Soul, exposed for all the world to see. 

It's typically quite easy to identify the insecurities of others since we lash out in pain when someone pokes at these wounds. They is a plethora of typical insecurities, such as a lack of wealth or education, or a any number of mental and/or physical ailments. People tend to avoid situations where they fear these insecurities may rear their ugly heads. Worst still, many people are completely unaware that they possess such insecurities; using their ignorance of their own shortcomings as an excuse to treat others poorly who do not, or can not, hide their deficiencies. When it comes to insecurities, a little self-awareness goes a long way. Since I'm painfully self-aware, allow me to share one of my worst as I analyze its toxic effects on my self-esteem.

Admittedly, I have many insecurities. Ironically, these are the things I talk about them most, as if I'm begging others to excuse them or to attempt to make others understand that they are not baseless, fearful of their inevitable judgement. The Confessional mentioned my fear that I'm chronically unable to have a normal loving relationship for several reasons. Additionally, fear of codependency, shame of my American background, mental illness concerns related to my addiction to control, extremism, eating disorder and constant anxiety constantly plague my thoughts. Still more profound, these insecurities compound which ultimately lead to low self esteem, making self acceptance difficult and self-love nigh on impossible.  Indeed, I have only to analyze a statement I've repeated to myself a million times over to convey this sentiment: "What mother would want her son to bring home a barren foul-mouthed American covered in tattoos?!" 

Is that really the image I have of myself? Sadly, it is. Granted, I don't mind my swearing or tattoos, but looking through the eyes of another, it's easy to see than these deficiencies would make me an undesirable daughter-in-law. I've often told the men I'm with that they should find someone better, yet I never truly understood why I thought this way. Last night, however, I realized that there is one wound in particular which has scared me worst than all of the others combined, a wound I'm not sure will ever truly heal; my inability to have children. Oddly, this insecurity does not bother me specifically; I seriously do not want children for many reasons, and I'm steadfast in this resolve. The wound opens when I see its impact on my self esteem and my ability to consider myself deserving of love. Simply put, I will never allow myself to be with a man who wants children. Great men deserve to have children, thus the logic follows that I am not worthy of great men. Unfortunately, for various reasons, I think almost all men are great. 

The confidence I seemed to have mustered when I wrote about Child Rearing becomes compromised when I realize that I'll very likely be alone in this life; especially when talk of such things with potential future partners reminds me of this physical deficiency. Some days facing a lifetime of purely superficial relationships is comforting, others it's terrifying. I didn't ask to go through menopause at 25, nor did I want cervical cancer to rid me of half my baby plug. Nevertheless, it's my reality. Worst yet, I don't know what worries me more, that I feel this inability makes me an unworthy partner, or that I'm immensely relieved that I'll never have children. My potential partners deserve a life including children as much as I deserve one without them. I was hoping to find someone who would be so sated by the happiness with all aspects of their life, as I am, that they would not feel the need to procreate; but some days I reminded that this is extremely unlikely. 

Until such a day I get a grip on this topic, however, I will do what I've always done: rely in a wide circle of dear friends (largely consisting of men and girls who aren't girlie), each of whom I will shower with the immense amount of love and energy I have to give. So long as I maintain these alliances, the loneliness stays within the range of non-existent to tolerable.