Thanksgiving and Gratitude

Beloved readers,

I have 96 page views from Ukraine. Huh. I can't help but think that's a cybercrime phenomenon. Good luck, if so, since this is a not for profit hobby and I don't use this email address for anything else. Or maybe it's because there's "boob" in the title? Should I add "erection free money kitten" and see how much more traffic I can drum up? Nah.

Right, back to something timely. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I am so very grateful. I like to try to practice gratitude every day of my life, and it has saved my sanity on numerous occasions. But one day a year, I'm actually in with the crowd on this habit, which is an unusual feeling for me, so that's fun.

I have so much to be grateful for.

I was overwhelmed with all the hate and fear and chaos in the news a couple days ago and asked on my facebook feed "please make me laugh," and lots of people did. Thank you!

My children are healthy and safe and loved. This should be a "well duh, of course." It's not. For so, so, so many children, around the world and a short walk from my front door, these things are not "of course." I am so grateful, and at the same time, I am not satisfied. I will not be satisfied until every kid in the world can say they are safe and loved and as healthy as they can be. (So, yes, I will likely die unsatisfied, but still grateful.)

I have kind, sweet friends and family who check to make sure I have somewhere to be for the first Thanksgiving I will spend away from my children since I have had children. Thank you!

As mentioned previously, I am safe and warm and well fed (perhaps a bit overfed of late) and healthy and educated and employed and housed and so many things that many can not take for granted. I am grateful.

I could keep going. It would get dull for even the most patient reader. I should say, however, that gratitude is a beginning. Because I am grateful, and because I understand that scarcity has been imposed on so many, I must let my gratitude move me forward to help create justice.

Lastly, allow me to ask please that you hold in your hearts so many this day who are not safe, who are not home, who are not sure where they will be safe and at home again. Those fleeing the terrorism of pseudo-Muslims, our neighbors crying out for justice, the list is long. They are our sisters and brothers, we need them, and we owe it to them to help however we can.

I am grateful for you, dear readers. Thank you!

Much love,
Suzi

Being Public with my Mental Health (Some More)

Beloved Readers!

I miss you! I've been journaling, which is healthy for me, and not filtered (believe it or not I do actually filter my thoughts for this blog). So that is where a lot of my writing energy has been going. Also, due to various holiday alternations and some travel for my coparent, I am in the midst of a stretch of 11 weekends of which I have the kiddos with me for 9. Which is super duper awesome and I'm maybe just a weeeeee bit tired. By some miracle of sheer stubbornness I got my floor cleaned yesterday and yet still fed the children.

A few things going on. I'm making lovely progress in therapy, and according to my counselor am "rocking it." Which, you will likely NOT be surprised to hear, does not in fact FEEL like rocking it. But it's wonderful to feel some of the shackles falling off my heart. No that is not a dig at my exhusband or anyone else. They're bad mental habit shackles. One of which is to blame other people for my crap.

Been reading some Pema Chodron. What a lovely gift she is to us. And books on ADHD. Because guess what? I have that too. Oy. Now, I gotta say, anyone who knows me well is just kinda like, "What, you didn't know that?" But of course they're too sweet to say so. When my beloved psychiatrist was asking me the questions on the two instruments she used for the diagnosis, I kept laughing. It was forehead-slappingly obvious. But I didn't want the diagnosis. I was mad at it. I was offended by it. And I was annoyed with myself for having that reaction. I knew perfectly well if I have this condition in my brain then it's there whether we label it or not. Not labeling it doesn't make it go away. Labeling it doesn't make it more true. And most importantly, here I am running around telling Robert to be the best Robert he can, trying to model body confidence for Jackie, and I'm gonna judge my own brain? Not consistent. So I spent a couple weeks pouting about it (which conveniently is how long there is between appointments with the aforementioned M.D.) and then was like, "okay, let's do this thing." Not like "woo look at me and my awesome brain!" (It is awesome. I don't own that frequently enough. I get buckets of external affirmation about how powerful my brain is and then I get mad at it for being all "SQUIRREL!" which for all we know is a necessary trait for all the cool things it can do.) So I'm just trying to be a good sport and all.

And then I see this. You may have too, it hit the book of faces. I'm totally captivated. She's incredible. She's so poised and positive. I mean I don't know what the young women who made the flick edited out, maybe she spends a lot of time being a grumpy pants. But to go through all that and be such a ray of sunshine, even for two minutes? What a warrior.

I want to adopt her. This is not a practical idea. One, I have two little kids and while I'm exceedingly blessed, for which I'm extremely grateful, I'm not made of money and I'm sort of barely getting enough sleep as it is. Two, she's got systems and friends and support and yanking her out of that is a bad idea. Three, she's Canadian, they probably frown on Americans stealing their citizens. Four, I'm not some parenting genius, I'm just a mama with a big heart and some crazy ideas. I could go on. Point being, probably I didn't see this film because the universe wants me to be Becca's mom. More likely, she is my role model. She is my candle in a dark moment. She's clearly a brilliant flame to very many. Look what she has transcended and how whole she is, not despite her challenges but because of them.

So next what happens is my Woman Warrior Writer friend posts something that BROKE my heart. One of her students (community college) is talking to her about the accommodations she requires for her (the student's) ADHD. And Laura says,

Somewhere in the conversation, I got the sense that she was feeling like ADHD made her less intellectually capable and it was affecting her self esteem. So, I got out her most recent bit of writing for me and pointed out how smart some of her observations were. She told me that no teacher had ever done that for her. Twelve years in the public school system, and not one compliment (and she's actually quite observant and insightful).

This is totally unacceptable to me. And I'm sure it happens every day. So being who I am, I am called to be public, like all up in your face public, with "here are my labels and here's what a badass I am and if anyone tells you that you are lesser because of these labels you may tell them I said to bite me, namaste, if you like."

So I'm outing myself, again. I have OCD. I have ADHD. I have struggled with depression, anxiety, post-partum mood disorder, some other crap I can't remember no doubt, and guess what. I have an amazing brain. And so do you.

No more freaking stigma. All it does is harm.

So much love for you all.

Suzi

Stuck

Good gravy it's been eight months since my last post. Whoops. Well, I've had A Year. But more on that later. Today I wrote another poem. Here it is.
Love,
Suzi


STUCK

My grief is stuck
   I can feel it, like heartburn
      caught behind a ball of anger
         refusing
            to let my broken heart heal

What will release this fury, to free my grief, so my heart can keen herself clear?

I need the balm of forgiveness
   the courage to give again as I did before

Fear stops me.

Fear says, "If you forgive, you will forget, and it will all happen again."
   Fear says Anger keeps me safe.
      Fear helps Anger to push the grief back down
         into my heart
            to grow cold
               and rigid
                  and start to die.


Love offers courage
   my love of my children
      offers me a reason to keep trying
         their love for me
            removes any excuse
               to let fear win.

Love offers a reason to let the anger out, past the fear, to burn up in the pure sunlight
   as inconsequential
      as a puff of smoke

Love opens her arms, takes me onto her warm, safe lap
   holds my head to her chest, strokes my hair, while I cry

Love warms me
   Love promises that forgiveness is not foolishness
      That my scars earned me wisdom
         That my scars are strong and alive

Love soothes me
   she reaches into my cold chest
      so I can breathe
         so I can cry
            so I can heal

I look into love's face
   and see myself
      smiling back
         strong
            beautiful
               whole
                  brave
                     alive
                        forgiven
                           forgiving
                              strong
                           
                                    free.