Chapter 28: Therapy, Gratitude, Sometimes a Glimmer is Enough
Warning: the following blog deals with areas of mental health and suicide ideations that may be triggering. I won't take it personally if you skip this one. Based on the viewership the last few weeks, y'all skipping anyways. So f*ck it. LOL
"What is going well in your life?" My therapist RB asks me through the zoom screen. During our last session two weeks ago I shared that my mental health had declined and it felt like I was back at square one. The throbbing headaches returned. And the quality of my sleep had been inconsistent. The suicide ideations returned and whatever progress I had made over the previous six months felt like it was all for naught. And what actual progress had I made? I was still heartbroken. Though I tried to cautiously date since then, every "I really want to take my time to get to know someone" followed immediately with "I didn't feel a romantic chemistry" (WTF happened with taking things slow?) that reinforced this self-fulfilled prophecy that I'm destined to be alone the rest of my life. Whatever chance I may have had, I f*cked up because I have the sexual charisma of a dead fish. Every time I allowed myself to hope for a different outcome, I was left to pick up the pieces while they moved on to better, more desirable partners than me... Or they were over 6'0 tall.
I guess work at the DV has been going well. I received another raise in September and officially promoted as a Site Administrator though that didn't replace my primary responsibilities as a case manager. Rather I had the added responsibility of coordinating schedules for staff at my specific work site, be a point person when we'd have visits from Health Inspectors, audits for our grants, and facilitate tours whenever we had visits from prospective donors. On top of that, I had to oversee the data entry and billing for our site was all entered correctly and we remained in compliance with our various grants so that we could request more funding versus be required to give back funding. On one hand, it could be seen as a badge of honor and recognition that I am dependable, reliable, and pretty darn good at my job to be entrusted with these added responsibilities. On the other hand, my cognitive distortion created the anxiety that I had to be perfect; because any mistake from me would cause the entire infrastructure to collapse and the buck would stop with me.
I had a moment to survey the office and see all the little ways that our work space had become more organized and decluttered. There aren't boxes and boxes of old files and paperwork dating back 5+ years pilled up in the closets, those have all been moved into the storage garages. The storage garage filled with various donations of clothing, household products, toys, baby supplies, that was initially thrown together have been mostly sorted; items beyond use have been discarded and an empty unit was converted into a "Rose Apothecary" style boutique that clients can freely come and go and take whatever necessities. Maybe I can attribute a little bit of the improvements as leading by OCD example and setting a tone that we deal with enough chaos already with domestic violence, the last thing we need is to work in physical clutter. More so, I can attribute it to a style of leadership that treats everyone like a f*cking adult and capable. It's people feeling invested and proud of their work, and being empowered and respected enough to make improvements that they see as appropriate.
Another thing going well is celebrating the one year anniversary of adopting my pandemic puppy from my co-worker. I truly had my heart set on adopting a French bulldog after enjoying dozens of hikes and beach walks with Niko as well as puppy sitting for my friend Shay's frenchie almost 10 years ago. They were an obsession for me and a constant source of joy on my social media feeds. However the opportunity arose to adopt a 10-month Westipoo who was already potty trained. Despite the loss of consistent sleep, the stress and anxiety of catching fleas that seem to be immune to every single medicine, spray, pill, etc, and the one genuine panic attack from him freaking out and running across a busy street with a chair tied to his harness and leash, I look back warmly at the emotional bond and attachment I've formed with him. He's fully my child and been a source of emotional support when the rest of the world seems to crumble around me. On the nights I come home from work between 10:30pm and 11:00pm he's always there to greet me by jumping on me. There was one night recently when I came home from work and he wasn't there to greet me. Nomah had actually gone to bed and didn't run down the stairs to greet me and I dejectedly went to my room and cried myself to sleep. I don't even think I brushed my teeth that night. Ungrateful asshole.
I know why my therapist asked me that question. He wanted to remind me that there are things to feel gratitude about, when we are truly present and connected. It's an appropriate response to someone who just shared that he doesn't care about maintaining physical appearance anymore and had a moment about thinking of consuming an entire bottle of painkillers. But why do we need to always have something going well to feel like our lives are worthy? Shouldn't we feel that our lives are inherently worthy?
What do you have left to look forward to? The next question RB asks me. It's a question that I legitimately struggled with after I grieved my vision board and with it any hope for love, compatibility, and connection. I'm generally not one who prays much, but I've been reciting the "now I lay me down to sleep" (seriously, it's a super morbid prayer? Why are we teaching kids this prayer?) prayer at nights, hoping that somehow I would mercifully not wake up the next morning. I finally manifested a career where I didn't have to sacrifice my passion and commitment towards social justice for financial stability. I responded to a calling and had a purpose. But I wasn't happy. I was tired. Tired of fighting and feeling like no one was fighting for me. Friends who said they're worried about me, and then immediately fall off in their communication and zero follow up. The fallacy of social media where it seems like the world is moving on without you. The cognitive distortion that the world moves on because you left no imprint on anyone's lives.
I started blankly into the zoom screen and was struggling to come up with anything. I had committed to completing this 32-week blog series and I was nearing the conclusion. As was my curated countdown of Prince albums for #throwbackthursday. Once I finished those 2 projects, I was kind of done. The dreams had stopped as if my vision board was the last dream I had been living for. Tears began welling up in my eyes again. I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow; I just saw more of the same pain and heartbreak. A text notification popped up in the corner of my laptop screen that broke my trance. It was from my best friend. I was going to wait for after our session but RB asked me to check it. It was a screenshot from her gratitude journal and the day's entry read "overwhelmingly grateful for the best friends in the world."
And with that, I had an answer.
Self-actualized people focus on things bigger than themselves. They tend to see the big picture instead of only considering their own lives, and they may dedicate their lives to a mission, a cause, or deeper purpose.
It wasn't so much I had things I was looking forward to, it's things I was afraid to miss and promises I had made. I promised Piper that I would write an afterward to her memoir. With everything going on with work, this blog, and my mental health relapses, I hadn't had the opportunity to begin yet. But it's a promise that I was going to honor. "I can't leave her", I said tearfully but really to myself. I promised that I would always be there, assuring her that our failed attempt at a relationship wouldn't ruin our friendship. I didn't care that it kept the wound fresh as my heart broke again and again if she would eventually find love in another person; and theoretically vice versa, but who are we kidding? it probably won't happen for me. But I chose love, and love in the only way I wouldn't f*ck up. I want to be there to witness my best friend realize her dreams and send her off with love. Yes, my heart would break again, but I would never forgive myself if I missed it.
I wouldn't want to miss Connie buying and moving into her new permanent home. And when she does eventually lose Niko (whatever the lifespan of a dog, it's too f*cking short), I wouldn't want her to grieve alone.
I wouldn't want to miss any production Marissa directs and choreographs nor would I want to miss her receiving the recognition and acclaim that far too often are denied female creators of color. And just as I wouldn't have missed her grieving the loss of her beloved uncle Mikey, I wouldn't want her to grieve the eventual loss of her beloved dog Brooklyn (notice a trend here with dogs? They're f*cking amazing)
I wouldn't want to miss Amy eventually starting a family with her husband. Or if she never feels ready, I wouldn't want to miss the important milestones they share together.
I wouldn't want to miss Krista finding someone that is worthy and capable of reciprocating her enormous capacity to love.
I wouldn't want to miss Serena starting a family of her own.
On a societal level I wouldn't want to miss President AOC's Inauguration or insert any member of the Squad. I would be just as elated as President Ayanna, President Rashida, President Cori, etc. Stacey Abrams would be incredible as well. I'm tired of our nation led by crusty, generic White men.
"I choose to love. not because it's the easiest answer. or because it's the simplest path. but because I am the best version of myself when I am loving others. and doing what I can to make their time here on earth a little better.
so that's how i live.
loving first and not worrying about the return. it keeps life simple. and it keeps me true to myself." - Topher Kearby
It would be nice if I could find personal things to look forward to and reasons to live for. One of the complications of trying to live a "purpose driven life" is one must continuously, consciously create purpose. It's f*cking exhausting. Forsaking it all and living a hedonistic lifestyle, pursuing my own pleasure without any regard for others isn't the answer either. It may work for some, but I couldn't live with myself. Maybe the dreams will return and I'll look forward to tomorrow again. For right now I'm choosing love. To continue showing up for the people I love. To see the world steered toward a trajectory to be in a better place than where White Nationalists have left it.
That's enough of a glimmer to keep the light burning ever so slightly.
Portrait Photography: https://www.zacharyleeportrait.com
P.S. I read a social media post that Sade Adu is reportedly back in the studio working on a new album, which would be the first one in over a decade. I wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to see Sade, probably my favorite living artist, perform live. So that's one for me personally.
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