Swiss Cheese

My dietitian, once again, shared one of her fabulous analogies.  This time, it had to do with one of my favorite indulgences, Swiss Cheese.

Right now, I'm going through a major transition that has rocked my entire world.  While it is all good stuff that is happening, and great places where I'm headed, it's still left me incredibly unsteady on my feet, and I feel as if the ground is constantly moving beneath me.  That makes it pretty near impossible to feel like I'm able to stand on my own two feet.

Enter the Swiss Cheese analogy.

Imagine a big block of Swiss Cheese.  It's got those holes all over it that go straight to the core of the block.  Now, picture those holes filling up with different things - say, pimentos, pickles, other cheese, maybe even some mold (hey, it goes with cheese, right?!)  What we have is no longer a block of Swiss Cheese.  It's something that resembles Swiss Cheese, yet it's been overpowered by the other flavors that filled in the holes.

Ok.  Let's make it personal.  Imagine a person as a block of Swiss Cheese.  Standing tall, full of holes.  When things happen, when life happens, they dive into the holes and stew on what fills them - the argument, the fear, the stress, the family, the job, the financials, the stuff that is out of their control.  That person is going to be pretty unsteady, full of all sorts of stuff that negatively impacts all they do.

Now picture that same person, only this time, they choose to fill their holes in with positive experiences - like journal writing, exercise, healthy choices, good friends, and so forth.  These experiences fill the holes so that the core of the person is protected.  That way, when things happen, the world will still go on, negative things will still swirl around you, but they no longer have the ability to hit you at your core.  Instead, you filled the holes with self-chosen, positive experiences, and now when the world's chaos hits, you can let it bounce off and laugh.

Pretty powerful imagery in my mind.  Right now, I am so that block of Swiss Cheese, full of holes, constantly being attacked at my core by perceived threats to me and my safety.  However, I am (finally) working hard to fill the holes.  Seeing my therapist twice a week, my dietitian once a week, making intentional choices when it comes to eating, seriously attempting to add exercise to my routine, choosing a career change that will challenge me daily, and encourage me to be truly me.  All of those choices will fill the holes in my world, helping to protect and strengthen my core.

And one day, hopefully in the not-too-distant future, one day, I will be able to stand on my own feet no matter what is swirling around me.  (Knowing, of course, that my "support" team is only a phone call away!)

Lots o Lasts

I got a new job.

And I am SO excited!

I'll still be working in education, but instead of one classroom of kids, I get to work with an entire building of kids. It's going to be a different kind of work, but I think it's going to be equally as fulfilling and fun (once I get over the initial shock, of course!)

The downside of this new position is that I'm leaving my district.

My district.

I've worked there for 14+ years.

Same building the whole time.

And I have to say farewell.

As this new opportunity sinks in, I'm realizing that I'm hitting a lot of "lasts" right now.

Last field trips with the district.  Last round of parent-teacher conferences (I won't miss this a lot, but I will miss the connection!) Last time for the Art show. Last time for Science night. Knowing this past fall was the last time I set up my classroom. The last time I decorated it for class parties. Last time for the end of year celebrations. Last year for the school traditions.

Lots and lots of lasts.

That makes me anxious and nervous and really, really sad.

I know that with lasts, comes firsts.

And firsts can give me something to look forward to.

First time meeting my new team. First time experience a first day of school in a different place. First school fair. First day in a cafeteria. First school with a fireplace! First time playing in the Innovation Hub. First step into the world of leadership.

Lots of firsts.

And while they make me nervous and anxious and sick-to-my-stomach, they make me excited, too.

New adventures always mean you leave something behind.

With new opportunities come farewells.

Every "last" means you're heading into a new "first."

I guess it's good that I've been working on holding conflicting feelings without melting into a puddle of emotion, cause without that practice, I think this opportunity would have ended before it began.

Define Success

How do you define success?

Married?  Two kids?  White picket fence?  Labradoodle?  Salary?  Social circle?  Beauty?   Career?  Inner calm?  Physical fitness?

All of the above?

I thought I had a definition of success.  In my mind, you were successful when you reached the place where you were married, with two kids, a cozy home (not too big, not too small,) a lively and supportive social circle, a nest egg, a career that paid for everything, family vacations, a good education, and health.  One parent was always available for the kids, either due to job flexibility or being a stay at home parent.

Over time, my definition shrunk.  You were considered successful if you were married and had a family, with a nice little house and a few family vacations or stay-cations every year.  Ideally, someone was always available for the kids, and there was a stay at home parent until the kids reached school age.

From there, it further shrunk to involve a partner and a family with a supportive social circle, a safe home, and a healthy community.

All of my definitions of success involve having a family.

And here I am, in my late 30s, without one.  Single as a sliver. 

So if you ask me if I'd consider myself a success, I'd quickly reply with a definitive no.

Until tonight.

Success.  I have a great job, career, actually, that I love.  There is limitless room for growth and expansion in this career.  I am recognized as an expert in my area (which still makes me very, very uncomfortable.)  I have financial independence and security that I built for myself.  I have a home that is just right for me (even though I now want different) and in a safe area where I feel comfortable.  And despite all my health challenges of the past, I'm on a forward moving road to neutralizing my health overall, thanks to the most incredible support team in the world.

Success.  Family is not mentioned above.  Yeah, I have my brother and his wife and the peanut, whom I adore.  I get to be an aunt and enjoy the love that comes with that.  But I have no partner.  I share my house (still not quite a home) with the Pup and an aloe plant.  And I've kept that aloe plant alive for nearly three years.  Success.

Not quite what I pictured when I pictured success, but for now..... I'm working on changing my image of it.  Re-framing success, if you will.

How do you define success?

Construction Time

"I hope you are beginning to crack some of the windows in the house you built around you to allow some great things in, and perhaps, to allow some not so good thoughts to escape."

My dietitian said this to me the other day in my email check in.  She's so good it sometimes frightens me.  It's as if she knows what is going through my head, the fears, the justifications, the cover ups..... She sees it without my saying or doing anything.

And she's right.  I keep things shut up tightly so that nothing escapes.  I don't want to "poison" anyone with the toxic thoughts that permeate my mind when it comes to who I am.   The problem with keeping things shut up so tightly is that while I'm keeping all the not so good stuff in, so as not to spread the toxicity, I'm not allowing the good stuff to come in, either.  In essence, I'm perpetuating a fairly dangerous cycle - surrounding myself only with toxic air, and not allowing any fresh air to enter and replace the toxins with clean, breathable space.

I'm the one holding myself hostage in the dungeon.  I'm in the cell, but I hold the key to let myself out, too.  I've convinced myself that I'm doing it for everyone else's protection.  The truth is, I'm protecting myself.  I'm hiding myself behind the walls to keep out the potential pain.  Now I realize that I'm the one inflicting it upon myself, and until I let myself out?  That torture will continue.

My treatment team have been working their way over my walls for years.  Maybe it's time to start breaking the walls apart, and make it easier to let the fresh air into my life....

Tomorrow

Something weird has been happening.  

I am considering making two major life adjustments in the coming months.

I transitioned (fairly smoothly) from my dietitian of 3.5 years to my new one, 

who, like my therapist, is now stuck with me for the duration of her career.

I'm cooking real food at least twice a week.

I'm eating more veggies than I ever before.

(Yes, I know, I've been a vegetarian who doesn't like veggies.)

My career is blossoming at a rate with which I can hardly keep up.

And this week has been one of the busiest, most chaotic weeks of the year.  

Yet.  

Here it is.

Sunday.

A much needed one, as I finally have a day where I can stay 

in my jammies all day and snuggle with the Pup. 

And I'm sitting on the couch watching my favorite team play spring ball.

And I am thinking of the errands I want need to run.

Sunday afternoon.  In my jammies.

And yet I'm readying to go grocery shopping - my least favorite shopping behind clothes.

This is all positive, good, growth.  

At least that's what my therapist said.

So why do I feel like a stranger in my own world right now?

Positive movement = massive tears?

I know it's not gonna be instantaneous.

But when am I gonna be able to enjoy the positive?

When is it gonna stop feeding the depression?

Melancholy may make a good friend,

but I don't know how much more of it I can take.

Transitions

I've been seeing my dietitian for three and a half years, and it's safe to say that I've become rather attached to her.  She's seen me in the lowest lows of anorexia, and has slowly guided me back to what she says is a healthy weight (I still think I'm overweight.)  She's been patient while I threw tantrums (yes, tantrums at age 30ish) because I wouldn't eat another bite and helped me broaden my food choices.

My therapist and I have been discussing the progress I've made over the past three and a half years.  I went from someone on the verge of hospitalization to fully weight restored (I think it has been restored a little too much!)  It's been a drama filled, sinkhole riddled path, complicated by surgery, food limitations at school, and more allergies.  Progress, though, is progress, and I am grateful for the growth thus far.

This week, I will meet a new dietitian.  When I started with my dietitian, the goal was to learn how to eat healthy while handling food allergies.  Little did my consciousness know that I was hiding an eating disorder.  I was terrified that first visit, thanks to a previous dietitian I saw once, who scared me away from any and all dietitians.  Needless to say, our focus became weight restoration and maintenance.

This time, I'm nervous, but in a different way.  My dietitian said that sometimes people take you as far as they can, then it's time to move on.  I don't want to believe her.  I don't want to start over.  Even though...... I know she's sort of right.  I have to keep going without her.

I want to make sure to keep moving.  To keep growing.  To keep learning.  All the same principles I live by in my classroom.  And while my therapist and I have been working on this for a while - expanding the safety of my classroom to the rest of the world - I am afraid to put it into play everywhere else.

Most importantly, I want to give this new dietitian a chance.  I know she's not going to be the same at all, and that's ok.  She's going to come with her own perspective and ideas, and that's ok too.  And while my dietitian played quite the parental role for me, I know my new one won't.  Because I don't need that anymore.  Which, when I think about it, is a good thing.

What I do need is to learn how to eat balanced, how to manage my food intolerances while eating healthy...... and how to not let the anorexia return.  Ever. And maybe, just maybe, she'll help me learn how to like food? 

I hope she's up for the challenge...........

Farewell 2014, Hello 2015!

Well, it's time to let another year ride off in the sunset, as a new year approaches the horizon.  I don't know about you, but my 2014 was quite the interesting one.  There were definitely some ups (becoming an Aunt tops the list!) and there were definitely some downs (um, school troubles, anyone?) but overall, it was a growth filled year.

~ The highlights ~

I won a few technology grants for my classroom. ~ I presented at my first massive conference. ~ I jumped out of a plane with my best friend. ~ I did my first major presentation, speaking in front of my entire district of over 700 people. ~ I celebrated two years with the Pup. ~ I became an Aunt to the most adorable little peanut in the world, who has completely stolen my heart. ~ I paid off my car. ~ I watched my first class of students graduate high school. ~ I stabilized my weight. ~ I watched my niece transform my family, for the better. ~
I learned. ~ I risked. ~ I tried. ~ I grew.

Sure, there was a lot of failure and hurt and sadness and anxiety and
pain and fear and stress and tears.  But like the quote says.....
I'm going to try to see the possibilities instead of the pain.....

The word for 2014?  Possibilities.
For the first time in my life, I am seeing possibilities for a future..... for my future......

Guess it's time to bring on 2015!

Being a Grown Up

A while back, I posed a question about what it means to be an adult.  While that post didn't generate as many answers as I hoped for....... a recent experience shed a little light on this whole, mystical, "grown up world" that I am so conflicted in regards to my membership.

I had a rather unpleasant "grown up" experience the other day, one in which most adults are supposed to experience once they reach the ripe old age of 50.  I'm not 50 yet.  Nor am I all that close to 50.  But my medical history dictated the need for the nasty test known as a colonoscopy.  Now, the test itself isn't too horrid, but the day before?  The preparation?  It was N-A-S-T-Y.

But I did it.

And I survived.

And while I did NOT enjoy one single part of the whole experience, I knew it was something that needed to be done.

In other words......

I took care of myself.
I acted like a grown up.
Cause one of the requirements of being a grown up is taking care of yourself.

I may have "grown up" in the taking-care-of-my-body department..... which is definitely a positive step........ now.... to learn how to be kind to myself in the process of taking care of my body?  That's a whole different ballgame.... in fact, I don't even think we're on the baseball diamond anymore......

Sigh.................

Day 30: Letting Go

Letting go........ two simple words......... so many interpretations......

Ironic that this is today's prompt, as today, I let my grandmother go.  She graced this Earth for more than 90, very, very full years.

Letting go does not mean forgetting.  It does not mean pretending things never happened.  It does not mean that the past is erased.

Letting go means moving forward.  It means picking up the pieces and creating a new picture.  It means growing.  It means forgiving.

As I let go to my grandmother, I will not forget all she has gifted my life with.  I will remember the good, let go of the bad, and forgive the hurts. 

Letting go means so many things.  Let go of the bad to make room for the good.  Let go and let the universe open to you, to the plans it has for you.  Let go, and just be.

Grandma, you will be missed......


Day 30 Prompt: React to this term: Letting Go.

At last!

I had a pretty cool experience yesterday.  Or, more likely the experience of yesterday, months and months in the making, did not go unnoticed.  That's a more accurate description.

You might remember that a little over a year ago, I was in complete agony over my dietitian's maternity leave.  Actually, agony doesn't quite describe it.  More like, an unbearably intolerably excruciating inner ache.  Not gonna revisit that, but you can read more if you want.

Anyway.  Back to yesterday.  As I was heading for my visit with my dietitian, it hit me that it was three weeks since I last saw her.  Three weeks.  Three, rather chaotic, exhausting, long, weeks.  Three trying, frustrating, agonizing weeks.  But those three weeks were missing one thing.

In the past, when a week went by without a visit with my dietitian, I felt a desperate sense of longing, an urgency of sorts.  I could not go without my weekly visit, my weekly hug.  When we moved into visits every other week, that same longing was there, elevated at first, and while it did subside, it never fully went away.

Until recently.

Three weeks.  A few months ago, just the idea of going three weeks between appointments would have brought about crippling anxiety.  So you'd think that upon seeing my dietitian yesterday, for the first time in three weeks, I'd have that old sense of desperation and longing hanging around my neck.

Not the case.  Yes, I am just as surprised as you are.  There was no agonizing longing, no desperate sense of need.  There was just a sense of contentment in seeing my dietitian for the first time in three, long and crazy weeks.

I believe that I've finally arrived at what the psychology world calls "secure attachment."  This type of attachment is what I feel to be the healthiest, and yet, it's one I've experienced the least.  I have to admit, I was very excited to see my dietitian yesterday, and equally excited to share with her the news - that I now finally know that she's going to always be there for me, whether it's been days, weeks, or months between our visits.

Feels pretty darn good, if you ask me.

Deja What?

Have you ever had a deja vu experience?  I used to think I had them a lot and, oh, how I hated them!  I always felt like I was punched in the stomach when the moment passed.  Not to mention, the memories were never pleasant ones!  Seriously, who wants to go back and re-live painful memories?  I don't know about you, but I sure don't!  It always amazed me when people spoke of "fun" deja vu experiences.

From the time I was ten (maybe eleven, but I'm pretty sure they began around my tenth birthday) I have experienced these sort of "flashbacks" at often the most unwelcome times.  Like when I was at a friends house.  Or in the middle of a baseball game.  Or getting ready for school.  They always arrived unannounced, and always left me feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me.

I now know that these moments have been PTSD flashbacks. 

Funny thing is, though two prior therapists have told me that I have PTSD, I never believed them.  Somehow, though, my therapist explained it in a way that made sense to me.  She helped me understand what PTSD is, and how it "works," per say.  And after all these years, I now know what these moments are, and why they are not in the least bit fun.  It's not deja vu that I have experienced, it's PTSD episodes.

And this week has been full of them.

I was always very afraid of the idea of PTSD, or any sort of trauma, often cringing when the word was connected to me and my life.  It scared me to think that my history contained any traumatic experiences.  I worked hard to keep them hidden from my memory.  At least I know what is going on, and why I feel so discombobulated after each episode.  Though they last only a few moments, the effects linger for hours. 

The good news is that since we now know what is happening, we can look better at how to treat it, and to help me work through these moments.  After all, knowledge really is power!

A Foodie Post

It's no secret that food and I don't get along. With the plethora of allergies I have to deal with, it's no wonder cereal is my favorite meal - it's easy, it doesn't leave me covered in hives, and it doesn't wreak havoc on my digestive system.

Thankfully, my nutritionist has the patience of a saint and she's always looking for creative ways for me to expand my palate. Right now, we're working on increasing my daily intake of vegetables, and last week, she shared this great idea - creating veggie boxes.  What you do is prep and pack ahead of time, so that you have these little boxes, full of veggies, ready to grab and toss in a lunch bag, briefcase, whatever!

For me, the big task is getting things prepped and packed each day, so considering I can pack this up for the whole week? I'm giving it a try.  I bought my three favorite vegetables - sweet peppers, cucumbers, and broccoli. I washed em and chopped them and packed them all up!

I gave it a try last week, and surprisingly, I ended up eating all my veggies!  So far this week, I'm two for two in the veggie jar department. Tonight, I packed four days worth of veggie jars... wish me luck!

Adios 2012!

The Earth is completing it's 365 day journey around the sun, and another year comes to a close.

I am SO glad this year is over.

Here's to creating something better in 2013!

Continuing on with a tradition I started several years ago (read more about it here) I have dubbed this year the year of pain.  I know that sounds harsh and cold, but it is the truth.  There have been so many painful experiences this year, both physical and mental, I can't even begin to explain it.  2012 was hard and painful and unpleasant in so many ways.  I wouldn't wish the pain I've been through on anyone.

While 2012 was a painfully uncomfortable year, there is one big upside to pain.  It makes you appreciate the good that much more.  Cause while there was a tremendous amount of pain this year, there was also some good.  And maybe it's because of all that pain that the good feels that much more special.

I know that the pain of 2012 won't end at the stroke of midnight, but I am hoping that as we move through 2013, it lessens a little bit every day.  And I'm going to continue trying to take things one day at a time.

Two Years Ago Today

Exactly two years ago today, I decided it was time to reclaim my life.

I listened to my much trusted doctor and went back to therapy.  I was losing my ability to think clearly, which was negatively impacting my entire world.  My job, which I cherish and value, had become seemingly impossible to do.  Getting out of bed had become a chore.  I had lost control of my own life, from the inside out.

The past two years have been filled with ups and downs, successes and failures, and more pain than I care to express.  This is not, and will not be an easy journey.  My therapist reminds me that the only way out is through, and that the journey through is not easy.  She says it takes a strong person to go through the therapy process.

I didn't realize how strong I was.  Every week I show up for my appointments whether I want to or not.  Some days are better than others.  Some days are heavy with tears, others sparkle with laughter.  There are moments where I drift away from the room, and am slowly reeled back in. The best are when my therapist helps me laugh through my tears.

Through it all, I'm beginning to realize that while there are moments where I feel like it is pointless to continue.... this hard work WILL pay off.  It feels like we've only peeled back a few layers of the onion thus far, and I know that my therapy journey has a long way to go.  I'm going to keep showing up.

There will be times where I feel like giving up, like disappearing.... all part of the process.  However, exactly two years ago today, I was sitting in my therapist's office terrified of beginning, of trying to reclaim my life, of looking at things inside.... yet, somehow, in that first hour with my therapist?  I began the journey of a lifetime....

Looking Back....

I don't know if it's the season, or what, but today I journeyed back in time.... I found myself visiting blog posts from a year ago, and I think I'm pleased by what I've found?  Maybe?  Sorta?

A year ago today, I posted "Got Feelings?" on the blog.  The post was mostly about the fact that at that time, I was constantly fighting tears, and getting kind of sick of them!  The quote "I hate the moment when suddenly my anger turns into tears." was incredibly fitting at the time, because a year ago, I was still refusing to feel any anger.  I just couldn't let myself feel that emotion.  I thought I'd burst and be overwhelmed if I let myself feel anger.

Fast forward to the present moment.... yeah, I'm still battling tears, and I'm still pretty depressed.... BUT.... I have begun the process of learning to FEEL my FEELINGS.  All of them.  Yep.... even anger.  I still am working to identify some of these feelings, and the things that trigger them, but the good news is that I am actually able to feel them without exploding!  I think that's a pretty good accomplishment!

Still working on a lot, still dealing with a lot of the same crud, but at a different layer.  It's kinda like I'm reading and writing the next chapter all at the same time.  I'm rather glad that I chose to do a look back today, because I tend to focus on how much more work I have ahead of me instead of pausing and realizing that I really have come a long way!

Change

I loved the TV show The Wonder Years.  I loved following Kevin Arnold as he meandered his way through adolescence and puberty.  His family was very down to Earth, and reminded me much of my own - three children, always enough money, but never an abundance.  I kind of wished that I could have been in their family, because at least in the 30 minute episode, the ending always came to some complete conclusion, wrapping things up in a way that didn't always make a happy ending, but sure made things simpler.

Anyway, this quote stands out to me, especially right now, because I'm both fighting the new changes that are necessary at this point in my life, and also fighting the old ways that needed to be changed anyway.  Change is for sure never easy.

I know that while the recent changes in my life have left me reeling, and sometimes hanging by a very fine thread, yet they've also been very necessary as a part of my growth in recovery and overall.  It's as if I'm fighting to start fresh, yet fighting to stay the same all at the same time.  Almost frustrating, actually.  Or, if I'm being honest, it's really frustrating.  Being in that space where you know what you're doing is necessary, but you hate it at the same time?  Yep.  I'm there.  And while I know in the grand scheme of things, this will be a good growth period, right now it just sucks.

Stormy Weather

In life, there are huge storms, hurricanes, if you will, that uproot us at our core.  The destruction and devastation, in whatever form it takes, is pretty excruciating.

Then there are the storms, full of thunder and lightning, and maybe even some wild winds.  These storms definitely cause chaos, and wreak havoc in the moment, but their path of destruction is much smaller, requiring little more than righting patio furniture and picking up the sticks that have been strewn about the yard.

Finally, there are the breezes that blow through on a day to day basis.  You know the ones, right?  The breeze that makes an 82 degree day feel just perfect.  These do little more than cause a slight chill, or bring a nice refreshing breeze, making the wind chimes dance as they fill the space with music.

With all three of these "winds" the goal is that we as people learn to bend, no matter what the forces.  We are flexible, yet strong.  We have firm roots, so we stay within our space, yet, bending allows things to stay fluid, and even lets some of the old, decaying debris break off and blow away, leaving us ready to begin again.

Sometimes there's a rather lot of rebuilding (think: hurricane) that needs to happen, generally bringing people together to support each other.  Sometimes there's just a bit of clean up that needs to happen (think: storm) and then we're ready to go again.  Sometimes, there is nothing to do but enjoy the breeze.

Then there's me.  The person who falls apart at even the slightest breeze.  The person who turns a misty spring morning into gale force winds.  The person who doesn't bend, instead, painfully breaking into dozens of pieces.

That's where I am right now.  Facing a situation that in reality is a storm, but I'm acting as if it's a wild hurricane.  Do I like doing this?  No way.  But this "hurricane" reaction is how I tend to respond to every breeze that blows through.  It's pretty painful, breaking all the time.  I feel like I've been broken so many times where I was left to put myself back together alone, and I missed a few pieces.

This time is going to be different.  The hurricane has been downgraded to a storm.  And while, as usual, I'm picking up the pieces and putting myself together, this time, I have an instructional guide, and that..... that is making a huge difference.

Fairy Tales and Inner Dragons

I finally found a way to describe the inner turmoil that plays out in my mind on a fairly regular basis.  I've got this nasty little inner "dragon" that constantly is breathing fire down my back.  It's MY voice in my head that's heating things up for ME.

Well, it's time to hire a dragon slayer to help me slay the beast in my brain.  I know it's not going to be easy, after all, it took 30 years for this dragon to grow, I'm not going to be able to slay it overnight.  It's going to take some time to replace the voice that once belonged to others and eventually became my own worst enemy, with a positive one. 

The challenge is internalizing that positive voice, and making it my own.  Oh, yes, I have already found one to listen to, thankfully.  And once I internalize that voice?  This dragon's days are numbered.  (Yeah, I know, the number may be in the high triple digits at the moment, but they are numbered nonetheless!)

Our One Year Blog-a-versary!

Exactly year ago today I decided to jump into the blog-o-sphere.

This blog wouldn't have happened without the encouragement of a few special people.  I was stumped as to what to name my blog, since I wanted it to be kept anonymous, I couldn't use anything too obvious as a name.  It was then that a friend suggested playing around with my favorite color as the name.  Hence, My Purple Dreams was born.

Without the encouragement of another friend, I'd never have started the blog in the first place.  She invited me to join a small group of people working on ed recovery on Facebook.  The project started eight weeks prior to me joining, so I was a bit behind, but I didn't mind, and neither did she.  Thank you T & T, for your encouragement and support with this blog project!

In the past year, sooooo much has changed.  Some for the better, some changes are still in need of being made.  Along the way there were periods where posts were plentiful, other times, posts were sparse, but all the while, My Purple Dreams grew.  It is still growing, just as I am.  This blog has become such a powerful tool for me in every area of my life.  There is something very empowering about sharing my life with others - the ups and the downs - and being accepted and supported by my readers.

We're all traveling on our journeys, and I'm honored that you've chosen to be a part of mine for this past year, and hope that we'll continue to travel together for many more years to come!

Mental Health Matters!

As World Mental Health Awareness Day draws to a close, I have been reflecting on my journey over the last year.  Most notably, how much things have changed in the last year, and how much they are still the same.  Confusing contradiction, I know, but it's true.  The world has changed, I have changed, my health has changed.  Yet, the sun still rises, the stars still shine, the rain still falls, and the leaves still change.

The thing that hasn't yet changed is the stigma attached to mental health.  And even more, the stigma about eating disorders.  It is frustrating and sad to hear people speak of eating disorders as "fads" or "attention seeking."  It is frustrating and sad to hear people whisper about depression and anxiety.  If only they knew that in a room of 20 people, 5 likely suffer from a diagnosable mental illness.

But no one talks about it.  And if no one talks about it, the secrecy just increases the shame.

I've been talking about it.  Slowly at first, and quietly, and with a few trusted people.  But through the blogging community, I've grown stronger.  And braver.  And though I still struggle daily, the shame is decreasing as the secrecy lessens. 

In the beginning, things were definitely rougher.  Below are snippets of my journey that I hope will inspire you to try something new on yours...

Stress and Attitude
Got Feelings?
A Wake Up Call
What If?
Everybody Knows Somebody
Secrets
I Just Don't Get It
Self-Care vs. Self-Neglect
Caving, In a Good Way!

To close out World Mental Health Awareness Day, I want to share something that was shared at Psych Central's Blog Party.   The page is now full of amazing stories shared by courageous people.  When you have a healthy dose of courage, it helps to also have a bit of humor mixed in.  This video should do the trick!  Serious and funny at the same time, it is, in my mind, a great end to a great day.