Panic Attacks

I read an article today about how people who have panic attacks need to just learn how to relax.  I read the entire article but did not process much because of that one line.  Mental health issues are all around us.  We can debate that they are “in your head”; or caused by media, internet usage, lack of social experiences; that they are the Big Pharma response to a modern society.

I have experienced panic attacks for most of my life.  They were masked through yelling or even what we thought was asthma or low blood sugar.  I would ramble on but the fact is that since I was about 16, my heart would start pounding so hard I could feel and hear it.  The edges of everything went fuzzy.  My entire body would hurt.  Breathing became so hard that I would fight myself just to take a breath.  (you know what that means if you have ever had a full blown panic attack). 

About 20 months ago they became full blown and every day.  Have you ever watched a TV show or movie where they show someone in a store freaking out?  Here is what happens: 

• ·         All of a sudden your heart starts pounding and you can hear it and feel it.  However, someone who is with you, if you ask them, will tell you that it is not pounding very fast.  (My blood pressure has even stayed within normal ranges during an attack).
• ·         Everything around you is clear but the edges become fuzzy and then it starts to feel like you are being jostled around on Black Friday, yet no one is around you. 
• ·         Your breathing becomes difficult and the more you fight for air the hard it becomes to breath.  You and your body are working against you. 
• ·         You feel physical pain.  For me, my shoulder starts hurting and my legs cramp up.  But it is a deep pain. 

I have had people try many things during a panic attack.  The worst things:

• ·         Telling me to calm down;
• ·         Telling me to breathe through it;
• ·         Telling me “I’ll come back when you are more calm”;
• ·         Sitting across from me looking like I was a child having a temper tantrum;
• ·         Freaking out and raising their voice, getting in my personal space.  I actually had someone slap me one and say “snap out of it”. 

What is the right answer?  I don’t know, everyone has their own trigger or triggers and everyone has their own way of getting through it. 

Separating myself, water and believe it or not rocking help.  I’ve learned a great deal about what my triggers are and how to walk away but I still manage to have more attacks than I like.  I’ve gotten better about handling them as well.  Whether a person has attacks once in a while or frequently;  gauge your reaction, educate yourself on reputable websites and physicians, talk to the person when they are calm, see what helps them because everyone is different but for the Love of God, please do not tell someone to calm down or relax because they physically can’t.  

Every Day is a New Day

After Monday’s delve into my journals, I was a little paralyzed yesterday.  I woke up with my usual schedule: coffee, scan of facebook, scan of emails, check the bank account, go back to facebook because the coffee has set in and then tackle the emails with the intent on putting in more job applications.  I got to the emails and had 7 “thank you for your resume/application, but….” Emails.  All in a row, it almost looked like they were typed by the same person.  I ended up on the couch, watching Season 4 of West Wing.  Not good. 

I have the tendency lately to just let things fester and overwhelm me.  I think when all the kids were home it was easier to ignore and not do that.  I had to keep moving.  Even when I had a job I had to keep moving.  Now, don’t get me wrong there is a shit-ton that could be done in this house, but none of it is on my mental list to tackle and the movement isn’t progress but just movement. 

Today, I woke up and started my daily routine again.  This time though, I am not paralyzed.  So that is progress.  I had 3 more rejection emails.  So what!  I had no job matches on WorkinTexas.com.  So what! My bank account is grossly low.  So what!  The WHAT of the day is that I was paralyzed yesterday but not today.  I am getting better at this picking myself up (oh do not think I do it alone…there is a bigger than I realized support system that helps me).  What I have come to realize is that it is ok to have a day like that; it is when the day becomes days, weeks, and months. 

So today, I am grateful for my support system.  I am grateful for my life.  I am grateful for the challenges it presents because I am learning and it has slowed me down so I can see or at least be open to seeing.  Today I am grateful.  

One who flew...

Today I actually sat down and spent about 3 hours reading my journals from July 2014 to August 2015.  All I can say is wow.  I don’t know how productive this exercise was because doing this almost paralyzed me.  My major depressive episode began after a pretty personal event, I may or may not get into that at some point in time (it is important but still too raw for too many people).  Reading the journal entries was almost like watching “One Who Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and I was every character in the book, sometimes all in one day.   I know now that a great majority of it was the cocktail of medications I was taking but it is spooky.  What is worse is the things I wrote that came out during the divorce and I denied they happened.  I don’t remember more than 75% of what I wrote happening.  Or I remember it “happening” but I don’t remember the details – you know what was said, what the emotion was, what caused that day – all I have to remember it are these journal entries.  The entries fly all over the place; they are illegible (and I have pretty good handwriting); they have date errors (where I wrote August when it was October); they are scathing; they are well to any sane person, exactly what my ex-husband called it “horrifying”. 

I remember an incident where we were going to try marriage counseling and for some reason they wanted to see us separately first.  I went and the first thing the lady said to me was “I’m here to do a psychological assessment of fitness on you”.  I don’t just remember it, I wrote it down.  I freaked out.  I also freaked out on my ex-husband, I was certain I was there for evaluation for commitment proceedings.  Now, after reading my journal, if that is what was going through his head, or even the psychologist, I don’t necessarily blame them.  How did it get that bad?  How was I holding on by a fingernail?  I wanted to say, how did no one notice? - but they did and everyone seemed to be doing what they could but, well just but! 

I got off all the medications except the anti-depressant and kept the anxiety meds for as needed.  I pretty much did it cold turkey (not recommended unless you want sudden rapid weight loss and three to five days where you don’t leave the bathroom or have sweats and hand shaking).  Life, however, came into focus.  Then I started self-medicating with alcohol.  I didn’t do it to self-medicate at first.  At first it was self-liberation since I hadn’t drank much, if at all, in 23 years but it rapidly turned into self medicating. 

Today, and l mean literally today, I’m alcohol and med free (under doctors watch).  More has come into focus and I’m really not sure I like it.  I’m wondering if the haze and excuse(s) and little bit of numb may have been better!?!?  Today, I have to take inventory in my life, I’ve decided to start in 2014 and work my way forward then work back.  However, knowing me, I may skip all around depending on the topic or emotion.  What I do know today, as I write this, is that I literally lost my mind and holed up inside myself, I have no REAL memory of about 18 months of my life and I don’t know if I need or want it back – the written proof has scared the hell out of me.  I do know there were real people there for me but I’m not sure exactly who or what they did or how they fit into the puzzle.  How do you make amends for going mentally unstable?   How do you hold your head up?  I’m hoping my “Storm has Run out of Rain”, but I am not so certain it has.  Terror or something above scared but maybe below terror is the word for today.  Ironically, even this, my breathing is normal; my pulse is normal and my thoughts are clear. 

Today, for the first time in weeks, I actually did something productive.  I got up; got dressed and went and taught 3 to 8 year olds soccer.  I had some sort of purpose and a few hours of unconditional support and love.  A 3 year old generously gave me one of her Capri Sun’s because I forgot water and she asked for nothing in return.  Oh to see life through the eyes of kids this age.

So how has it changed my perspective today?  Well, I am still in “self-discovery of what the F went wrong in my life” but it dawned on me that I have to live in the moment, that I can look back; I can analyze; I can see with eyes open; I can learn but I can NOT fix the past or the people in it and I can NOT keep falling back to the pattern and excuses that have been the yard stick of my life.    

Oh now, wait…do not expect some Pollyanna, my life has changed, I’m wonderful overnight change.  I’m still going to work through the process MY way.  However, you can expect that today’s revelation has set my mind and more importantly, my soul, toward standing toe to toe with what has happened in my life, accepting what has happened in my life, admitting to myself and maybe others how it has affected me, and learning to define myself by my standards and happiness and not other people.  

Striving!

Last night a very good and long time friend told me, lovingly, “You have to finally find yourself. You are always trying too hard. You want to prove that it was not you. You want to prove you were a good mom. But we all know that.”  She is right in so many ways and wrong in so many ways.  Last night I told her I couldn’t deal with the discussion.  After a night of sleep, I’m ready to address it. 

Yes, I have to find myself.  I am trying.  I do not know who I am.  I spent 25 years as Mrs. Kasperitis and 24 years as Mom.  I am still Mom but the kids are grown and as one of my kids told me, I have to find a way to re-write my role.  I’m not longer Mrs.  I also have to find a way to re-write that role. 

I don’t want to prove that it was not me.  Sure it would be great for everyone in my world to say I was perfect and did nothing wrong and it was all him.  The truth of the matter is that my blog posts and writings are helping me define my role in the last 27 years.  If you actually read my posts you will find that I have some self-discovery in my posts. 

I do try too hard.  I wish I could stop that but I don’t know how.  That is part of my journey. 

I don’t need to prove I was a good mom.  I know damn good and well I was and am a good MOM.  I do want to do right by my kids, acknowledge when I have done wrong and also transition to my new role.  But hey, it is great to hear from everyone that I am a good mom so you can feel free to tell me that J

There will be topics I write about that are depressing; that may hurt or embarrass my kids; that tell too much; that are self-deprecating; that will be many things…but they are my stories that I need to get out, I need to tell to someone, even if it is just a nonsensical website that no one goes to; they are my stories that I need to write to wrap my head around, learn and grow. 

I am striving to find neutrality around the events of my life; this is a process and more importantly my process.  I love the feedback; opinions and comments – they help me process and give insight so whether I like them or not, keep them coming.  Hope you all stay with me on this journey – faith, grace, understanding and acceptance is a gift that I have yet to receive or allow.

Reality Check about higher education costs

I saw an article on the news today about a Massachusetts girl who took to pan-handling and setting up a GoFundMe account because she doesn’t have enough money to pay for college.  She stated that she applied and got into eight different schools; that with merit and financial aid she doesn’t have enough money to pay for them and that this was done not only to raise money but awareness about the staggering costs of higher education. 

At first I was quite pissed off at this article.  She stated that she didn’t want to go into debt and her parents can’t co-sign on loans.  Well wait…so her parents can go into debt?  Or at 18 did she just word it wrong because she has taken on a cause that she isn’t fully aware of. 

I’m still pissed but not as much as I was upon the first five readings and watching of her video.  She sites on her GoFundMe page that at 50,000.00 costs is too high based on the 11 to 18K she has received in merit scholarships and doesn’t cut it.  She states that everyone told her that she was doing everything right and not to worry she could go anywhere she wanted.  Then she states that they were wrong because of the financial part of it. 

Some facts before I rebut this amazingly talented child:

Massachusetts has 107 accredited colleges or universities.  Out of the 107, there are 27 Public colleges or universities.  Of which one is even in her home town and ranked 156 in the nation, as a top-tier school.  Also, of note, this school’s tuition, room, fees and meal plan comes to about $25,000.00 for in state students.  I looked at the admissions criteria and unless she tanked her ACT or SAT this school would want her.  I looked at about 5 other public schools and a few private schools in the state and found almost the same information. 

So now the information I have for the parents and/or college bound kid…

• ·    If you as the student work hard for four years you can probably get accepted into any college or university you want.  The dream is there.  Unfortunately, at a cost.  It is there, though. 
• ·     Before submitting your acceptance letters, look at the costs of the school.  Does it fit within your budget or your family’s budget?  If not, apply, you might be surprised at what kind of aid you can get BUT be realistic.  Seriously, if your parents have saved no money, do not have good credit and the maximum merit scholarship is $18,000.00 and the total tuition package is $50,000.00 then going to that school may not be an option.  Getting accepted is wonderful but again, reality has to set in. 
• ·         Reality, the costs of tuition and room and board and meals and books and…and…and… is high.  I have five kids, three in university right now, I have done the research on the costs and why they are where they are.  Should anyone have to go into debt to get a higher education, NO.  Do they, YES.  It is a reality and one that has to be prepared for by the student and the family.  She doesn’t cite her parent’s situation, financially, but if it is just that their credit is bad, there are options.  If they didn’t save, there are options.  She states she worked three jobs in High School but what did she do with that money knowing she was applying to colleges that cost 50K a year to attend? 

Ok, so this young lady, while blaming the system is trying to do something about it.  I give her tons of credit for it, but again the reality is that what she has raised is 1) enough to cover the difference for one year; 2) doesn’t take into account all the extra’s that come with going to college; and 3) raises awareness yes but not in a productive way.

College is expensive, even public and state schools.  Private schools more so.  However, (wait for it…here is another list), the DREAM is obtainable:

• ·         The school you really want to go to is way up there in costs.  Have you visited the school?  Are you sure you really want to go there?  Have you compared them to another institution?  If this is really where you want to go have you done the math on the “debt” you may have to take on to obtain the education?
• ·         What is the graduation rate?  What is the job placement rate?  A big named school does not mean that it is the best place for you. 
• ·         Four institutions (I had two kids go to the same school), at my request, sat down with me and my child and went over the costs and what could be done and what couldn’t be done.  We did the math for an entire stay at the institution. 
• ·         You have done the math, how bad do you want it and what are you and your family willing to do?  For our kids, we were willing to take on the student loans they had to take out.  We paid the interest every year to keep it to the principal amount and I pay on those loans that have come due.  They each got four years of “your debt is my debt” so you can go where you want. 
• ·         My kids applied for every scholarship and grant that was available.  $100 bucks is $100 bucks; it will buy that Math text book.  
• ·         Every high school has a counselor’s office and most of them have an area directed at those applying for college to help them navigate the process and they usually have a comprehensive list of every scholarship available.  If they don’t, then do what I did and Google it.  I found some great ones out there from one that was for a Catholic Girl going to a Catholic University to a Forestry scholarship where all you had to do was write an essay on the affects of forest fires. 

I truly hate these types of stories.  Not because the cost is not high; not because most people will go into some form of debt to attend a higher education institution but because I don’t feel like panhandling and GoFundMe accounts count as creative or doing all you can. 

I’m sorry but get a reality check…as much as we hate the costs, it is there and is not going to change.  (Interesting fact, have you ever looked at what it costs for an individual student to attend high school and did you realize that your tax dollars, based on your home value, help pay for that attendance?). 

So your kid picks an institution, they get accepted, they get offered scholarship money and sticker shock sets in.  The tears and begging starts.  The bargaining begins.  What now…

Ø  First, be realistic.  What are your finances?  Are you going to help your child or let them do it on their own?  No judgment, it is reality.  If you are going to help what can you afford in five years?  Can you add an additional $200.00 a month to your monthly bills?  Can both you and your child do it together?  College tuition isn’t about the first year it is about four years and how you handle the after effect. 

Ø  Reality Check…no institution offers a full ride and unless your parents saved all their lives; are rich; or you win the lottery, loans will be what helps you obtain the dream you set for yourself. 

Ø  Stafford Loans.  These are done in increments based on the year you are in school.  So if you are starting with enough credit to be a freshman but change to a sophomore in January, then you get more in January.  If you start as a sophomore because you go in with enough credit then you get the sophomore rate.  Yes, these are loans that have to be paid back.  But they are incremental, you take them if you need them and depending on your parent’s financial status they are either unsub or sub loans (interest vs. no interest).  Keep in mind, pay the interest at the end of the year if you get an unsub loan then when it comes due you are only paying principal back.  The interest is not that much at the end of each year.

Ø  Pell Grants.  Of course these are need based.

Ø  Parent Plus loan.  Ok, so your parent doesn’t have credit that can get this.  Some schools have a situation set up that if your parent applies and is denied, you receive an additional $4000.00 for the year.  Yes, again, it is a loan that has to be paid back. 

Ø  Work Study.  Oh yes college is fun but if you want to go and money is an issue, then work study should be in your future.  You can have it so you get paid a certain amount and the rest goes to the school or have the entire amount of your “paycheck” go to the school. 

Ø  Is the school’s financial aid department your best friend?  Private schools have access to every grant, fund, and money available to anyone.  Have you asked?  I always did and then when my kids started school they did too.  I found that if you (parent or student) write out your story and send it to the school that the financial aid officer may be able to find money in the grants fund to help.  Money that was allotted to a student who decided not to go or dropped out after one semester.  If you don’t ask, you won’t get and the worst that can happen is they say “Sorry, no”.  Also, this is something that has to be done each semester, not just one time. 

Ø  What is your field of study?  Call the department head, set up a meeting.  Are there any department scholarships?  Are there any jobs?  Do they have a lead on a MAP or paid internship?

Ø  Have you applied to every scholarship that is available?  I remember at my youngest daughter’s award ceremony seeing one girl who had some 27 scholarships they added up to about $40K.  She put in for everything she could. 

Ø  Have you bid the schools against each other?  Here is how this works, and keep in mind, not all schools will do this but some will, School A gives you X amount and you get X amount but you are still short.  School A says that is all they can do.  You call School B (and down the line) and say this is what School A offered, this is what I have and I need to talk to someone to see what we can do.  

Look, it isn’t easy.  School costs should not be so high -  but it is and that is a reality.  Too many people start planning their senior year in high school; these are discussions and plans that should be happening no later than freshman year of high school.  Kudos to this girl for getting creative.  Kudos to this girl for not wanting debt.  Shame on her parents and the school for not walking her gently through the realities of the world. 

Every one of my kids was or is able to go to the school they wanted but we took on the loan debt.  They worked hard, they did it right and I learned by trial and error but we made sure that if they could articulate why the school was where they wanted to go we did everything in our power to do it.  Debt for college is just a fact of life and how much of it you carry depends on how you accept the reality and upon how much work you actually do.  Standing on the street corner is not “everything you can do”.  That is the easy way out.  That is getting money you didn’t earn and it might help cover your books or meal plan or from my knowledge of institutions up north, one semester of health insurance, but does it make you feel worthy of the institution you are going to because you don’t want “debt”. 

Check the champagne taste on a beer budget if you’re not willing to work for it.  

Musings from a busy mind about journals

When I was about 10 years old we had to make a journal.  You know construction paper, three hole punched and tied with string.  Our teacher told us to take it home, the only grade was making the journal and not whether we wrote it in.  She stated flat out she did not want to see it.  The journal and what went in it was ours. 

So I took mine home and tried to think of things to write.  Back then I thought it was cool that I could write whatever I wanted and no one would read it.  So I proceeded to fill the pages with every curse word I could think of.  I still have that journal and it is amazing how easy those words were to spell and write.  Even today my mouth and writing take off like a drunken trucker.  However, at age ten the flowed and it was funny, forbidden and no one was ever going to see it. 

I hid my journal on the top of the shelf that sat on my dresser.  I am not sure why I hid it because no one was supposed to see or read it but I thought “I have a younger brother so I had better put it up”.  On top of my shelf was perfect, who would think to look there and if they did, it said “Pam’s Journal – Private keep out or else!”  Well somehow, for some reason my step-mother found it and read it.  She didn’t quietly put it away.  She sat on my bed waiting for me to get home and flagged it in front of my face.  Telling me how humiliated and horrified she was; who did I think I was; where did I fucking learn to use words like that (yes that is an exact quote); and she stood up, threw it on the floor, told me she was disgusted with me and that I was grounded to my room for a week. 

In 7^th grade our English teacher wanted us to keep a journal.  Again, with the promise that no one would read it but in this instance we were given catch phrases and all she would do was check to make sure we were writing.  I sat in class and couldn’t think.  After class I just sat there and cried.  She couldn’t figure out what was going on.  Through the sobs, I told her what had happened at age 10.  She said, you have to do this, it is part of the curriculum and I promise I won’t read what you write.  I got sick with strep throat and my assignments were sent home.  This included my journal.  This teacher had lovingly written me a note that she had not read anything but wished I felt better and had started the next five pages with the topics the class had done while I was out and she hoped I felt well enough to write.  The weekend approached and I came out to dinner to find my journal on the table and my step-mother shaking her head saying she thought that this issue was resolved and that what she was reading in the journal was just stupid and wrong and I had no right to discuss matters that happened in the house with anyone.  Through my tears, I tried to explain, it didn’t matter.  She kept the journal (I have never seen it again), what I do know is that at school on Monday the teacher kept me after class and said that I didn’t need to write in the journal again and that instead she would give me a writing prompt based on whatever reading assignment we had for that week and I was to spend journal time writing on that and turn it in to her.  She also added that if I could not finish it, I was to leave it with her and could work on it the next day.  At the time, I didn’t understand.  Today, I realize that my step-mother probably called the school.  I still can see that teacher’s sad face, full of pity, in my head. 

When I turned 14 someone gave me this beautiful Japanese covered journal/diary.  I hesitated but decided to use it.  However this time; I was going to hide it.  I wrote in it off and on over the course of 3 years.  I hid it too.  My stereo had a framed bottom and it went under there every night and I carried it with me anytime I left the house.  At some point, I hid it away and just found it three weekends ago.  If my step-mother was shocked I had written “Fuck” at age 10, she would have had a heart attack over what was contained in that journal. 

Over the course of my marriage, I would write when I felt particularly hurt by myself, my marriage, the kids, other people or my husband.  My now ex-husband saw it as a way that I kept track of all the issues, faults, blames.  Once when we were trying to work past something, I tore out the pages and burned them in front of him.  I remember declaring “this is it, I’m getting rid of the past, and this is a symbol of letting go”.  Knowing me, I rambled on for thirty minutes with my symbolic gesture. 

When I had my breakdown in 2014, my therapist told me to start a journal again.  The anxiety welled up and I explained why.  She told me that the journal was to be different this time.  She wanted two things.  One was a pen flowing write without thinking.  Put down your emotions, thoughts, feelings, fears and everything and just let the pen flow, if you stop to “think” then stop writing.  The second journal was to be specific.  The I feel…I think…I want… type of journal.  As an organized, methodical person, I needed something so I thought Ok because at that time everything was swirling in my head and I couldn’t get a grasp on any one thought. 

Now let me say, right or wrong, I have read my husband’s text messages and even emails over the course of our marriage.  Until the end, he didn’t seem to care and if he did he didn’t say anything and I usually set his passwords.  However, I NEVER read my kids journals, notes or anything.  If I found a notebook on the table I put it on their bed.  If there was a note to or from a friend, I left it on their desk or bed.  It was not hard for me to not read it.  I would clean their rooms and ignore anything that looked personal.  Why my husband’s but not my kids?  Well from what I can gather, today, my kids talked to me and when they holed up, I let them have that time.  My husband, he didn’t share and sometimes, looking at those things was the only way I could gain some insight into what he was thinking or feeling or who he was talking to.  At least that is how I justified it.  When he started holding on to his phone like it was his life line; when he changed passwords, when he put security codes and alerts on things, it was not an alert that I had invaded his privacy but an alert that he had something to hide.  Sitting here today, I think it was a little of both.  How much life would have been easier if we had discussed the issues together with some compassion, but we didn’t.  He had so much to hide.  I did too, but I didn’t write it or text it.  After 27 years there are still things about his childhood I only have bits and pieces of.  He would hide when he went out and where and with whom.  He would hide money.  He would hide his emotions and many other things.  I’d love to know why, not that knowing would change anything.  I keep thinking my first clue on how he handled his thoughts and emotions was in 1990 when we moved in together and his mother was coming to visit.  I found out the day she was arriving that he had not told her we were living together.  We had been living together for three months and his response was “she didn’t ask me”.   He just doesn’t and didn’t share; he doesn’t and just didn’t share many things.  I felt and to this day still feel like I wasn’t worthy of his life or sharing of it.  I want to say I shared, but what I did was vent or ranted about my feelings, looking for justification, acceptance and validation.  I over-shared and when I hid things it was because I knew the look, comment, or step-mom shame that was going to come.  

Before the final move out I found out that the journal I had been keeping, he had read.  His words were that he was “horrified” over what he had read.  I was “horrified” he had read it.  His excuse was that I left it on the table so he just figured I meant for him to read it.  I went back to trying to hide the journal again and then eventually stopped writing.  I myself had not even re-read anything I wrote, even to this day.  That wasn’t the purpose and I tried explaining that.  The journal was to give an outlet to a flow of emotions and thoughts and wasn’t meant to be understood, that it was an in the moment thing.  He didn’t answer to that and even at our last therapy session accused me of looking in on him and admitted to reading parts of my journal and we argued over whether he said the entries were “disgusting” or that he was “horrified”.  There was no talk of understanding, invasion of privacy on his part, sharing, I had just been told that my thoughts, feelings, expressions were horrifying.  I flashed back to the 10 year old journal being flapped in my face while being yelled at. ***Hint of a lesson learned:  Don't read other peoples shit unless it is public; meant for you or shared with you.  So if he is hiding his text messages - let him - Karma will come around.  Read what is meant for your eyes and if you don't like it move on but don't demean the person who wrote it.  

Today, as I write this, I have not reread my journal from 2014 and 2015.  I have not written in it since the last marriage counseling session.  My “now” therapist knows this story and said to give up on the journal and diary and write with more purpose.  That I’m past letting the emotions flow and need to get control of them and that blogging or writing to an audience will MAYBE help me with that. 

I thought great, I’ll try that, I may have something that helps someone else; I have plenty to say; I can be funny and insightful.  Last night, I found myself refreshing the blog stats page and being miffed that I had one follower.  No guilt people, really, there is a point.  The point:  I woke up at 2 a.m. today and realized that the “audience” my therapist was talking about was ME. 

So do my topics flow?  I don’t care.  Are they interesting?  Well, I would like to say I don’t care but I hope they are but I will say I am not really worried if anyone finds them interesting.  Does anyone care what I have to say?  Yes, I DO, however, I’m keeping the point of my therapist in mind that I am the one who has to care.   Do they help anyone?  Well, again I hope so but I know they are helping me.  So I’m going to keep writing.  You can keep reading or not.  One day the tide of my blog and FB page may turn but until I figure out what is going on in life, until I feel like I’ve told myself MY story, I’m just going to keep writing and remember that right now my audience is ME.  Oh and I’m going to keep dragging anyone who is interested along J

Tips to Survive that Empty Nest

Tips for surviving empty nest “syndrome”:

• Admit, if only to yourself, you are secretly happy they are moving out. For me it was a sign of a job well done. All my kids went to college, survived high school (mostly unscathed). I had prepared them the best I could and hadn’t I been complaining for at least 20 years about how loud the house was?
• I have five kids. I did wave goodbye while holding back tears five times in the course of six years. At least one, if not all of these kids said “so now you will become the cat lady”. I loudly reminded them that no more kids, no more pets. Ok, so now I have three dogs and four cats. Most of them taken in after a kid left for college. 

• Remind your kids that the tears are that of happiness for them doing such a great job and that you have a life, social life, hobbies and things to do.
• When they leave, retire to your bathroom and close the door. Breathe so the anxiety of “what the hell am I going to do now without 5, 4, 3, 2 or 1 kid(s) at home” can sink in.
• I found this one on the internet: “consider applying for a sabbatical – a year in Paris, Rome, Vienna. You’re a free agent now, why not? Then remember that you are not, in fact, a professor”. I’ll only add to this that while they have left for college, they are coming back, even if it is only for a break or to steal food from your fridge.
• Go to sleep at 10 p.m. There is no one here to make fun of you. Turn on the movie that they did make fun of you for watching (for instance I have never seen Lion King in its entirety – so I bought it and watched it).
• Don’t freak out when you wake up at 2 a.m. wondering where "that kid is"
• Do refrain from texting or calling “the kid” or worse seeing them on FB and asking, “what are you doing? Why are up? Don’t you have class?”
• Date younger men but keep it within a gap – say a minimum of five years older than your oldest kid.
• Date older men but keep it within a gap – say a minimum of five years younger than your father.
• Practice living in the moment. Give that up and admit that would take serious prescription drugs for you to live in the moment. Make a note to call psycho-pharmacologist.
• Decide to make plans instead: Tennis lessons, wine-tasting classes, lectures at the Y, theater tickets, foreign language immersion. Quickly realize that the only person more over-scheduled than you is an Upper East Side toddler.
• This is a big one - Rejoice that you no longer have to cook a healthy dinner every night. Oh hell, who cooks healthy every night, rejoice that you DO NOT HAVE TO COOK. Eat chocolate fudge brownie ice cream in bed while watching re-runs of Law and Order. Wash it down with red wine and feel virtuous that you are getting your anti-oxidants.
• Face cold hard fact that if this continues you will weigh 500 pounds. Vow to eat more healthily. Buy a plethora of locally-grown fruits, vegetables and antibiotic-free lean white meat. Forget that you are only feeding one. Throw half of it out a week later.
• Log on to kids college website where there is a live webcam trained on the quad that makes anyone walking by appear to be a worker ant. Wonder if one of those ants is your kid. When someone at work catches you at this for the, oh, fifteenth time, explain that you are doing wild life research. Make a note to close office door before sixteenth time.
• Most importantly - Get a life – you did your job AND remember, they are 18 and you can’t get arrested, ticketed or in trouble for something they do

Grasping...understanding...grasping at understanding

I spent a good deal of my life with the “because I said so” attitude.  Not just BY me but TO me. 

As a result, I know now, that I am this person that cannot understand fully a situation or answer unless I have a reason that logically makes sense in my head.  Even when I have put my own thoughts or feelings on someone else, part of my brain desires an answer and one that makes sense to ME and to what I am feeling or thinking.  Yesterday, someone told me that typically women’s minds work from the emotional to the logical or from the mid-point radiating out.  I’ve thought about this and on inter-personal issues my brain seems to go from the emotional to an outright desire and need to the logical; for other people’s issues I start at the mid-point and radiate out to the emotional and logical; and for business or disconnected situations I start at the frontal cortex of logical and sometimes get to the emotional. 

The hardest part I have had with my divorce has been the changing stories over the reason for the divorce.  See, there was a plan for when the last kid left.  There were discussions over how could people just walk away from a 20+ marriage.  Then it happened.

The disassociation signs were there but 1) I was on lots of medication after a major depressive episode so I couldn’t see it; and 2) I didn’t want to see it. 

Putting the signs aside, hell the signs over the course of 27 years, the reason(s) given made no sense.  Other people have stayed together.  They weathered abuse; extra marital affairs; money issues; and laundry lists of other things.  Why? 

I want to list all of the “reasons” that were given to me here.  I have even typed them three times.  Typing them makes me mad because they even seem more nonsensical in writing. 

Again, I went to the “Almighty Google”.  I’ve read about five hundred stories on “why my marriage…” (insert dissolved; broke down; ended – all the words fit).  None of those stories, today, help.  They are excuses.  As I type, the first thing that popped into my head was the song “What hurts the most”.  Oh it is a great song.  Sad!  It sums up the hurt – NOT. 

What I want is an honest answer.  I want an honest appraisal of 27 years of my life.   I want an honest reason.  Am I ready for that?  HELL NO.  Is it what I want?  HELL YES.  Will it help?  Probably not, maybe…

So what now?  TRY…try to:

·         Not over think.  It diminishes the value of my life and what has been accomplished. 

·         Accept.  Accept blame, fault, faults, good times, change. 

·         Love.  Love life.  Love myself. 

·         Let go of the hate.  Easy to say, hard to do. 

·         Realize.  Realize there is no real answer.  Things change; life changes; love changes; people change and as a friend recently told me “I don’t need to explain why I feel the way I do, I just do feel that way”. 

So what do I do today?  Today, I write; I think; I bug my support system; I bare my soul; I do what I want and try and not over think, and to accept, and love, and let go and realize.   Most of all, I remind myself that it is ok to want but when I don’t get it I have to try and…wait for it…not over think, and to accept, and love, and let go and realize. 

*&@^&!$@ - only because I don't have a better title!

I spent a good deal of my life with the “because I said so” attitude.  Not just BY me but TO me. 

As a result, I know now, that I am this person that cannot understand fully a situation or answer unless I have a reason that logically makes sense in my head.  Even when I have put my own thoughts or feelings on someone else, part of my brain desires an answer and one that makes sense to ME and to what I am feeling or thinking. 

The hardest part I have had with my divorce has been the changing stories over the reason for the divorce.  See, there was a plan for when the last kid left.  There were discussions over how could people just walk away from a 20+ marriage.  Then it happened.

The disassociation signs were there but 1) I was on lots of medication after a major depressive episode so I couldn’t see it; and 2) I didn’t want to see it. 

Putting the signs aside, hell the signs over the course of 27 years, the reason(s) given made no sense.  Other people have stayed together.  They weathered abuse; extra marital affairs; money issues; and laundry lists of other things.  Why? 

I want to list all of the “reasons” that were given to me here.  I have even typed them three times.  Typing them makes me mad because they even seem more nonsensical in writing. 

Again, I went to the “Almighty Google”.  I’ve read about five hundred stories on “why my marriage…” (insert dissolved; broke down; ended – all the words fit).  None of those stories, today, help.  They are excuses.  As I type, the first thing that popped into my head was the song “What hurts the most”.  Oh it is a great song.  Sad!  It sums up the hurt – NOT. 

What I want is an honest answer.  I want an honest appraisal of 27 years of my life.   I want an honest reason.  Am I ready for that?  HELL NO.  Is it what I want?  HELL YES.  Will it help?  Probably not, maybe…

So what now?  TRY…try to:

·         Not over think.  It diminishes the value of my life and what has been accomplished. 

·         Accept.  Accept blame, fault, faults, good times, change. 

·         Love.  Love life.  Love myself. 

·         Let go of the hate.  Easy to say, hard to do. 

·         Realize.  Realize there is no real answer.  Things change; life changes; love changes; people change and as a friend recently told me “I don’t need to explain why I feel the way I do, I just do feel that way”. 

So what do I do today?  Today, I write; I think; I bug my support system; I bare my soul; I do what I want and try and not over think, and to accept, and love, and let go and realize.   Most of all, I remind myself that it is ok to want but when I don’t get it I have to try and…wait for it…not over think, and to accept, and love, and let go and realize.  

Longevity equaling Validty

 Today I read a statement that said “The longevity of a relationship does not determine its validity”. 

My first thought was “what the hell am I supposed to do with that?”  Seriously, you spend 27 years with someone – that has to mean something right?  You have built careers, a home, had kids, celebrated and stayed despite…

Then it ends. 

Forget the “Stages of Grief”, those are the obvious.  What is hidden beneath is the mental abuse you put yourself through.  How bad was it really?  Am I that unlovable?  What if I had gone left instead of right back in 19__?  Did we stay together because of the kids?  Did we stay together because we were lazy?  Was our marriage lazy?  My mental abuse questions can go on and on, but you get the idea.  Therapist, blogs and articles on the World Wide Web, try and tell you various aspects of advice on this issue.  Ultimately, they all seem to lead back to saying something like:  remember your self-worth; focus on you; rediscover yourself; focus on the future; relive just enough to not make the same mistakes again. 

Not helpful.  Really…not helpful!  Where is the article that says:  Stop mentally abusing yourself over why he left, they were his reasons?  Where is the article that says:  So what if you stayed together for the kids, the kids made you happy and when they were gone it is time to find something else to make you happy?  Where is the article that says:  He left because he is a fuckwad?

If you see any of those articles, the critical acclaim is “oh look how bitter they are”.  Reality check, when a major life change happens to you - You Are Entitled to be Bitter if You Want!  What you do with that bitterness is another story. 

Another really annoying “search result” is the advice on how to make your marriage better so you don’t head for divorce.  Before the separation, those articles encouraged me.  Then those articles depressed me.  Then I went through a stage of blame and what-if’s?  Now, they sort of make me snort/laugh. 

So you date, you have something in your life that makes you declare love; you get married; you build; you have kids; kids leave and then what?  What if you tried, even half-heartedly, at every marriage builder?  I saw a meme that said “Love is both a noun and a verb”.  Again, I thought “what the hell do I do with that?” 

The reality is that most couples spend their marriage hiding from each other.  They hide for many reasons: Past baggage, shame, hurt, narcissism, self-preservation, pop culture, kids, parents, siblings, work, finances…the list goes on and on.  So the articles that I snort/laugh at are sort of on the right track but if you are not open to them in your own mind they make zero difference and the longevity of your marriage diminishes the value of your marriage – if you’re still married or now divorced. 

Does the longevity of your marriage diminish the value of your marriage?  My answer, it all depends on whether you let it.  Some days I choose to let it and other times I remember that only I have control over how diminishing the value of my marriage is/was. 

My point?  Well 1) I like to hear myself talk and talk about what is bothering me; 2) I’m tired of feeling humiliated, sorry for myself and shame over the last 27 years of my life.  If nothing else (and there were good “else’s”) I had five children who were born out of love – both the noun and verb – who have grown into individual; smart; intelligent; productive; loving; beautiful (inside and out) children.  

Desktop background

I spend an awful amount of time at my computer, whether I am on Facebook, reading articles, writing, listening to music or actually working.  For a long time now, when I sit at my computer, anxiety wells up. 

Today, I had to restart my computer because windows had 43 updates to do.  Right before it shut off, the computer background came into focus.  It was a picture of my entire family, ex-husband included, from 2011.  My stomach flipped, flopped and then I felt ready to vomit.  2011:  my 20^th wedding anniversary; the year my undiagnosed twins graduated high school; the year… (Insert memory). 

I changed the background picture, even though it was one of my favorites of all the kids but as I type, my hands are still shaking.  Why? 

A quiz I took on Tiny Buddha says it is because I am “stuck in the past”.  That I am “fixating on mistakes of the past which are lowering my self-esteem”.  I like that answer.  Not sure how accurate it is but it is a start.  I had a friend tell me that an issue he saw, was that I was taking the time and trying to recreate or insert the past into that day.  I countered that the past was a shared history, and not that bad of one, that it was a cornerstone we had and I wasn’t trying to recreate the past but build on it.  Today, I realized that IS exactly what I was doing.  Good, bad or indifferent I have spent the better part of my life telling myself I was building on an issue; a memory; a problem; a feel good moment when what I have really been doing is trying to recreate it.  I had a flashing thought of “how sad because I either missed out or ruined some wonderful moments or opportunities”.  My initial reaction after that was “how do I fix it”.  As I type, think and feel, I know that is the wrong reaction.  I can’t fix it.  I can only stop IT.  What happens after I stop “it” will be to let myself capitalize on “it”.  Whatever the “it” is, whoever the “it” is, wherever the “it” is, my goal is to capitalize on that and stop fixating on the past.  Wish me luck! 

Every Storm Runs out of Rain

When I was about three, my parents split up.  We initially lived with my mother.  Everyone told me:  don’t cry; be a big girl; Mom is just sleeping so be quiet; help with your brother; don’t be loud; settle down; stop wanting attention.  For me the list goes on and on of the things I remember being said and the feelings surrounding them. 

My dad got remarried and it was decided we would go live with him and his wife because it was better to be in a two person household.  That is what we were told.  I remember packing up and crying and being told not to cry because my Mom couldn’t handle it and my new step-mom wouldn’t like it, she would think I didn’t like her.  I remember begging for her attention.  She played with my brother, held him, feed him.  I just wanted that.  I wanted to not be invisible. 

What I didn’t know then but know now is that my Dad was not my biological father.  He met my mom when she was four months pregnant and he married her anyway.  For a long time, I tried to see this as a positive – hey I was not invisible.  I was loved.  Then somewhere, somehow or something made me believe that I was loved before I was born but not so much after.  I realized that another man out there was my father and he knew it and never tried to make contact, check on me or anything.  Again, I was invisible. 

My dad died the summer before my sophomore year of high school and I once again became invisible except when I cried; was too loud; complained; wanted attention. 

I will say with all honesty that there were many people in my life who did NOT treat me this way, they did all they could.  The pattern was laid, the voices were in my head, the feelings were there and so no matter how good I felt from them, it never lasted long. 

When I met my ex-husband it appeared he pulled me out of a crowd.  I wasn’t invisible.  We spent every day and night together from April 9, 1989 until August of 1989.  His family didn’t seem to care for me and if some snide comment wasn’t being made, I was being ignored.  He moved and without being asked, I moved too.  At the time, he was the only person who made me feel worthwhile and not invisible.  However, the pattern started again.  He would go out with friends; he would stay late at work when I had made dinner or plans to talk to his family (no cell phones); he would tell me to stay while he went; when I went, his brothers and sisters were not nice to me; we did what they wanted; they got to say what they wanted and I wasn’t invisible but my feelings and emotions were.  When I let them out, I was wrong.  I was over-emotional; I did not understand; I made it all about me; I was reminded that I would get over it easy but they would hold it over my head or his head for years to come. 

I won’t go into every aspect of my marriage but as I sit here today, I keep trying to look for defining moments in my life and marriage that lead me to where I am today.  Problem is that when I do that it seems like blame and not acknowledgment.  I remember once going to a therapist and she wanted me to lay out my family tree.  It took 3 poster boards and her response was “wow that is fucked up”.  Literally.  I never went back. 

One thing I have picked up on is my low self-worth and poor treatment is my own doing.  Mine.  Others didn’t do it to me but I allowed it.  Even at age three.  I’m the blame.  I didn’t seek out; I didn’t do and I didn’t do better.  I put on the brave face, I fought, I screamed, I yelled, I cried, I taught everyone around me to stick up for themselves, I championed for everyone but me because at every turn when I tried to champion for myself I would hear a word that would spiral me into trouble.  So it was easier to champion for everyone else, for every cause, for every event, than it was to champion for me.  It still is. 

About a year ago I wrote a list of how I felt - one word descriptors of my feelings about myself.  My now ex-husband took it personally, whether by design, excuse or because he really felt it was his fault.  I tried explaining – even up until three weeks ago – that that was MY list of how I felt.  Again, I walked away feeling invisible; worthless and wrong. 

I saw and to a certain extent still see my self-worth by other people’s standards.  What does my step-mom think of me; what did my husband think of me; what does my now ex-husband think of me; what did my kids think of me; what do they all think of me now?  I somehow believe that my self-worth is tied to what others think or want from me. 

Research, therapy and friends tell me that I am the only one who can give that kind of power to someone else.  That I, consciously or not, choose to believe…

I want to scream “how can that be right and it is not fair!”, but it is true.  Several people who really care about me keep telling me to try and stop caring what others think, to be myself and be true to myself.  How?  How do you do that?  How do you do that in a positive constructive way?  How do you undo 47 years worth of not knowing your own value? 

My Dad is deceased.  My birth mother is deceased.  My step-mom doesn’t talk to me.  My husband divorced me.  My in-law family of 24.8 years has nothing to do with me.  My kids are holding on by a thread to talk to me.  The people who have stuck it out are struggling and don’t know what to do with me and my straight talking therapist best advice this week is I have to work to get my shit together.  It wasn’t said mean but as a reality check. 

So how do I practice self-control?  Self-love?  Kindness to myself? How do I grasp the sandpaper to smooth out the scars on my soul I created or allowed to be created?  My first step:  There is nothing wrong with ME…I will do the best that I can…I will do something every day to love myself and all the people in my life. 

Wish me luck, I have stepped back from the ledge and WILL will myself to be who God meant me to be.  

Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady...

I have done a lot of reading since July 2, 2015 when I found out my husband had filed for divorce on June 29, 2015.  I figured all the self help books would fix me.  ***disclaimer, there was more to fix than just me and there was a lot of me to fix***

So I moved to the almighty “Google”, once I got up off the couch - from a two week depressive episode of “I can’t see; eat; move; think” - bender.  My initial results returned about 613,00 result in .53 seconds.  I actually wrote that down.  I think I made it through about 2/3rds of all the articles before I gave up.  They all said the same thing.  My therapist at the time said the same thing.  Only he went so far as to tell me I was the cause of the marital demise and until I could recognize that and the fact that I was angry, I would be stuck.  Yes, I dropped him and found someone more qualified.  

So I read the five stages of grief:  Denial; Anger & Resentment; Bargaining; Depression; and Acceptance. 

I swirled through all of these, daily.  Not weekly, not monthly but daily. 

Denial!  Well that one happened in stages.  Right up until the day of the divorce hearing, I denied it would happen.  Then after the divorce I denied it.  Not that the divorce happened but the “it” that caused it.  Or better yet the ITS.  There was way more than one.  I’m still deciding, with my therapist, if it is worth going over them one by one or by category or if at all. 

Anger & Resentment!  This one is still happening today.  What can I say?  I’ve tried “Let Go and Let God”.  I’ve tried alcohol.  I’ve tried immersing myself in work.  Now, I am just trying. 

Bargaining!  I bargained a lot in the beginning. Then I gave up.  Bargaining never got me anywhere except anger and resentment from both of us.  We never followed Dr. Phil’s advice to renegotiate; we just bargained and then built up anger and resentment. 

Depression!  Since this played a major part in my ex-husband leaving, it sort of sent me down the rabbit hole.  After the final move out and divorce I did many things that physically made me feel better which helped with the depression but mentally I couldn’t wrap my head around anything so the depression was taken care of with self-medicating, ranting, raving and finally more depression.  In my discussion with my physician and therapist this week, I have given in to the fact that alcohol and hate is my enemy and Zoloft and therapy are my friends right now. 

Acceptance!  HA HA HA HA HA HA… ok maybe that is not funny but I don’t have anything else to say but that. 

So, none of these articles talked about the following:

Humiliation!  Oh yeah - I was deeply humiliated.  How do you tell people who have known you were married for 24 plus years?  How do you tell people who you both told to “work it – it is worth it”?  How do you tell people when the two of you sat together talking about how could other people you know who had been married 20 plus years get divorced?  What was even harder were people who I knew who were divorced and open about it had only been married under ten years and still had younger kids.  They didn’t know how to deal with the end of a relationship that spanned more than half your life or the “empty-nest” syndrome that accompanied the divorce. 

Failure!  Oh yeah, I big time felt like I failed.  I really had two jobs, as I saw it.  Be a wife and mother.  So if I failed at being a wife did that mean I failed as a mother?   Daily, I heard and sometimes still hear haunting whispers of “You are a loser. You are unlovable. You are a failure. You deserve to be alone. Life is over. You will never be loved again.” Enter depression, anger, resentment.  Those guys like to still make appearances. 

Guilt!  This raised all sorts of personal stories I’m not ready to share. 

Shame!  Ties back to Humiliation; Failure and Guilt. 

Fear!  Oh shit I was scared to death.  I got the house.  How the hell was I going to take care of it?  I needed a new car.  How was I going to swing that?  I had been out of the work force for 15 years and had no money.  Who was going to hire me and how was I going to pay for things?  How was I going to…?  The questions were endless and overwhelming.  Re-enter Humiliation; Failure and Guilt. 

Anxiety!  Enough said, really, enough said. 

Loss!  I lost a good bit by this process but I am also finding things.  My loss has been profound though.  It is apparently normal but it hit me hard.  I couldn’t, and some days still can’t see, that I didn’t really lose myself or my identity.  I had just hidden it away and because of the situations I was afraid to let her out.  The times I did let her out, I felt…wait for it Humiliation; Failure and Guilt.  It is funny, not ironic but ha ha funny, I never minding being “so and so’s Mom” and not Pam but never realized how much MRS. Kasperitis was embedded in my mind as my identity.  I remember this conversation at the divorce hearing:  “Bitch of a Divorce Lawyer for Ex:  Ms. Kasperitis….  ME:  Excuse me Your Honor but the divorce papers are not signed and until you sign the order, I am MRS. Kasperitis, I earned that title!”  I remember walking out of the Court Room feeling like the Judge had stitched a great big red “D” on my shirt and everyone I walked past knew what had happened.  I look back now and see that it seems awfully silly but it was so emotionally and mentally tied to WHO I was and that was about to end and I was going to hang on to it as long as possible.  Since that time, I’ve had people say Mrs. and I quietly respond “Ms.”!  My marriage, my divorce, hell my life is something that has happened it is not who I am, I have to learn to decide that. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had very happy moments before AND since this process began.  I have some wonderfully supportive people in my life.  I have met some new people and rekindled old friendships.  Unfortunately, I spent time taking them for granted and pushing my baggage on them instead of remembering, they love/ed Me for Me and were there to support me but not carry the suitcase.  I am hoping that those I made carry the suitcase can forgive and hope they work their way back into my life because they were/are really good people who were/are really good for me. 

So where am I now?  Still standing in the middle of an abyss – backed away from the ledge - but trying to remind myself that I am the only one who can help me.  That no one can make me see my worth until I am willing to see my worth.  I am the only one who can make me happy.  I am the only one who cannot be self-destructive.  I am the only one who can ruin new and old relationships!  I AM!