The fibers of you and me

The last thing you ever bought me Was a beige and fuzzy vest     I put it in the dryer And it turned into a matted mess

I spent hours and hours 

Combing out the tousled furr

Hoping I could mend what was burnt and tangled

But that’s exactly what we were

I cried and cried and I didn’t know why

This immaterial vest was no longer new

And it would never look the same

As the day I received it from you

New Life Within Me

Sitting on that thin and wobbly line, I had never felt so frightened and alone. Purely existing in that immense quiet, listening to my own slow breath, I wasn’t sure that what I was attempting was even possible for someone like me. Standing up and falling too many times to count, feeling the sharp line tear at my legs and palms as I caught the line, I felt defeat but also a silent power emanating from the last light. I knew somewhere deep inside of me that I actually did have the strength. I made the choice to stand up proudly, standing taller than anyone in that valley. My first steps were shaky and a light breeze blew past my grimaced face. Focusing solely on a freshly bloomed flower on the opposite cliffside, step by step, I slowly traversed the longest 70 feet I had ever walked. My eyes glued to that new life, I sensed a new life within me too.

Photo by Eric Rsmsn, 2009
Hole Rock Highline, Napa Valley, CA

Roots

Twelve US states and twenty plus moves,

I’ve wandered around, only having myself to soothe

The fear, the unknown, the uncertainty and the strife,

Even if you didn’t know me, you could cut it with a knife

East coast and west coast and everywhere in between, 

It was only a matter of time before I would want to leave

Taught from birth that when things got tough, 

The best thing to do was to leave things in the dust

Sometimes I feel more like a bird than a person,

Wondering what it would have been like to have stayed by the ocean

Instead, soaring from place to place 

Seeking newness, adventure and a new smiling face

Observing those with families and kids,

Sitting inside their white picket fence

I can’t help but think they're more like trees,

Roots buried so deep, they could never leave

The lessons learned and the hearts that were broken,

I wouldn’t trade it for any golden token

This place and that place and her and him,

I wouldn’t be me without all of them

All of the people and all of the places,

I will never forget the countless faces

And perhaps roots are different for us,

Less about grounding and more about love

Divorce and Denial

I used to write, a lot, and it was something I truly loved to do. I wrote about my life and my experiences, which was so therapeutic for me and it was fun to be able to share that with others. As much as I loved that pastime, for some reason it fell to the wayside over the past decade; but tonight, I'm feeling the need to let it flow through me, just as it used to.

Two and a half years ago, I parted ways with my husband whom I was with for 7 beautiful, challenging, adventurous and memorable years. It would be an impossible task to summarize what the  journey of divorce has been like for me, but for some reason I'm feeling the urge to try. 

At first, what I felt was denial. Denial that something so special could end. Denial that someone that I loved so much could leave me. Denial that I was even experiencing pain and hurt. And most importantly, denial that I could continue forward alone. 

I spent quite a few months in this stage, jumping from relationship to relationship, trying to unconsciously replicate what my partner and I had created together. And when I was not able to do that....I felt a sense of betrayal, loss and desperation for an immediate solution to my pain. Looking back on that time, it's as if I was separate from myself in some way, moving aimlessly towards an endpoint that wasn't even clearly defined. 

After many failed attempts at replacing what I had, I buried myself in work. I decided to focus my attention on something other than the loss, because then....it didn't hurt as badly. I ended up finding a job that I liked and even got promoted to a position that paid more than I had ever made in my life. I was so proud of myself and felt like I had "made it" (whatever that even means). Throughout my marriage, the focus had been on my partner's career and he was going to be the bread winner, so this job was such a huge accomplishment to have achieved on my own. 

As much as I learned from this position, how independent I had become, how much I grew and how proud I was of myself, what I didn't realize was that by burying myself in this job I was no longer present. I was distracted from the simple pleasures of life: I was stressed, completely overwhelmed and in all honesty, I had become a part of the "rat race" that we can so easy to fall into. I no longer felt things, almost as if I was numb. I hardly laughed, which is a character trait I have always been known for (for God's sakes, I used to get banished to the corner in elementary school for laughing too much!) I would come home from work and immediately crash on the couch with no physical, emotional or mental energy to spare. Throughout most of that time, I kept telling myself that it was normal, that in order to "make it", this was the sacrifice. But, it got to the point where I could no longer put my own health second.

I recently chose to resign from that position for various reasons and have found something that does not suck the life out of me; for the first time in what seems like an eternity, I am at peace. I think the reason that I feel so compelled to write this tonight is because today.....it was as if my armor fell and I actually felt something. Today, I truly felt the emotion behind some of my favorite songs and I actually took the time to listen to the lyrics; I felt the wind blowing past my car window and allowed myself to enjoy being alive; I was truly moved while watching a movie and shed actual tears onto my friends shoulder; and for the first time in years, I experienced a joyful nostalgia while reminiscing on my life's best memories. 

All of this being said and as painful as the experience of divorce was (and is), I cannot be more grateful to have been through something so hard. Yes, it still hurts. Yes, I still have rough days. But, without it, I would not be the person I am today, and I think we can ALL say that about the challenging experiences we have been through. In the moment, life can seem truly impossible but what we don't realize is that in each and every moment we are creating a better version of ourselves <3

No Mud, No Lotus

       As I sit here in late December, completely ready for 2020 to arrive and 2019 to be in my distant memory, I can’t help but look back and think of all of the events that have transpired over the course of the year. Thinking back on it now, I am confident in saying that this has been, single-handedly, the most formative year of my life thus far and that is quite the statement for me to make considering all of the things I have been through in my mere 33 years of life. As the year began, in January, my best friend and canine companion of 11 years was diagnosed with cancer of the spleen and I had to make the heart wrenching decision to put her to rest. A few months after that, my partner and husband of 7 years and I decided to separate, ultimately ending in divorce. During that same time frame, I chose to leave a toxic work environment that was eating me alive and turning me into a person I no longer liked or respected. Following these three events, feeling completely vulnerable and lonely, I dove head first into a relationship with someone emotionally unavailable, leaving me to feel abandoned not once, but twice. Not to mention, I had also made the decision to get off of an extremely addictive anxiety medication that I had been on for 22 years leaving me in withdrawal and experiencing symptoms of immense anxiety and panic. All of these circumstances combined left me feeling completely lost in a world that I no longer understood; I literally felt like I was bush whacking my way through a dense forest, not knowing which direction was the way out. Saying that this year has been difficult would be an understatement but thankfully, I can also say that I have transformed in so many incredible ways. Despite how horrendous it all felt at the time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

       First of all, losing a pet is something that I truly cannot put into words that would make any real sense. Making the decision to put her down wasn’t the hard part - she was deeply suffering and the only gift I could provide her was relief. But, as the moment came for me to bring her into the vet, my heart began to slowly tear apart. As I lay on the floor with the one living being who knew me best, I couldn’t contain the tears as they streamed down my face, falling onto the concrete floor next to her soon to be lifeless body. I adopted Belle when I was 21 years old and we had moved out west together, just her and I. She had been there for me through the most difficult times and the very best of times. She was there for nearly every highline I ever walked! On that cold January day as she was injected with the substance ultimately meant to stop her heart, my heart nearly stopped beating as well. I literally didn’t know who I was without her. I laid next to her until she took her last breath and I couldn’t believe that my best friend would no longer be there to snuggle me at night, nearly knock me down with excitement after a long work day or to lay with me when she knew I was devastated (and she always knew). It was a sense of loss that I had never experienced before and I cried for weeks. That dog got me through over a decade of my life and I am eternally grateful for her old soul and unconditional love for me. A few weeks after losing her, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sensation of a dog licking my hand. The strange thing was, it couldn't have been my other dog, Piper, because my hand was lying in the corner where the bed met the wall. I am sure it was Belle. 

Belle and I in 2009

  As I grieved the loss of my beloved companion, my husband and I chose to separate after 7 years together. I won’t go into the details of our separation and divorce because I want to respect his privacy but I would like to share how I felt and how it affected me. When I chose to get married, I had no doubt in my mind that it was the right decision. Actually, I was the one who proposed to him (we had made a silly little bet about who would do it first). I was so sure about it, more sure then I had ever been about anything else before. Unfortunately, it was as if the odds were stacked against us from the very beginning. Throughout our relationship, we continually ran into road block after road block: issues with family, financial barriers, my chronic illness, his career change, housing problems and the list could go on. Sometimes, we both wondered if our relationship was somehow cursed. Things that he would buy me as gifts would constantly end up breaking or go completely missing. Was this a sign? Looking back on our 7 years together, part of me feels like the universe was trying to tell us something: perhaps this was not the partnership we were meant to be in. The funny part about it is, it wasn’t like we fought with one another. Actually, we never did; we got along incredibly well! Of course we had our issues like any couple does, but we were always respectful and caring towards one another. Always. It was somewhat frustrating that we couldn’t seem to convince the universe to make it work and ultimately, the universe was right (it always is!). In the end, my heart was broken and I’m sure his was too. Divorce is truly devastating, it honestly felt a lot like the loss of my dog: a death. I truly didn’t know how to process what was happening to me and my life! So, I unconsciously chose not to face it and jumped directly into a new relationship in an attempt to numb the immense amount of pain I was feeling (sound like a familiar story?).

A Song for Mark 

  Diving into a new relationship was really exciting at first. A big part of me was

really hopeful and open to something new. Despite the fact that he informed me of his emotional unavailability and past issues with commitment, I chose to ignore those statements and I believed that I could help him open up his locked up heart. Being an empath at my core, I thought that I could teach him how to be vulnerable and help him learn how to truly love. Maybe teaching someone to love would help me get over my painful divorce? In hindsight, I think this was an attempt to keep myself from feeling the pain that was buried deep inside. Ultimately, and not surprisingly, the relationship met its demise. When something just isn’t working out, there is no forcing it and that is exactly what we were trying to do. As excruciating as the experience was, trying to make a relationship work that just wasn’t ended up teaching me many lessons. I learned that when two energies don’t mesh, it’s best to just accept that fact. I learned that when someone isn’t ready to love, you can’t force them to be ready. And, I learned to wait for what is truly right for me because if I'm not patient, what is meant for me will never find its way into my life.

  Finally, I’d like to speak about what it was like to get off of a drug I had been on for nearly two thirds of my existence (I feel like this topic is actually worthy of its own separate post which I may eventually write). But for now, I am going to be completely honest and open about my mental health and that is something that scares me a little. It scares me because mental health isn’t something people usually talk openly about. It’s not something that is looked at the same way as a physical ailment is. But, in hopes of changing that stigma, I am going to talk about my challenges openly and without shame. When I was 12 years old, I was officially diagnosed with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). It manifested itself in a variety of ways when I was young but mainly, when I was 5, I began worrying about germs to the point where I would wash my hands so incessantly that they would bleed. As I grew older, I started to experience very unhealthy thought patterns. I began obsessing over things that were completely irrational and made up. For example, I would lie awake at night paralyzed by the idea that someone was going to break into the house and kill my family members, leaving me with no sleep whatsoever. Or, I thought that if I didn't get up and fix the curtains in just the right way, something terrible would happen. There are many other outlandish thoughts that entered my mind as well but they are so disturbing to me that I don't feel comfortable sharing them. The thing is, these thoughts were not just thoughts or fears; they were so intrusive that I could not function within my daily life. I was so caught up inside my own brain that I was often staring into space or completely unable to participate in daily activities. It was like I was a zombie, trapped inside my own dysfunctional mind which was putting miserable and terrifying thoughts on never ending repeat. My mother began to realize that something wasn’t quite right with me and took me in to see a psychiatrist. 

       From there, I was put on a medication called Paxil, which in the mid 90's was deemed safe, even for children my age. At the time, Paxil changed my life for the better, almost immediately! My obsessions were completely gone and I could exist as a normal, healthy teenager. I only suffered a few episodes of severe OCD thoughts over the span of 22 years (although I still exhibited “ tendencies” like keeping things extra organized or “ just so”). Unfortunately, many years after I was put on the drug, the medical community learned that it was extremely physically addictive and caused birth defects in newborn babies. Upon finding this out, it took me 10 years and various attempts to successfully to get myself off of it. It turns out that 2019 was my year for success, but the process was truly unbearable. To explain what it was like, some people compare the process of getting off Paxil to getting off of Heroin. During the transition from Paxil to a newer and much safer drug, I suffered extreme anxiety and panic attacks, nausea, headache, flu like symptoms, and more. I hid these withdrawal symptoms very well because I am an expert at pretending I am okay. But honestly, without the support of my mother and the incredible friends that I have in my life, I’m not sure I would still be here to tell this tale. I called my Mom nearly every day for month's during the transition and I don’t know how I will ever repay her for answering my calls.

  As this year is coming to an end, I am finally finding myself in a better place and feeling a sense of comfort and stability. I am at peace with the loss of both my dog Belle and my marriage. Having left my toxic job at the beginning of the year was the best decision I could have made for myself and I now have a job that makes me happy and I feel both valued and fulfilled. I am no longer dating someone that isn’t right for me and I am also on a safer drug helping me manage some of my mental health challenges. Honestly, I feel a little kooky for choosing to write about all of this on my blog and I deliberated long and hard before publishing because this may be the most vulnerable and open that I have ever been on this platform. But, there is something within me that is always pushing me to tell my story, regardless of how personal or how raw it may be and I have always been this way: brutally honest. I realize that there are people out there that may judge me for aspects of what I am sharing or perhaps not completely understand (specifically the OCD part). But, I am also sure that there are people out there who are going through similar life challenges that may take solace in that fact that they are not alone. What I’ve realized is that life is very much like a roller coaster ride that never ends. There will be ups and downs. There will be moments of pure euphoria and moments of sheer terror. There will be moments when you think the worst is over but there is still more to come. But, as my best friend always tells me during times of trouble “just wait a few weeks, Emily, and everything will be different”. 

My dog Piper and Me in 2019 :)