Half of my Heart

I'm an empath. One of my girlfriends always says she owes me thousands of dollars in therapy. Which is probably thanks to the thousands of dollars I've spent in therapy. For Christmas I got three books on being an empath and how to balance it.

I'm not gonna lie to y'all it's a fine line to walk. Caring enough to help but not caring too much that it brings you down with the shipwreck. It's something we didn't think we'd see in out lifetime so thank gawd for the the health care system and all essential workers who keep our country going.

I just don't do things the way a normal person does. I laugh when I'm happy, I cry when I'm sad. I can't be half hearted. This epidemic would make anyone either very upset or pretend it's not happening at all. Now children are dying. Not just older people. Don't even get me started on how Trump is trying to kill America. To keep the money rolling in. His own people keep getting sick and dying. Protests in the streets, people killing each other for no reason. History is going back in time, not forward and if you're smart enough you know exactly who I'm talking about.

We're dying here too, but more slowly than a country run by some ego maniac. We're taking it slow. Doing what we can.

I know this is killing the economy. I know people are lining up overnight at food banks. I know as long as we are doing okay, that if I was still JW I would probably be so happy that all the things they told us were finally coming true and paradise was coming. That it's the end of the world as we know it. But that's a bunch of selfish people thinking only about them, not the rest of the world.

Instead, I live with a guy, a dog and a cat. I have no predisposed ideas about getting into paradise at this point. I have a bad immune system so he won't let me leave the house without an M3 N-95 mask. I'm allergic to all fabrics that are synthetic so my allergies kicked in and now I've been walking around with a black eye for 5 or 6 days cause I'm allergic to those masks. Imagine how much fun my Zoom meetings at work have been with a black eye.

Ben is the only one allowed to come over and he does, every day. We have our little quarantine family. Sometimes Lindsay and Declan pop by and we say hi, them on the sidewalk, me out the window. My Taurus doesn't really understand the Pisces. That even a fish can die underwater for so long.

COVID doesn't seem to be going away. Maybe in times like these we should look outside ourselves and find ways to help others. The non profit I work for does not receive government funding or money from the United Way. They rely solely on donations. Our fundraising events for the spring/summer? Not gonna happen.

I know we're all struggling financially, but if you're one of those who aren't, if you're happy and comfortable in life, please think about helping others who need support now more than ever before. Eating disorders are the #2 cause of death out of all mental health issues.

www.sheenasplace.org/donate

We appreciate any support that helps us help other. But don't do anything unless your whole heart is in it. Half of a heart is not going to get us out of this mess, despite the best intentions.

Sullivan out.

Ready to Run

When I got married, I knew I'd get divorced. My dad was walking me down the aisle and before we started he was like, we don't have to do this. We have a car outside. We can just leave. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. 

One of my favorite ex boyfriends used to call me "Little Flight Risk". He was a great guy. Wanted to marry me and have kids. Been there, done that. Not the having kids part but the wanting to.

I've become famous for leaving jobs. A friend called me the other day, he was like, just checking in. Wanted to see if you still had a job.

It's difficult to trust anyone when you've lost everyone. I really don't think I'm cut out to be a corporate Bay Street bitch anymore, so I think I'll just open a flower shop and put that MBA to good use. :)

The guy I'm with now? Oh, he's not my type. And how many times have I run away? I can't count. But. The other night I was freaking out because I was writing a paper and my printer stopped working. I'm old school and I cannot work on the internet. I needed my paper copies of all these studies I'm analyzing. So he went to an internet cafe (yes those still exist apparently) at 1 am and printed them all off. He won't let me quit my MBA (I have one course left so that would be stupid) but he doesn't want me to be unhappy. He always tells me to just go back to the flower shop and learn as much as I can from my boss and we'll figure out how to get our own thing going.

Sounds good to me. On one hand, I'm like where exactly was all this acceptance, support and love when I was growing up? On the other hand, I finally found it.

Yesterday was his birthday and I always think a birthday is a new beginning. If I were him, I'd start the new year by kicking me to the curb, but he hasn't so I'm pretty sure we're end game. I have loved very deeply in the past. While I still try to be a good person, I also try not to love too much because it always ends up hurting me. Before that happens, I run away. There is however something to be said for sticking it out.

Oh, the perils of self-improvement. This time I'm not leaving because it's worth the work to stay. Dammit. Guess I'm just finally in the right place. To quote RuPaul (which I never do) "If you can't love yourself, how the hell are you ever gonna love someone else? Can I get an Amen!" Amen.

Sullivan out.

This is about Nothing.

well it's happened. i feel like i need to write, but i have nothing to say. not entirely true, i have lots of things to say. but there are thing i protect and won't talk about, like family and friends. unless it's positive. if you want to know who in my family has the worst secrets (and it's a toss up, spoiler alert!) you'll have to wait for the book, which will only be published after i die. :)

speaking of death, jay was amazed last night to hear i'd already planned every detail if max's funeral. hey, he's a big dog, he's not doing to live forever. i've planned my funeral, why shouldn't i plan his? his is going to be so much cuter than mine. when all you do is work and study sometimes your mind wanders.

i'm a planner. i figure i feel too much, been through too much. i'm a pisces, so whatever you feel about anything, double that, add in some drama and then double it again. if max just dropped dead they'd probably have to put me in a psych ward. he is the best thing that ever happened to me. that homeless helpless huge puppy. i always call him my love because he is. with my funeral no one is coming. (except a very small guest list, you're probably not on it and i've paid jay to get bouncers.) max though, is everyone's dog and it would be selfish of me not to share the grief this time. so i plan it now, halfway thorough his life and i get 5 years to come to peace with it. which we all know i never will but at least i'll be better prepared.

turns out, both my "kids" are almost exactly me. max is having a sleepover party tonight so i'm home alone with rosie. she kinda scares me. if max exudes the please love me, i'll do anything for you side of me, rosie is the other side of the bed. hey, i know how to stand up for myself and i've been doing it for years. that's why y'all love me right? i've done the brave honest thing till it hurt. rosie takes it one step further. i could learn a thing or two from that tiny little kitten. jay says rosies' go-to is: lick, lick, BITE. she's your friend. until she's not. then she makes you bleed. for all my friends with kids, this excludes children, she respects them and would never bite your child. please don't be afraid to come over.  

in the end, she spends a lot of time in her cage. she'll scratch until you bleed, then go pee on your bed. she'll eat your flowers just because she knows you love them more than anything else in the home. stuff you don't care about? she'll never touch it. but she WILL destroy your roses. the cage never teaches her a lesson. it's almost like she likes it in there, quiet time alone to contemplate how she'll take over the world. she becomes totally calm. it's disturbing. she is however very loving and loyal to her half-life partner (cause cats never die) max.

at the end of the day, all i can say is thank the universe i have a boyfriend / man-friend/ lover/ husband/ best friend whatever you want to call him, who would notice i was missing if i died and come find me before rosie ate half my face because i wasn't able to feed her. this whole blog is very morbid but if you were in my messed up head, you'd think it's really funny. i'm laughing :)

sullivan out.

Adam

Sneak peek. I'm finally writing my book. I decided to call all the chapters by peoples names. You can tell me if that's a good idea, leave a comment. Apparently though you have to have their consent or if not change their names. So Adam is reviewing this one. 

Adam

When I met my ex-husband, I was still in the cult. I thought, this is as good as it gets. I was 16. Even if our marriage was far from perfect, I still think that having grown up the way he did, he was a pretty good person.

Not a good husband.

I married him but I wasn’t in love. On the outside, we were perfect. On the inside I was dying. I’m a romantic. He had every excuse in the book to not come home. Hockey, golf, boy’s nights.

I was at a point in my life where I was questioning the Jehovah’s Witnesses belief system. But of course you can never talk about that, or you will be labelled an apostate and shunned by all family and friends. Which did happen to me. But before that…

I met Adam.

We were work friends for two years. He was someone I could finally talk to about the truth. In my other life, nothing you ever did was good enough. Taking care of all these people, volunteering all your time. Didn’t matter, you just had to work harder. Be better. You are never good enough. Especially if you’re a woman.

Adam loved me just the way I was and with all my imperfections. We could talk about anything for hours. It happened organically and we never officially crossed the cheating line. Except I did because I fell so in love with him that I finally found the strength to give up everything and everyone else for the chance that we’d end up living in a house on the beach and having strawberry blonde children.

Every time I walked into the office my heart would beat faster. Every time I got a message on my phone I hoped it was him. I had never felt that way about anyone. 

Stuart, my ex-boss/ex-boyfriend took me out for drinks one night while this all was happening and he said Mahhhhgaux (he’s British) married men never leave their wives.

Adam is smart. He is handsome. And kind. And as much as I tell myself he never really loved me I think he did. When it was over, I tried to kill myself. After everything I had lost, I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. Without the beach house and those kids.

Whatever the outcome was, Adam was my BIG love and the catalyst that got me to wake up and get out of the cult. I will always love him for that. I owe him my second life.

The Dreamer

"I am just a dreamer but I'm hanging on. Though I am nothing big to offer. I watch the birds, how they dive and then gone like nothing in this world is ever still."


I've had a lot of change this year. 2016 kinda sucked. I left my job, the only really stable thing in my life besides Max. Then there was the whole almost dying drama. Then the guy I was seeing - actually the first guy I ever really liked since I left the jdubs dumped me. And why wouldn't he? I'm fabulous but I'm also a mess.

The thing is, I've gone through most of the past seven years like I'm fucking Uma in Kill Bill. I even bought the same sword. (Sidepoint: Swords are sharp, Don't play with them.) As I went on my vendetta against the JWs for what they did to me, I had to eventually realize that I have accountability here too.

I knew what I was doing when I broke the rules, and I also knew that breaking the rules is the only way to break free of them. My perfect little life there wasn't real. But it felt real. So when it was gone, I picked up my sword and went on the attack. And there's really no reason to. All of these new people who have come along, all of the new opportunities I've had - that's the real life. It's not some illusion of how everyone is always best friends and we're going to live forever.

We won't. I don't know what happens when we die, but I do know that we're gone. So we have to make the most of what we have now, appreciate every kindness and all the love we're shown. Because all of us are worthy of that. No matter how many mistakes we've made.

I let my guard down this year and decided to let someone in. Didn't work out, but unless we take that step, we're just going to end up alone. As much as I've told myself thousands of times over the past seven years that I don't need anyone...I do. We all need people.

I know I say this every New Years and it never seems to work out for me, I think this year will be better. I used to be such a dreamer but I'm pretty firmly rooted in reality now. Doesn't mean that I don't still watch the birds and imagine that some day I'll be that free. I'm almost there. Love is all that matters. If someone doesn't want to give you that, wish them well and move on. And wait for the people who will. Keep the sword close though, just in case. :)

Sullivan out.

Bird by Bird

I know what you're going to say and you're right. I haven't written anything lately. I think I have writer's block. So instead I've spent countless hours coloring this picture for you and reading this book on writing. But my ADD must have set in and I doubt I'll finish either of them anytime soon, so it is what it is and "you're welcome"!

Y'all should actually just be happy that the entire bird isn't black. That was an option. I don't really feel like that anymore. For people who struggle with depression and anxiety the darkness comes and goes. For me, it's still here sometimes, it might never go away. But with more and more of us being open, building a community where we feel comfortable talking about our struggle and then also celebrating our successes, together we are making progress.

Don't doubt that and don't feel like you're alone. What I've learned is that sometimes we're in the light. We use those times to shine it on others who might need a little help. When we're in the darkness and they are in the light, they'll return the favour.

Yes, that coffee mug does say " Write like a Motherfucker" in the shape of a heart. It was a gift from someone I dearly love. Another friend bought me the coloring book. My friends get me.

And I would totally recommend the book: Bird by bird written by Anne Lamott if you're looking for some writing tips.

Also, if anyone wants to buy me a pencil sharpener that would be awesome. I don't even know where to get one. It's 2016. Do people still have pencil sharpeners? :)

Have yourself an awesome day. And be kind. Everyone you know is fighting their own battle.

Sullivan out.

Where the Light Is

"Gravity has taken better men than me. Just keep me where the light is." - John Mayer

One of my friends has been going through a hard time. I tried my best to help. A lot of us did. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. He decided to take his own life.

I got the phone call at work. My first reaction was NO. It can't be true. My second reaction was just to start crying. Which I did all night, this morning and that's not over yet.

The whole reason I had decided to be so open on this blog was to raise awareness. Most of my life has been completely embarrassing. And putting it out there definitely does not benefit me in any way. But if I could help anyone - ex-JW, someone living with mental health issues - that's what I wanted to do.

Bell does a "Let's Talk" day every year to raise awareness for mental health issues. This is not a one day a year issue. It's great that they do that. And it's great that a lot of you out there support the charities that support these people. My people.

If you really want to help though, it takes more than writing a check. Or showing up at a fundraiser. It takes all of us to educate ourselves, to be alert to the warning signs, to make those one on one connections with the ones who suffer. Listen, be there for them, help them get the help they need.

This old school mentality has got to go and make room for awareness and acceptance. Some of the comments I've received in the past day just reinforced that for me. "He was so selfish." "Was he on drugs?"

I realize that drug and alcohol abuse can be factors in the equation sometimes, but not always. Sometimes people just get dealt a bad hand in life and they get very sad.

As far as the selfish comments go, yes, maybe it is selfish, but try looking at it from the other perspective. I've been through it. I've tried to kill myself. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. I didn't send out angry messages or write a letter blaming anyone. Sometimes, we are pushed beyond our capacity for pain. When that happens, we can end up in a place where we never wanted to go. A dark place. Where there's no light at the end of the tunnel. Where the hurt is so bad, all we want is for it to stop. Where as much as we genuinely love the people in our life, we don't care anymore that they will cry tomorrow. It just needs to be over. For us.

I've been so lucky. The second time I became suicidal, I didn't just take four bottles of pills and go to bed. I asked for help and I had a network that rallied around me. A workplace that supported me. Aunts and Uncles to go home to, who took care of me until I was no longer a threat to myself. A $200/hour therapist who first cut his fees in half and then just treated me for free.

Not everyone is that lucky. Although my friend had loving friends, he obviously didn't have the support he needed. Over the past couple of weeks, he kept telling me how much he valued our friendship. He wasn't angry, he was just sad. He kept telling me how much he looked up to me, how strong he thought I was for getting through my challenges in life. How proud he was of me.

I've been where he was and I still misread the signs. I thought he was saying those things because I was inspiring him to get better. Now, I think it was because he didn't feel like he would ever get there.

All I'm asking of all of you out there is please, please be alert. 1 in 4 Canadians have suffered or are suffering from depression. Watch for the signs. Be patient and kind. Pick up the phone when they call even if you're rolling your eyes and thinking you don't want to listen to this story again. You just might save a life.

He called me on Wednesday. I was volunteering at a charity event all day. I didn't pick up, I thought, I'll just call him back later. Later was too late.

We all struggle with the back and forth between the light and the darkness. When you're in the light, shine it on others. That way, when you're in the dark, there will be someone around to show you the way back out.

Sullivan out.

Country Roads

"Country roads take me home, to the place where I belong." - John Denver

I've been home for a couple of weeks now. I have two drawers of clothes, my yoga mat and my dog. It feels strange to be an adult and living in my uncle's house. My friends are great. They all just keep calling me and asking when I'm coming back. Right now I can't tell.

I read a book before I left on the struggle of women living in Afghanistan. I never have, never will, face that kind of battle. I only have first world problems. But - and the but here is big - y'all know I'm an advocate for mental health issues. So I've been seeing two therapists. I meditate in the mornings and I always run through my gratitude list.

I have the best half of my family on my side. They are completely "Team Margaux". I couldn't ask for better back-up.

I have the best boss. Enough said.

I have the best friends. Although it's possible they miss Max more than me.

I am very lucky and I never forget that. Being in the country is good for me. My family keeps me busy with chores - gardening and watering plants and barn work. I haven't ventured far from home since I arrived here. Some days are better than others.

Driving the country roads has been fun. It feels like home and that helps right now. I'll go to my other home soon though. As soon as it feels safe.

Sullivan out.

How to Save a Life

It's actually pretty simple: 

1) Show up
2) Don't be an asshole

With Mental Health Week coming up I think there are a few things we all should know. 

- Half of the people dealing with mental health issues will never tell anyone about it. 
- One in four people in Canada will go through this at some point in their lives. 
- Depression is a real disease. Those of you who think you can just "be happy" are wrong.

From my experience, it's complicated. I've tried everything from therapy (I have two therapists) to meditation, to mindfulness training, to medication, to psychics. I've read a million books, dabbled in Buddhism, bought a mala that's supposed to be healing, done yoga more times than I can count. 

It's a lot of work on top of real life and real work. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong. Sometimes I blame my upbringing. Sometimes I try to forgive myself for being not as strong as I want to be. 

Those of us who are suffering and trying to get better though, try to understand us. Just because I've been struggling lately has absolutely no link to self-pity or feeling ungrateful. Each and every turn my life takes, there's someone there who shows up. Friends, ex-boyfriends, family. I love and appreciate those people more than I can express in words. 

I have an aunt and uncle who would be the most perfectly imperfect set of parents. And I think that's the beauty in unconditional love. Now that we're all adults we know what each of us have been through. And I feel accepted and loved and I know I look up to them for getting through what they've been through. We do the best with what we have, but without the proofs of love, how we would know that we're actually loved? Love is an action. 

If someone you loved had cancer, you'd show up at the hospital, you'd bring them flowers. You might not understand depression and anxiety, but you can try. :)

And that's how you save people's lives. Suicide is the second most common cause of death amoung young people in Canada. Stop the stigma. Start talking. 

The Ugly Truth

I've been reading another M. Scott Peck book. His most famous book starts with a simple truth: "Life is difficult."

I haven't written anything in awhile. It's spring here in Toronto and I've been trying and trying to come up with some story of tulips and sunshine to help everyone who reads me have a happier day.

I received another message thanking me for putting myself out there, for having the courage to tell the truth, share my story. Apparently, it's been an inspiration to some people. It hasn't come without a cost though. My ex-boyfriend always gave me the same advice about this blog: You could just tell the truth. 

And it's not that I don't. I'm pretty honest. But everything is sugar coated, it all has that twist at the end where I say everything is going to be okay. I don't just do it for the people who read it, I do it for me. So that I can believe that too.

The honest truth is that this morning I got up, took a shower, put on a dress and couldn't leave my apartment. I just sat in a chair and cried. I've never not shown up for work, not called in to let them know where I was. A colleague and very good friend actually showed up. He made me call my therapist and sat on the floor with me while I cried. He offered to take me to the hospital.

I chose a path, years ago now. Was it the right one? I don't know. I've been fighting a losing battle. One I will never win. For me though, the path of least resistance is just not an option at this point.

I have one friend who understands me and supports me through everything. I have a couple of people in my family I can call when I need help. Other than that, I'm alone. Would it have been better to stay married, continue to be part of a cult, have hundreds of friends that aren't really your friends unless you obey? No. It wouldn't. But that doesn't make life on the outside any easier.

I've realized that as much as I try to be an advocate, I'm actually ashamed of who I am. I'm pretty sure anyone who deals with depression feels the same way. We wish we could be better. We wish it would go away. I want to be the old Margaux, the one who took care of everyone else and did it with a smile. But I'm not anymore. And this blog will end like that.

Sullivan out.

Suck it up, Buttercup

January 28th was Bell "Let's Talk" day. I meant to write a blog about it but if you follow me regularly, you'll know I haven't been writing much these days. The statistics are...well..sad to be honest. Over 3 million Canadians are suffering from depression at this moment. One in five will experience it at some point in their lives. And I think the numbers are probably skewed because there is so much of a stigma attached to admitting you have a problem. 

Y'all know I went through it - to an extreme extent - myself. The last couple of years? My old friend hasn't really bothered me. The anxiety never went away. He's an asshole. The depression though, was gone. I never cried. I didn't feel sad any more than any "normal" person does. And there wasn't anything some Ben & Jerry's and a chat with a friend couldn't cure.

Last Saturday though, it came back. The pacing around the apartment at 4 am. The panic attacks. The constant crying. The events that triggered it - I should have seen it coming. But I didn't. I was in such a great place. I was getting up really early every morning. Taking the dog out. Doing yoga and practicing meditation. I felt between my job, my friends and having my JW family back in my life and me as part of theirs, I finally had everything I could have hoped for since I decided to walk away from that old life 5 years ago. 

That religion though is exactly like the song Hotel California. "You can check out any time you like but you can never leave." And unless you are very, very lucky, you cannot walk between the two worlds and think you can have both. I have been subject to a lot of criticism, a lot of hate on this blog for trying to do that. I understand why so many ex-jws are hurt. I understand why some of the people who are disfellowshipped would be upset with me for publicly not completely disassociating myself with that group. 

My girlfriend wasn't invited to her sister's 10 year anniversary party. My invitation was rescinded to my sister's wedding. Honestly? I didn't really want to go anyway. The thought of walking into a Kingdom Hall makes me need an Ativan. I did spend months though getting myself strong enough to do it - for her. Thus all the yoga, all the meditation, all the positive thinking. 

All families are a little bit crazy. Like it or not though, we are hardwired to love them. And I do. This hurts. It hurts like my heart was ripped out and chopped up in front of me. But I'm not angry. I'm sad. And I can't tell you how many people have caught me crying at my desk at work this week. 

You know what I've learned? That even when it gets this bad, I'll never try to hurt myself again. Because now, I know for a fact that it goes away. That soon, I'll feel better. Depression lies to us but if we know it's lying it takes away some of its power over us. My best friend is getting married in May, so I will have somewhere else to wear that really pretty dress I bought.

My friends, colleagues and non-JW family have rallied up and supported me this week. I have the kindest people in my life that I could wish for. My girlfriend immediately booked a ticket to Toronto so I won't be alone that weekend. Another friend begged me to come spend it with his family in Montreal. My family back home bought me a plane ticket since I've already booked that week off work. My roomate took down all the family pictures while I was at work until I feel like I can look at them again. 

So I'll suck it up. There's little things that help. I've been wearing the necklace my brother bought me - a cross with a switchblade in it. I've had two sessions with my therapist instead of one. This was not a stellar week. Next week? Will be better. :)

Sullivan out.  

We're not broken, just bent

"Just give me a reason, just a little bit's enough. Just a second we're not broken just bent. And we can learn to love again."

My girlfriend came over yesterday to do my hair for the big work party. Apparently my hair is awful but you'd never know from this picture (she did a great job). And that seems to be what life is all about, isn't it? Pretending we're all fine even when we're not. 

When we do let someone see the "not so pretty" parts of us it's very disappointing when they go away. It's so hard to put yourself out there in the first place. Then there are those people who you know will never walk away. You can disagree, you can fight, you can yell and they still show up the next time you're supposed to be together. My brother is one of those people for me. 

I won't lie. I can FaceBook it up as well as anyone else. And I can make my life look perfect. But it's not. It's good enough though. I'm luckier than a lot of people. I do however have bad dreams that don't go away. The old life still haunts me at night and sometimes my roomate says he hears me screaming in my sleep.

That's the one thing I would change if I could. If I could just sleep I would have no complaints with life. I still manage to get out of bed in the morning, go to work, even though some mornings are not as easy as others. I think if more of us could tell the truth, confess that our lives are not perfect FaceBook pages, that we struggle, we wouldn't feel so alone. We'd know the truth - that there are so many of us out there dealing with depression, with anxiety. That we love our lives, we are grateful for what and who we have but we're dealing with some heavy shit.  We're not broken, just bent.  

Sullivan out. 

In Repair

I was pretty happy coming home from work today. Monday and Tuesday - always rough. I write a lot of to-do lists and by Wednesday afternoon I've finally crossed a lot of things off and it all starts to seem more achievable and then I begin to calm down.

I wish I could just convince my brain that by Wednesday afternoon it would all feel better. My subconscious seems to hate me though. I'm not sure if you can relate but for all the positive reinforcement, the meditation, the trying to think happy thoughts, I can't control what happens a third of the day, when I'm sleeping. 

All I do lately is have dream after dream so it feels like, in some ways, I'm working 24/7. Not at "work work" but just work in general. When I'm sleeping it's real life stuff, usually past life stuff. People I haven't thought about in ages just barge right in and sit down in my living room and refuse to leave. Apparently I've started talking in my sleep. My roomate tried to wake me up the other night and I just yelled at him to get away from me. But I was still dreaming and the person I was yelling at wasn't him at all. 

My therapist (yes here we go again) has been lovely. He's treating me for free and I can't really figure out why, except maybe I'm a fascinating case study. I asked him last week if he thought all this effort and time that both of us have been putting into our time together was worth it. Not to mention the lost work time for both of us. 

Me: Can you fix me?

Him: (sighs) No. 

He went on to explain that he can help, no doubt. And if I keep working hard like I have been, it will continue to improve. But it can't be fixed. Too much trauma to completely recover from. 

I asked a friend of mine the other day who has been through a lot if he ever has rage nightmares against the people who hurt him. I think I've worked hard to get past any anger and resentment about the past. But when I sleep, it comes out. It's buried somewhere in there. He said no, not any more. Now he just dreams about the happy times. 

I honestly don't think I would pick that over this. The dreams are so real, so vivid. I see their faces and hear their voices as if they were right here in front of me now. If I woke up thinking I was back there in the happy times, I might be too sad to get out of bed. 

So for now, I'm in repair. I'll take the panic attacks, the insomnia, the talking in my sleep. And be grateful that when I do wake up, the family, friends and support I have pretend not to notice the circles under my eyes, the fidgeting, all the nervous habits I've picked up. If I have to be in repair mode, I do have the best support system I could wish for. 

I know worrying is a exercise in futility. That's why I try not to do it. I hope someday my subconscious catches up and tries to be as happy as I do. :)

Daydreams & Nightmares

My therapist says I should be writing more so here goes. (And, yes, I did just begin yet another sentence with "my therapist says".)

I had another unfortunate experience recently. Maybe Rosemary was right and I should just write a blog called "My horrible, terrible, really bad summer". Or maybe my psychic is right and I just have very bad karma. Either way, I was recently attacked by a man I didn't know. 

I was alone and the experience was terrifying. Thank the Universe I had the advantage of an extreme burst of adrenaline and a drunk, clumsy opponent. Ladies, if you ever find yourself in that situation (and most of us do apparently at some point in our lives, it happens so MUCH more often than you would think): scream, yell in their face, punch, kick, whatever you need to do. These predators are actually cowards trying to intimidate us into thinking they have all the power. In some situations, they do, and very bad things happen. But not always. Sometimes we can win. 

It's remarkable how our brains work, how we can store away hurt and fear and anger until we experience some new trauma and then all of a sudden, the past is back. I haven't been able to sleep since this happened, I wake up every few minutes in a sweat, having a panic attack because all of a sudden, in my sleep, I'm back in my past. I won't bore you with all the details, but I've managed to make my way through every significant trauma in my life - in my sleep - all the way back to the time our house caught on fire when I was 4 or 5 years old. I had completely forgotten that even happened. 

The good news is I've been getting through so many of them a night, I should be out of bad memories by the end of the weekend. 

I've always preferred daydreams to night dreams. In my head, in the light of day, there's always hope and possibility. At night, not so much. My subconscious takes over when I sleep and I can't control it. 

Sometimes, our daydreams turn into nightmares. The day I got married was one of the happiest days of my life. The day I got divorced was a waking nightmare. The day I was baptized as one of Jehovah's Witnesses was full of promise (although I was a brainwashed 12 year old), the day I was disfellowshipped and shunned was terrible. I almost didn't survive those experiences. 

I think though, that I got through them the same way I got through my most recent challenge: sheer will, determination and  refusing to give up. No matter who or what is our opponent if we don't give up we have a fighting chance. At least 50/50 right? I'm going to be really Canadian for a minute and quote Wayne Gretzky: "You miss 100 percent of the shots you don't take". 

So when you're faced with something and you know in your gut what the right thing to do is, take that shot. And hopefully, eventually our subconscious catches up with us and stops being so afraid anytime we go to sleep. 

Sullivan out. 

Love Lost

Yup I have a new song. Here ya go. Look at me, not throwing up, back on the laptop. I guess the medication I was on was just the wrong one. I'm feeling better already. It'll probably take a couple of days to recover but that's okay. What I really needed was just some hope that it would improve. The new one says that I should avoid sunlight so 
it's possible that I've become a vampire. I would like that, because being raised JW I believed I would stay young forever and now, we've got that covered. 

Sidepoint: I can't believe I ever believed that. 

I have two stories for you today. 

#1: Blood tests are bad. My doctor ordered them so I went the day before yesterday. I'm afraid of blood and needles and that's the whole reason I didn't become a nurse. I psyched myself up though and went. The first vial, no problem. But there were 8 of them. The second one broke. The blood spurts out, the needle is still in my arm, I freak out. I screamed, I started crying. They were trying to calm me down and I was like, No we're done for today. I'm here because I have anxiety issues. This is enough for one day, get that needle out of my arm. I went back yesterday and explained to the nurse that I needed to get these done, but I was having a panic attack and I couldn't handle any exploding vials of blood. She was great and talked me through it. Now I'm afraid people on the street might mistake me for a heroin addict because of how my arms look, but other than that I'm okay. :)

#2: Don't give up. It's been five years for me trying to figure out how to get back to my family. I'd given up on the thought that my mother and sister were ever going to be feasible relationships. I've changed so much and not in a way they like. 

But my mother found out I've been unwell and Facetimed me yesterday. She said I hurt her with the Canadian Living article. I said they hurt me when I was suicidal and going through a divorce and I was completely alone. We agreed to move forward. I don't hold grudges, I think that's bad karma for us. 

Then she showed me this. She bought me a Blackbird. It made me feel like she's finally accepted me for who I am.  Which is not all together, which is not a JW. Which is an imperfect person trying to make the best of things. I am a Blackbird. But I kinda like it. :)

Sullivan out. 

Baby Steps

I had a long week at work. I was so exhausted come the weekend that once again I didn't accomplish everything I was hoping to. Some weeks, I just need to calm down and accept that I'm only human after all and trying to be more than that gives me panic attacks and will lead me to an early grave. 

It's possible y'all are tired of hearing me prepare for this Mental Health week speech thing, but one of our Partners called me on Friday afternoon, he's been struggling with his speech too. So I guess we're in the same boat. Telling terrible, personal stories, hoping it will have an impact on someone. 

I've realized in preparing for it though, I am very, very grateful for my job. Yes, I believe in work/life balance and our priorities should be the people in our lives, not the work we're doing. But we can't underestimate how much head space our jobs take up - even just by virtue of the fact that we spend so much of our time there. 

I have been extremely lucky to land where I am, meet the people I've met and have the opportunities I currently have. My team bought me a big bouquet of flowers on Friday afternoon and I honestly feel the love. 

The journey I've been on professionally though, has been one consisting of millions of little baby steps. When I was JW, I worked part-time and spent 100 hours a month doing volunteer work for them - for years. Arriving here, I felt like I was so far behind other people my age, I would never catch up. But I'm getting closer and closer to where I want to be. 

I saw my mother today, that relationship has been consisting of baby steps as well. Learning how not to push each other's buttons, how to peacefully co-exist with me as a non-JW has been a journey. 

I took her out to get our nails done and she tried to be discreet while she slipped a JW magazine into my favorite Buddhist book. I appreciate the sentiment behind it. I would never expect her to stop trying to win me back over to them. 

But you can count on this: there are two instances in my life where I will ever, ever again step into a Kingdom Hall: if I happen to be invited to my sisters wedding and my mother's funeral. Other than that, we've had a bad breakup and I'm not interested in revisiting it. 

Interestingly, the magazine she left me was entitled: "Why Go On: Three Reasons to Keep Living". Reason #2 was "Because There is Help". Second paragraph was entitled "People who care" and spoke to the fact that JWs have a unique opportunity through their outreach and door-to-door work to encounter "distraught people" who may have felt desperate and considered ending their lives. 

I quote: "Following Jesus' example, Jehovah's Witnesses care about their fellowman. They care about you." I hope that two of my best friends who I turned to when I was "distraught" and suicidal, who told me "there is no help for disfellowshipped people" and asked me not to try to contact their families again, read that article. Hopefully it will help them better understand their Christian obligations. 

I feel like the past five years has been made up of million of little baby steps. I'm not sure where it all will lead yet, but I know this much: I'm on the right path. :)

The Landslide

Life is a series of peaks and valleys. Which I've grown oh-so-accustomed to that at this point.

I read a great article on my "daily dharma" the other day that said we should forget happiness. The pursuit of it, in itself, is a fool's errand. He said:

"What is freedom? It is nothing more, nothing less, than life lived awake."

This is what I crawled towards at the beginning, before I could walk, when I ventured out to find the real truth. Crawling of course, because confronting reality is a painful ordeal. It's the plot of every great movie, every moving book. Overcoming adversity and becoming more than what we were raised to be, but maybe what we were meant to be? It's inspiring, it's brave, it's fucking hard. We crawl before we walk, we walk before we can run. 

February is always the most depressing month, maybe that's why I born into it (the ever-sensitive Pisces). Lately, the family, the work, the boys, the friends, it's all been depressing. Fighting, severe illnesses, stress, unhappy situations...maybe we're all just experiencing a bad case of the winter blues. And I've been backsliding into the Landslide. 

My eczema is back, after all these years. I guess I'm more stressed out than I thought. I can't wait to add that to the things I reveal to new guys I date: Oh, you know, I was raised in a cult. And I'm divorced. And everything itches. :)

I'd rather hurt though than feel nothing at all. And when you hurt, you know you're still alive. And that soon, you'll feel the sun and the happiness that comes with surviving the winter. And the bad times. Living wide awake means we accept and feel each emotion as they come, and make peace with them. Let them in, learn to love them. That way, even if they bury us, we can find a way to crawl out and learn to walk again. Maybe eventually, we can run. 

Sullivan out. 

Under Pressure

Mondays are always the worst for me (click me). Getting up, facing another work week. At least on the weekends I can hide in bed whenever I feel like it. Monday - Friday though, my company owns me.

I always get up really, really early on Monday, so I can spend as much time as I like sitting in my big chair by the window, or doing yoga poses while chanting positive messages to myself like: "you are not your job", "you're good at what you do", "you work hard", "if this goes away it's not the end of the world", or, "we are not curing cancer." It was easier when I had a cat to pet while doing that.

Today though, it actually worked. Guess who didn't even have a panic attack at work? This girl. It's actually a much more productive day when you don't spend your lunch hour in the bathroom with your head between your knees gasping for breath and trying to calm down.

I'm not blaming the work. My anxiety issues go much, much deeper than that. But it is a stressful environment that needs to be approached with caution. My bestie works in Diversity and she's around the corner from me at the office. She asked if I'd be comfortable sharing my story for an upcoming campaign of some sort they're having on mental health issues. Apparently tons of Partners have shared personal stories on depression and anxiety. And y'all know I'm the biggest advocate of sharing your story if it can help someone else. I out myself all the time on this blog that's apparently hit over 24,000 page reads.

At the office though, I'm not sure where the boundaries are. I put on a really good front. Yah, some of them know about this blog and read me. When they go to my manager with their concerns about how I'm doing because of something they read, I really regret telling them about it in the first place. To me work and the rest of my life are completely unrelated.

I remember once, during a performance review, Stuart (Margaux hearts Stuart) in an attempt no doubt to be helpful, told me that I shouldn't come across as so happy. He said as a blonde, it made me look hmmmm....not so smart.

I had the one and only complete meltdown I've had at work. I started crying in his office. He had no idea how hard it was to pretend I was happy at that point in my life. Every day. Smiling and making jokes when I had actually just got out of the psych ward for trying to off myself. It was a lot of effort.

At the end of the day, we all have pressure to manage and I'm totally grateful for my job. It's a wonderful opportunity. And if nothing else works, David Bowie and Queen can sympathize.

Sullivan out.

Keep Calm and Make a List

For all my A-type-ness, I had the perfect weekend. Dinner with a friend after work on Friday at my favorite bar in the world, home to bed early. Went to the Christmas market with a girlfriend on Saturday, picked up a couple of Christmas presents, home early, read a book, went to bed. Got up this morning and grabbed a coffee, got to work on my final assignment of the school term, took a break and went to yoga.

I love the Sunday 10 am teacher but she knows me and could tell something was wrong with me today. The panic won't leave me alone. She came over and whispered, "you keep shaking". I said I was ok. It wasn't the time or the place to explain to her my extreme problems with anxiety and how I'd had a panic attack on the way over. I made it through the class, picked up some lunch and finished my last paper. Did some work to prep for some meetings tomorrow morning. Called my grandma, did laundry, took a shower. Went back to the Christmas market in the freezing, freezing cold.

Now everything I did this weekend was super fun/important. But I almost didn't do any of it. When the anxiety takes over, I have trouble concentrating. I want to go back to bed. But that just makes me more anxious that I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing. So this weekend I made a list. Of everything I was supposed to do, what time and where. It makes me happy to be able to cross things off. I briefly thought I'd like to go to church again, but it didn't make sense to think I'd be able to fit it into the list so instead, I wrote down what I believed I could actually accomplish. If I could find the strength to get out of bed.

Surprisingly, everything is crossed off and I'm even halfway through my new favorite book, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I love the classics, huge Jane Austen fan. But zombies just make everything better. I guess part of me always believed in them since the JWs are so big on the fact that everyone is coming back from the dead. I think they just see that a little bit differently than the rest of us do. :)

Point is, life's up and downs can be scary and after what I've been through, most of the time I just want to throw in the towel and go back to bed. But if we force ourselves to cross all those important things off our lists, we might just start to feel happy again. Or at the very least, like we're really alive, and not just a zombie.