The Topic of Depression: May is Mental Health Awareness Month

I haven't been shy about sharing my struggles with Depression with family and friends.  Despite being thought of as the "common cold" of mental health issues, Depression can be a life-threatening illness.

Self-care is the mantra of the empowered.  Place your air-mask on before attempting to assist others.  Even if you're fully neurotypical, you're still living in a world that needs You to be fully present in the moment, with your own air-mask on and your hands ready to assist your fellow man.

The upshot of this is that I travel with activities to distract myself (knitting, reading material, a sketchbook), I participate in a support group for women dealing with similar illnesses, and I recognize when it's time to speak up and self-advocate for additional assistance.   Today was one such day.  I reached out to two excellent medical professionals who were able to help me combat the symptoms of acute Depression on very short notice.

We are an incredibly adaptive society, in an enlightened state of mind when it comes to recognition and treatment.  It is time to destigmatize mental health issues.  The brain, after all, is an organ in the body.  It deserves equal rights to medical treatment, does it not?

Although I've stepped away from Facebook for a few days, I have an algorhythm in place that will pick this article up and post it for me after a little while.  I have no doubt that some will question the professional wisdom of sharing this sort of struggle online.  However, to those questioning I believe I can answer with complete sincerity--destigmatization begins with individuals standing up and owning their own struggle. 

Sharing the struggle is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Be well, fellow Introverts.

Almost Forty and (Mostly) Fearless

White Plains High School (WPHS) wasn't my favorite part of life, but it was an important piece of the puzzle.  My class is turning 40 this year (happy birthday to the class of 1996!).  It's made a bunch of us think about the good, the bad and the ugly.

Here's what WPHS did for me:  Between the good, the bad and the ugly, it fully prepared me for life out in the world.  I am (mostly) fearless, and I have been since graduation.  The overwhelming message from almost all of the faculty and staff at WPHS was simple but beautiful (and wise...and kind...):  You can try for anything you want to do, just be willing to put forth the effort.

Math and innate creativity (encouraged by the rigorous arts at WPHS and SUNY Potsdam and the legendary MPA program at Seattle University along the way) have been the keys to a whole series of unique opportunities and amazing experiences in my life.  Here are a few examples:

• Being included in a college concert (isn't it fun that music is a language of math?) as a child.
• Being included in the Hurley's Nightclub Album 2000 during my time at SUNY Potsdam.
• Moving across the country (where I knew precisely no one...) to work with AmeriCorps*VISTA, Seattle Education Access, and Refugee Women's Alliance.
• Budgeting for the MTA for a few years which led to a guided tour of a tunnel boring machine sixteen stories below Manhattan.
• Becoming a Lion and participating in an amazing number of volunteer projects over the past four years.
• Including a sculpture I made during my time at SUNY Potsdam in the Bicentennial Time Capsule (we'll see it resurface in 2066!).
• Designing my own dashboards in Oracle Business Intelligence.
• And the best of all, my current job!  I wanted to be in nonprofit administration when I was 22, but I lacked the experience necessary to arrive.  Now I'm learning at the feet of the Jedi Master of Data (Beth Bellardini).  It is never, ever boring!

In nine days, I join the ranks of most of my WPHS '96ers and turn forty.  I am grateful for the blessings of my life.

Be well, fellow Introverts!

Kitchens of The Great Midwest

In "Kitchens of The Great Midwest" J. Ryan Stradel takes the small town and twin-cities narrative style of Garrison Keillor and pairs it seamlessly with the sinewy tang of an almost Laura Esquivel-style mythos.

The entire book is set (appropriately) in courses.  Each course left me wanting more than the writer was willing to give.  A warning--the book is rife with triggers for readers with multiple types of familial trauma.  As for me, I spent time laughing, crying, and turning red with sympathetic frustration.  There are very few two-dimensional characters in this culinary anthology of small (yet tall) tales.

Bravo, Potsdam Library "After Work" Book Club.  Excellent choice!  I won't be able to make it tomorrow until late in the meeting, but I can't wait to hear the reactions of other readers.

Family

I sometimes compare my family to that of the fictional movie "The Royal Tenenbaums." This isn't intended to be insulting in any way.  There are just so many shades/varieties of family involved in my extended Super-Blend.  It may sound strange, but I enjoy this Super-Blend even when things are difficult to navigate.

It is easy to lose touch with even the closest family members as an adult.  Further, I have found that you learn a lot about things in the past the more you listen to family as an adult.  With this combination of familial dynamics (a truly full awareness of my own role as an active family listener), discretion finally becomes the better part of being a daughter, grand-daughter, niece, cousin, step, and shirttail relative.  The responsibility on my part to actively connect becomes the priority.  Connection requires work, and therefore, keeping my own counsel remains the best way to work smarter in this regard, and not harder.

Quite a lot of home-grown wisdom exists to the affect of "Be still." Being in the moment and receptive to that moment creates the maximum opportunity to connect--to learn--to understand.

An introvert rarely needs to be told to be still.  But Being in the Moment can be difficult.  So many socially difficult situations are made worse by existing expectations. Examining the assumptions we travel with (and see the world through) is easier suggested than done.

"The Royal Tenenbaums" shows such an artistic, clean-cut set of complicated familial/emotional patterns of interaction.  Since the movie is stylized in a manner similar to a play, the examples are shown from multiple angles without slowing the rhythm of the piece.  The beautifully sad moments run counterpoint to little notes of happiness and hope.  The anger of a sibling or of offspring underlines the overall message that everyone in and around the family wants to be accepted and loved.  Everyone wishes to be heard, to be understood.

I see my family in clearer definition now more than ever, but still through the lens of my own assumptions.  It is the way that I love and appreciate each and every one of them.  I have many thoughts that are ultimately not worth the potential damage to communicate.  The beauty of having such a Super-Blend is that most times, I don't have to communicate verbally when our shared history is (by its very nature) so self-explanatory.

Life is complex, but love is simple.

Hamster Hands

When it comes to being excited and happy, most people have some form of "tell." The spouse of a dear college friend chews on his lip.  One of my stepsons flaps his arms.  I get "hamster hands."

What are hamster hands?  I'll tell you. 

When I was little, my sister and I had a number of rodent pets.  I noticed that when rodents checked things out or got excited, they would put their little paws together and perch on two legs.  Their little eyes would check out the situation, the little whiskers and nose would twitch in the air.  In my estimation, that was the coolest expression of excitement.  Rabbits do something similar.  Cats use their tails and ears to express excitement, but I have neither rotating ears nor extended spine.

What started as a childhood affectation (a rudimentary way to get quick acknowledgment in a very busy family) became second nature.  There are photos from my wedding where you can clearly see me doing the Hamster-Hand-Thing.  Trust me when I say that it's no longer a conscious movement.


I get excited = I grin widely and put up my little paws.

This week I have to fight hard *not* to put my paws up.  I'm excited.  I'm super excited.  I'm over the moon!  I get to see Brady (my older stepson) this weekend.  I get to see my mom and my stepdad.  I've accepted a new job with a fancy new title. 

I'm quietly letting go of the sheer amount of pressure that I felt not two weeks ago.

Be well, fellow Introverts.

Enchanted World Books

Due to a variety of fun medical issues, I spent a great deal of my formative years in a fog of medication.  Although it is fair to say that this is not a blanket excuse for some markedly interesting social behavior during those years, it certainly goes a fair distance in explaining quite a few things.  My comment to a close family member in regards to the impact of this time period:  "Imagine being on a bad trip (or simply blotto) for ten years.  You remember things, but aren't sure whether some of them actually happened."

Not all of the impact of the fog was "bad." This cloud or fog of medication during my youth provided a unique opportunity to develop a very rich internal life.  Poetry, art, and all things philosophical have been a mainstay of my existence since I was around six years old.

When I'm working on analysis of a new budget, or when I'm cooking a feast for extended family, I will sometimes vacation in my rich Internal Life.  My mother recently laughed after listening to me mutter and sing to myself in the kitchen.  She shared a distant memory of me singing a song about how I would never know all the things in the world (a travesty!).  My husband Romeyn knows that I like to be left to my own devices when I'm "vacationing" like this--he's extremely Introvert Friendly!

With this in mind, my family's acquisition of the Time/Life "Enchanted World" books led to an intense obsession with fairy tales and mythology when I was young.  I loved every minute reading these books--even the ones that were super scary.  I was very, very good at "reliving" or "replaying" things in my mind (stories, experiences, music).  I would imagine myself as a fairy secreted away in a tree.  Blades of grass became huge forests in which little people sang, and danced.  I peered into "Jack in the Pulpit" flowers and imagined hiding away, vouchsafed within the plant with one petal as a tiny roof overhead.  Children today have iPods and toys that interact directly with them.  I had simple toys, my imagination, books, and the great outdoors.

The immensity of what the "Enchanted World" books provided for me during such an interesting time of my life is exactly what prevents me from donating them individually or selling them off to be read by someone else.  I've reached out to our public library and offered to donate them as a unit, to be kept and read as a group until they fall apart.

We'll see whether this is an option.  I sincerely hope so!

To Donna Karan, et al:

Under-dressing does not constitute implied consent.

I don't recommend walking around in your skivvies, ladies.  However, it is curious to me that someone female walking around in their skivvies is seen as "asking for it" whereas someone in a two piece at the beach (sometimes even less fabric than the former) is not.

I like to shop conservative clothing sites (because most of it is darn comfortable), but it should be socially acceptable for me to wear whatever I want.  My clothing should not automatically reflect my preferences, politics, or desires.  It is clothing.  It's simply something to wear.

A few college friends of mine completed their senior choreography concert in the nude as a method of proving the non-sexuality of nakedness for the sake of nakedness.  I thoroughly agree with the concept.  There is some highly personal sharing going on when you walk around in the nude, but to automatically sexualize it seems perverse.

Around 2005, an elderly man was found in downtown Seattle, walking completely in the nude.  I don't believe that it made the news...folks helped him out pretty quickly.  I was there...and worried like the people around me.  The man required assistance, but no one seemed to sexualize his nudity as a matter of course.

The hyper-sexualization of female nudity must be responsible for the ridiculous double-standard regarding nipples. I'm a huge fan of the breast.  They're awesome from stem to stern.  But WHY is it unacceptable for a woman to bare her breast to feed an infant in public?  Odds are, you were breastfed too.  Aside from the biological purpose of the breast, the primary (outwardly) physical difference between male and female breasts is simply a matter of average fat surrounding the mammary gland.  Neither of these factors is objectively sexual.  The determining factor in whether a breast is provocative resides in societal norms.

Now, I am a fan of dressing appropriately for the occasion (for example, I like to leave revealing shirts at home when I'm expected to run a business meeting).  However, consider the double standard in play when it is hot outside.  A man wears what is basically a tank top and short shorts...he's dressing comfortably for a casual jog in the park.  A woman wears what is basically a tank top and short shorts, she's usually considered under-dressed for that same jog.

I repeat:  Under-dressing does not constitute implied consent.

The argument that any woman who is under-dressed is "asking for it" assumes that men cannot control themselves and would likely copulate with anything whatsoever so long as they could get away with it.  That type of mentality takes the double standard of "Boys will be boys" to a point of absurdity.  Further, the concept is universally sexist.

I don't pretend to be the authority on what all *might* constitute consent under different circumstances.  However, to me, it is fairly obvious that we need to take a sharp look at our societal norms and what these norms communicate about self-value.  Violence is not an acceptable response to nudity.