FIFTH Blogiversary!

CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE?! How has it been five years?!

It’s also hard to believe how much my life has changed since July of 2014. Back then, I was still living in South Philly with Deena and limping around in a walking boot because I had somehow broken my foot. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Walking boot, but make it fashion?

I had been in a relationship for almost a year (and would go on to date B for another year and a half!). I was a year removed from inpatient and thus had only been in therapy for that long. Seeing a male therapist was laughably unrealistic. Yoga was in no way an important part of my life (although I had already met the woman who would become one of my YTT teachers, as well as my sometimes therapist). I didn’t drive at all.

What a difference five years makes!

Sometimes, it feels like inpatient is when my life actually began. Which I guess is somewhat accurate—inpatient forced me to finally be honest with myself and others about how I was feeling. So that tends to be the starting point when I reflect on the recent past. And when I look back over the past six years, the only “accomplishments” that stand out are driving/getting my car and completing yoga teacher training. Of course they stand out—they’re fairly momentous.

Interestingly, they’re both developments that 2014 Jess never would have seen coming.

Something else about 2014 Jess? She was not psyched about starting a blog to talk about ~feelings~ and deep stuff. Even after creating this space, it took her a good two months to actually, you know, post something.

My one therapist likes to remind me that fear and excitement are two sides of the same coin. Her theory is that, if you’re afraid of something, you actually have an interest in it, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t react so strongly to it… with some caveats, of course. (Like, my absolute terror of bees does not mean that I actually have a deep desire to be a beekeeper.) But with the blog, I think her theory applies. Expressing myself creatively in this space ultimately excites me and leaves me feeling fulfilled in a way that few things do… even if publishing this post in August 2014 initially made me go, “Oh my god, I’VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE.”

But I didn’t. Posts like that need to be published. We as a society need to talk openly and honestly about mental health issues, and with my experiences + interest in writing, I guess I need to be one of the ones to do it!

I am so thankful for the supportive community that has welcomed me and formed in response to my writing. Mica, Bri, Lisa (my dear blog mom), Nicole, Tif, Becky, Crystal, Ashley (a true OG!), knowing all of you has brightened my life immeasurably. And for anyone who reads my blog anonymously or cheers me on via Facebook or Instagram, thank you. It warms my heart so much knowing that you are out there.

Let’s keep finding the sparkle! xoxo

Rebirthday #6

3-20-13

Five years since inpatient felt like a big deal. Six… doesn’t feel like much of anything. I didn’t even want to write about it! Like, okay, yay, I did a thing six years ago. What am I doing now, though?

Clearly, there is a part of me that beats myself up for not being “further along” on this whole healing journey (even though I know full well that healing is non-linear). I’m also super aware that I’m not checking the boxes of a typical 30-something: marriage, kids, house, some combination thereof. I try to remind myself that I’ve never been one to do things on the “typical” timeline (hello, driving at age 27!), but I do get there eventually… which I guess means that my forties are gonna be LIT! 😂

In all seriousness, I don’t feel ready to check those big boxes. But that’s not as healthy as it sounds. Rather, I feel like I will crumble under the stress and uncertainty that come with those momentous life changes.

When I was a kid, my anxiety—especially about situations outside of my control—was at times accompanied by big emotional and physical reactions: not eating, not sleeping, crying all the time, obsessive worrying... so I started to avoid anything that would potentially set off that avalanche of symptoms. The only problem is that I’ve learned that coping skill very well over the years. If anxiety makes every one and every thing seem scary, how do you get yourself to do anything? Not to mention that a trigger can show up in all sorts of unexpected ways.

Traditionally, I would only do a “scary” new thing because I was forced into it (by, say, a graduation, or someone else’s life changes). But this past year, I’ve actually chosen the “scarier” option a few times, and although the situations wouldn’t seem like that big a deal to an outsider, they were momentous to me.

In one instance, I initiated a very difficult, emotionally vulnerable conversation with a friend who I would have normally ghosted (so as to not have said difficult conversation). I also started seeing a male therapist, a scenario I typically avoid due to some unresolved guy issues.

These experiences are teaching me that I can handle more than I think I can. Did speaking so honestly with my friend leave me feeling incredibly exposed? Yeah—I felt like I’d ripped off my own skin.

But I survived.

And when I made the initial appointment with the male therapist (a suggestion from a different therapist who was leaving their practice), it was just to cross it off—to confirm my belief that I would be too triggered seeing a male and thus can only see female therapists. But that didn’t happen. (Full disclosure: this particular therapist has a very calm and gentle way about him, and that helps a lot.) Being emotionally vulnerable with a male does freak me out, don’t get me wrong, but it’s giving me a chance to talk about these feelings with a trained professional as I’m experiencing them. That just wouldn’t happen in the same way with a female therapist. It also gives us the chance to try to make sense of what I’m feeling, instead of me just running from the feelings by default.

I guess I need to remind myself that growth and change come in all forms. It’s not always the big box life events or the celebratory moments you’d post about on social media. It’s driving somewhere new when driving isn’t your fave. It’s being your authentic self with someone who loves you… and being brave enough to do it when you’d rather run away screaming. It’s continuing to show up for a situation that scares you. It’s the willingness to look at what is going on in your mind and your life so you can understand it better.

It’s one hell of a ride. The fact that I’m still on it at all, I owe to the girl in the ER six years ago and her very powerful decision. 💜

Rebirthday #5

FIVE YEARS. Wow. What a surprise, indeed. 

I could have died five years ago. Sorry to get all “seven strangers picked to live in a house” real right out of the gate, but it’s the truth. My thoughts had gotten so dark that they almost turned out my light for good. But I didn't let them. And today is the day of the year that I get to celebrate that for the huge freaking victory it is. I don't know if there is an accomplishment that I'm prouder of, honestly.

It's shocking that I can talk about all of this so openly now because I was terrified to admit how I really felt for a long time--eleven years, to be exact. Eleven years of hiding the impulses that scared me but felt like they would scare other people even more. Eleven years of feeling so deeply alone, even while I was with other people. I didn't intend to share my feelings on March 19, 2013, either, but I was so desperately in need of help that I just blurted it all out to my unsuspecting friend Kristin. She took me to the hospital the next day and has become one of my closest friends. (And we originally met through blogging! So if that doesn't speak to the power of blogging friendships, I don't know what does!) I talk to her (or at least bombard her with Pusheen stickers in fb messenger) every day. The whole wild ride ultimately made our friendship stronger. Certainly, this is just one person's experience, but I share it to show that it is possible to let people in to the dark and twisty parts of yourself, and not have them run away in horror. I have to remind myself of that on a regular basis, but I do know, deep down, that it's true.

If you know someone who is struggling with suicidal depression, I can say from my own experience that it was extremely heartening to know that my friends still supported me despite my dark thoughts. It must be scary, and possibly confusing, to hear that a friend or loved one is suicidal. But if you love the person, reassure them of that. This site has some great suggestions for things to text someone with depression. You can also just sit with them while they call the suicide hotline--that's where Kristin and I started. And you can go with them to the ER as a possible next step. We went to the ER at a hospital that she knew had a well-respected inpatient program in case I ended up staying. Which was my choice, by the way--the doctors didn't feel like I was enough of a risk that they had to keep me. My psychiatrist at the time told the ER doctor to just increase the dose of my antidepressant. But I knew that that would only make me feel the numb kind of "better" that eventually cycles back to suicidality. Over those eleven years, the periods of suicidal depression seemed to be coming closer and closer together, so I knew it would come back, and I wanted my life to be more than that.

So I said yes to inpatient, which is probably the most responsible, adult decision I've ever made. 

It's hard to imagine that good things will happen to you when you're trapped in the darkness of suicidal depression. But once I started taking my life back, a cascade of good things followed, and quickly too! Sure, we're not together anymore, but I met B a mere 50ish days after inpatient! DAYS! And in my depression, I thought for sure that I was unloveable! It's so wild to think that, at any moment, you could be meeting the people who will become very significant in your life, or you could be doing something that ends up being hugely impactful in the long run.

Let's recap some of the unexpected, wild, and wonderful things that happened after inpatient: 

April 2013: I start consistently going to therapy for the first time in my life.

May 2013: I start group therapy and meet B. 

June 2013: I move to Philly with Deena. 

July 2013: I go to my first ever yoga class, which is a total trainwreck BUT is where I hear about an upcoming retreat for women with trauma, which I attend--and that’s how I meet one of my current therapists! (She’s the one who does the retreats and the yoga teaching training.) 

July 2014: To Sparkle Punch is born! 

April 2015: I start exposure therapy for my driving phobia.

May 2016: I buy my own car. 

None of these things would have happened without that first step of seeking help.

Now, that's not to say that the past five years have been all rainbows and sunshine. B and I broke up. My uncle died of lung cancer and my cousin of a drug overdose. I moved back home. I had to find a new Philly therapist when my original one left her practice. The important thing, though, is that I don't turn to suicide on the non-sunny days anymore. I see my suicidal thoughts as being in remission--I'm not experiencing them now because I'm taking care of my mental health by going to therapy, journaling, doing yoga, etc. It's an ongoing process, and I still struggle in a great many ways. I mean, hello, two months ago, I couldn't eat, sleep, or sit still because I was practically vibrating with anxiety! I have a hard time leaving the house (aside from going to work or therapy). I struggle to see a future for myself, which I think is a known side effect of PTSD. But I'm working on those things. I haven't given up yet. And today, that matters more than anything. 💜

One year!

May 31st was my one-year car-iversary!! Which is still slightly hard to believe given my previous fear of driving! (You can read about how I did exposure therapy for that here.)

I thought it might be fun to look at year one (and my history with driving overall) by the numbers, so here they are!

1: Number of tries it took me to get my license (...after many driving lessons)

19: Age at which I got my license

29: Age at which I bought my car

23: Age at which I first drove by myself

3: Months of exposure therapy

10: Months between ending exposure and buying a car (😮 totally did not anticipate that when I started exposure!)

Hop in, Calico Pinky!

28.8: Miles to work every day

21: Number of highway miles to work

5:50: Time I used to get up in the morning for my public transportation commute 😴

8:15: Time I usually get up now

2:10: Typical length of my commute via public transportation

:40: Typical length of my commute via car

1: Number of passengers I've had that are not related to me (shout-out to Kate Reynolds!)

66: Miles one way on my longest drive to date

14,976: Total miles driven in year 1 (+ two weeks)

1: Number of times I popped the hood instead of the gas tank 😂

1: Legitimate near-accidents (a number my scared-of-driving-self thought would be much higher!)

12: Months as a car owner 🎂

Even though I wasn't driving before 2015, I had always thought that I would drive eventually--just some time in the very distant future. So when I got the keychain above as a present at Ring Mass in high school, I put it away because it was so pretty that I only wanted to use it on my future car keys. Fast-forward to me finding it a few weeks ago and honoring my 17-year-old self's wishes by adding it to my car keys. ❤️ Those "someday" dreams can definitely come true.

When you're ready, come and get it

Spoiler: I was not ready.

So I bought a car a few weeks ago! A purchase that was a year in the making! And when the time came on May 31, I still was not ready! Actually, that's not true--I was excited by then. Before, however, was a different story!

After I finished exposure therapy last summer, it became clear that I would need a car of my own, so that I could drive regularly and stay un-terrified of driving. But I was not thrilled about this proposition. Luckily, saving for a down payment was a great, indisputable excuse that let me to hang out in comfy noncommital limbo for awhile. In the meantime, I could borrow my dad's car and drive to work once a week, thereby not undoing all the progress of exposure therapy. Insert thumbs-up emoji here.

Buuut then, in March, I got my tax return back and could suddenly afford a down payment.

OH CRAP! was pretty much my mindset from March until May, although I did test-drive a few cars and work out my budget in that time. And my commute on public transportation was getting to be a giant pain in the ass. A normal person would have reached their breaking point with a four-hour-a-day commute long ago, but for someone who feels anxious in down time and also while driving, it was nbd. Or at least it had been. I couldn't deny that a 45 minute drive, in a car that was waiting for me whenever I was ready to leave work, was pretty sweet. Certainly less stressful than trying to make four Septa connections each way! 

A week or so before I bought the car, I was on the bus near work (connection #1) heading home when I saw that my usual train was delayed and that a portion of the el (which I would take in place of the train or catch later in its route after getting off the train) was shut down altogether. I jotted down what ran through my mind as I hyperventilated through that commute, so I wouldn't forget how insane it was:

This is your brain on public transportation: a jumble of train/bus schedules and back-up plans.

I could no longer deny the ridiculousness of my commute. But even so, the night before I was set to buy the car, I was having serious second thoughts, and poor Pops made the mistake of asking me about my lack of enthusiasm. "OF COURSE I'm not excited--I'm about to sign my life away to something that scares me! Why would be excited about that?!" And that's when I realized that I was actually having a very normal reaction for me. I have never been someone who welcomes change with open arms. So of course I'd be freaking out about having to embrace change, commitment, and driving all at once! IT ALL MADE PERFECT SENSE! I was right on track (for me)! And realizing that took away a lot of the worry and doubt. Instead of falling prey to my anxiety and interpreting it as a sign that buying a car would be a huge mistake, I was just like, "Oh, I'm exactly where I usually am in situations like this. It's just business as usual, ok."  And, lo and behold, I felt excited when I woke up the next morning! I was still nervous of course, but I wanted to pursue the trip to the car dealership as planned. I did play a pump-up song on the way there, but the rest is history!

No joke, this is my jam. And only the "club remix" version, haha!

As I had feared before buying the car, I'm still stressed about driving. But that makes sense too--there's no real way to get used to driving every day without having a car to, you know, drive every day. So I'm hoping that this residual anxiety dissipates with more driving practice. But so far, I don't regret taking this leap at all.