Trying to express the internal problems

There has been some talk lately on social media about reaching out to your strong friends because sometimes it’s the ones who seem the strongest who are struggling with things that aren’t spoken. The surprising, high-profile examples of suicide recently have meant a bit more awareness. People who, on the surface, seem happy and comfortable and full of life, but internally are struggling with deep wounds and insecurities that don’t get expressed easily.

I came across a video on Facebook from Mental Health on The Mighty that showed phrases kids said that were code words for “I’m anxious.” These are various ways that kids expressed anxiety and fear using the resources they had at their disposal. I can relate to many of them.

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Peace starts with interior change, not external Band-aids

More school shootings. More bomb threats. More mass killings. More lives lost. More fear and confusion. An ever increasing sense of wondering “How did we get here?” and “Why is our world so crazy these days?”

There is so much pain, addiction, brokenness, fear, doubt, anger, loneliness, depression, confusion, instability, mental health concerns, anxiety, and countless other problems plaguing our country and the world right now.

We need to see people as people. Treat them as people. As fellow human beings. Welcome them. Embrace them. Love them. Open up communication and dialogue rather than increasing the isolation, rather than pointing fingers and ignoring.

How to be supportive

Sometimes people need suggestions for how they can be supportive and help. I know from personal experience how easy it is to get hung up on the idea that you have to say something to show support. You don’t. Not at all. Often times just being fully present and listening is exactly what the other person needs.

 

Living in your head can promote insecurity

In the months between getting laid off from my job and moving to Alabama in August (I did apply for the fellowship and was accepted), I did a lot of journal writing.

I filled four notebooks (averaging 70 pages each) in a matter of six months. Yes, I lived with pen and paper. So while I’m grateful to have some documentation of what I was going through at the time — what I felt, my worries and fears — what isn’t addressed is also quite telling.

I lived in my head.

New year, stronger me: Affirmations

I’ve learned a lot about myself in these last 9 months with this blog. I’m so thankful for the opportunity to explore and dive in to these moments from my past, to better understand who I am. I’m working on improving the way I view myself and what I have to offer to others, and I’ve made a lot of progress. Still plenty more to go, but at least there’s improvement.

I’m trying to think more positively about myself. See myself more as others see me (the ones who have a more balanced view of me), rather than just zeroing in on the ways I’ve fallen short. Those negative moments shouldn’t be the things that define who I am or how I measure myself.

Take a car trip with Rain-x and avoid the acid rain (analogy)

Recently I’ve spent a lot of time trying to recognize and understand the impact of my inner critic. Those times when I let the negative self-talk have more leverage than it deserves.

This awareness began about two years ago when I finally realized the way I spoke to myself had all the hallmarks of a verbally abusive relationship. I could do no right. Every effort was twisted around. And I’d berate myself over making one mistake while ignoring the numerous things that went right.

When you’re NOT interested in a guy’s attention

He was a non-traditional student, about 10 years older and I think pursuing an undergraduate degree. I had met him through PACT, but I believe the first real opportunity to talk happened on the statewide retreat. He wasn’t Catholic, but he was interested in learning about the faith.

I remember being with a small group of people at the retreat, and then slowly others broke off for other things. And it was just the two of us. I wasn’t super comfortable around him, but I couldn’t just leave him. He seemed so alone, and I felt bad for him.

Poem: Vanishing (with back story)

Wired.com

This is the poem that got me started writing poetry on my own time. In previous classes over the years we had written poems, usually following a form or writing haikus and limericks. Those were good ways of being introduced to poetry, but they didn’t seem to be very personal.

In May 1998, near the end of eighth grade, I was at home in the den/family room. I remember Mom called out asking me to bring her the newspaper or something. So I got up and walked toward the kitchen as requested, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. I had blacked out or something. They ran tests at the hospital, including an EKG, but no one could find anything to explain what actually happened. I was given a heart monitor to wear for 24 hours.

I didn’t fully understand the seriousness of what happened that weekend. I just knew I detested having to wear the monitor. But I just wrote down what I felt on paper.