It is just shy of 1 am on Wednesday, July 4th. By early evening, I will be on a flight to France, where I will be spending a month and a half, studying and performing in a summer program. Honestly? I am terrified.
I've been thinking about why I am so unexcited about going and I believe it stems back to the last opera that I performed, in April. For some reason, my voice gave out on me in my first aria. Now, it is a role that is incredibly difficult, one of the hardest for my voice type, and yet, I was not expecting this. Only by the grace of God was I able to make it through the rest of the opera, but this scared me. And I am nervous about performing again.
For me, music and God are incredibly closely intertwined. Take one away, and I am left scrambling to make sense of life. I have to admit, my walk with God has not been as on fire as it should be lately and I truly think that my previous opera disaster is a large part of that simple fact.
I practice in an old Lutheran church. Today, when I went to practice, it was later in the day and with the lights off in the chapel, it was dark but inviting. The light coming in through the stained glass windows was enough to make one feel hugged by the warm glow, in the midst of the dark pews. I laid down on the floor and looked up at the ceiling. Have you ever looked to the ceiling of an older church? It reminds me of a rib cage. As a singer, I know and understand the intricate workings of the breath, how the diaphragm is involved, how the intercostal muscles work and how it all fits together to give you the optimum breath support. In singing, breath equals life. Breath gives life to the voice and if you do not understand how to fully utilize your breathing, it will fall short. Your pitch will flatten or you will lose the brilliance. The musicality will not be there. Something will not work and though the audience may not be able to pint point what it is, they will know that something is not quite right. As I gazed into the ceiling, laying in the hazy glow of the stained glass and sang my favorite hymn, I couldn't help but tie breathing in singing with the ribs of the ceiling. Somehow the importance of God in my life all made so much sense again. The ribs of the ceiling reminded me that I cannot truly breathe without HIM, I cannot be truly happy with HIM in my life, without fully seeking HIM. Because for me, God is always in my life. Where I run into trouble is when I become a bit apathetic and stop pursuing Him. I need to pursue again. This is my problem. Pursing God in my life is like knowing how to use your breath properly when you sing. If I do not pursue Him, something is not right in my life. Something is off and though I may not be able to pinpoint what it is, I know that something is off. And as I sang my favorite line "I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free" I realized that I truly have not been happy since that opera back in April. I am too hard on myself. Here I am with this amazing opportunity to study in France and I am terrified and grumpy about it. No more. I am praying fervently for an attitude change.
I hope and pray that I go forward with a smile in my heart and a lifted spirit, knowing that I was chosen into this program for a reason. I will go forward, thinking of the ribs... I will breathe deep, taking in new positivity and life with each and every breath.
Blessings on you all this summer, I hope it is joyous and full of adventure
xoxo,
Deena
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Monday, February 21, 2011
how far is too far?
I recently had someone in my life disown me due mainly to distance and a situation that I was not given the chance to clarify. This has left me feeling incredibly disheartened and upset. The person that I called to talk this through with reminded me that this really has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the other person and how they perceive friendship and I have to agree. But wow did it hurt. How can someone put a distance rule on friendship?
Then I looked at my own life. About 6 months ago, I stopped contacting someone whom I thought was a good friend. If they were to contact me again, I would willingly let them back into my life with open arms. I wouldn't shut them out forever. At the time, I was going through one of the darkest valleys of my life. I needed the distance and I think this person did too. But I know that one day we will be ok again. I would never cut this person out of my life forever. I find that incredibly unfair and difficult.
As someone who is striving to live the life of an opera singer, I need to say that I am incredibly grateful for every one of you. Opera is a lonely life when you finally make a career from it and I know that I have some amazing friends, whom I mainly stay in touch with via facebook, that will be with me for life. Thank you for that. Some of you I have only met once or in a foreign country. The fact that you do not let distance or the fact that we've only met once squash our friendship means a lot to me. One of you in particular, I worked with in a musical. We were never very close, and yet you continue to encourage me on a regular basis via facebook, maintaining an interest in my life 5 years after we've met. That means a lot.
I appreciate all of you. I love all of you. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for supporting me through prayers, thoughts and notes. Thank you for thinking that I am worthy of your friendship. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.
Blessings and love,
Deena
Then I looked at my own life. About 6 months ago, I stopped contacting someone whom I thought was a good friend. If they were to contact me again, I would willingly let them back into my life with open arms. I wouldn't shut them out forever. At the time, I was going through one of the darkest valleys of my life. I needed the distance and I think this person did too. But I know that one day we will be ok again. I would never cut this person out of my life forever. I find that incredibly unfair and difficult.
As someone who is striving to live the life of an opera singer, I need to say that I am incredibly grateful for every one of you. Opera is a lonely life when you finally make a career from it and I know that I have some amazing friends, whom I mainly stay in touch with via facebook, that will be with me for life. Thank you for that. Some of you I have only met once or in a foreign country. The fact that you do not let distance or the fact that we've only met once squash our friendship means a lot to me. One of you in particular, I worked with in a musical. We were never very close, and yet you continue to encourage me on a regular basis via facebook, maintaining an interest in my life 5 years after we've met. That means a lot.
I appreciate all of you. I love all of you. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for supporting me through prayers, thoughts and notes. Thank you for thinking that I am worthy of your friendship. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.
Blessings and love,
Deena
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
candid (maybe it's time to open up and be honest...)
I recently read Portia di Rossi's book Unbearable Lightness, about her struggle with an intense eating disorder. This has given me to courage to finally open up about mine. Something that I have hidden for years.
Last week I didn't look forward to ballet class. I was indifferent. I always try to get there early so that I have enough time to change and throw my hair up without feeling rushed. I hate feeling rushed. I arrived right when half of the class before me had been let go of. About 5 small framed 20ish year old girls rushed into the small, cramped space that is the Opera Atelier girls 'change room', unapologetically. I was soon forced out into the hallway, where I attempted as best as I could, to put on my tights and body suit under the skirt that I had worn to work. As I stood there, in the doorway to the change room, struggling in this attempt, I couldn't help but notice one of the perfect ballerinas from the advanced class openly staring at me. Obviously in disgust. I know I don't look like a ballet dancer. I'm an opera singer and with my voice type, I will always have a bit of meat on me. As I glanced in her direction, she openly challenged me. She kept staring. She never looked away. But her face said it all. "What do you think you are doing here?" Putting on tights and spandex is never something that I enjoy. But after taking ballet there for over a year, I was beginning to feel comfortable with my peers. But this one girl... and her look... they destroyed me. And I felt like a fat loser.
It's funny. Lately I have had a lot of people telling me that I look great. I ran into a friend last night that I hadn't seen in about eight months, someone who would never lie to me. One of the first things out of her mouth was how great I looked. I unbelievingly thanked her. How can I look great? Have you seen this giant keg of fat that sits in front of me at all times? I am a disgusting monster. How in the world can you say that I look great?
I have struggled with the thought that I am fat for my entire life. It started with the bullying at school. One girl decided to make my life a living hell, and she singlehandedly lead me down a path to destructive behavior, depression and suicidal thoughts. I came out of high school thinking that I was fat, worthless and that I would never be loved. And I know that you cannot live in the past forever... but it is difficult to change the emotional habits of a lifetime. When you grow up hearing these comments, it is all but impossible to forget them.
In college, it was no better. I was soon diagnosed with a muscle disorder called firbomyalgia. With the fibro, I learned that I was dangerously allergic to wheat and a few other things. I was diagnosed with insomnia, depression, chronic fatigue, IBS. There were certain foods that I was intolerable to, which simply means that if I eat them, my stomach goes into a rage and I end up in the bathroom in incredible amounts of pain for who knows how long. It is not pleasant. But I knew that I was fat. I knew that I would only find worth if I was thin. This is what the media tells us. This is what my peers showed me. So I would eat the foods that would cause my IBS to act up. I would binge, but not wanting to purge because I am a singer and throwing up is damaging to the vocal folds, I would consume the 'in between' foods that I couldn't really tolerate and end up in the bathroom in extreme amounts of pain. Simply trying to induce my own personal laxatives to get the disgusting mess that I had just consumed out of my body.
I suddenly, through no choice of my own, was restricted on what I was allowed to eat. I couldn't eat wheat. I had lived on pasta, bread and pizza. What do I eat now? I starved. I 'forgot' to eat. Or I would wind up in a narrow tunnel where I would eat the same thing for a week, get sick of it and forget that there were other foods out there. I would starve myself. Forget. And the binge. And induce the IBS.
When I moved to Toronto, I found health food stores with sweet treats that I could eat that were gluten free. Because I felt like I had deprived myself for so long, I would buy them almost daily, telling myself that it was ok to have one chocolate a day. Then cursing myself when I would eat the entire container of cookies... but then tell myself that it was ok... I deserved it for some reason... because it was gluten free, and poor me, I'm not allowed to eat gluten. What a hard life I lived.
It was also easy to starve when I first moved to Toronto because I felt very unwelcome by my new roommate. She scared me. I was nervous to be around her. Nervous that I had done something wrong and she would suddenly fly off the handle in a fit of rage at me, which happened often, even though I tried the best that I could to be as courteous as possible. It seemed that I had always done something wrong. As she always sat at the kitchen table, doing homework or flirting with men via online dating sites, I was afraid to go into the kitchen. For just about 2 and a half years I walked on egg shells. And I starved. And I binged. Living in that stressful environment, eating the way that I was, I obviously gained more weight. I was now over 200 pounds. And I was disgusted. I didn't love myself. I never had really.
I felt the pressure of my goal choice as an opera singer. I knew deep down that a famous soprano had been fired for not being able to fit into a dress. I knew that the pressures to look more like movie stars was starting to happen, due to the live in HD operas now being showen in the movie theaters. I felt the pressure. And I buckled under its weight.
Not only this, but I felt pressure from my family. I love my Mom more than anything. But I have always felt pressure from her to be thinner than I am. I remember coming home from Toronto to visit, and she put her arms around me and quite literally, as we hugged, felt my stomach. I recoiled in horror. Really? REALLY!? I remember crying, at the age of 24 or 25 in Melanie Lynn, as we shopped. I had commented on how, due to ballet, my legs were getting more toned. And she patted my protruding belly and said 'now you just have to get rid of this'. And I cried. And I didn't talk to her for the rest of the day. I know she doesn't mean any harm by it. She is small by nature. Even my Dad, the last time I talked to him, said 'how's the weight loss going?'. I wanted to throw down the phone and scream. I love my Dad. But we have not had the easiest past. And as he is grossly overweight and not doing a thing about it, I wanted to scream at him and tell him where to go and how to get there. I suppressed that and made some witty comment. But I felt like a failure. Because it is not going well. I am binging. I am starving. And it is not well.
A big part of my problem lately has been my muscle disorder. I am in constant pain. And let me tell you, when you are in constant pain and constantly exhausted, the hardest thing in the world is to work out. I have recently moved, and since moving, I have been eating better. But now that I am eating better, I still have no energy and am in constant pain, so working out hasn't been happening as much. I feel like I am gaining weight again. And though I am now under the 200 pound mark, I hover around it like a terrible beacon. And I hate it.
I look in the mirror and I hate myself. I hate myself for the way that I look. For the layer of fat that comes up over my jeans. For the way that people look at me. I saw a very fit regular at work the other day checking out my flabby arms with disgust. Again, that is engrained in my mind. Never to leave.
Part of my mental struggle is that I have now found pills that will help me ingest wheat. But in my family, we refer to this as 'cheating'. This word choice has mentally defeated and deflated me. Anytime I want to eat something using these pills, I feel like I am failing. Like I am doing something terrible. Like I am a giant, fat, failure for choosing to eat something that my body obviously is going to reject. I grew up hearing and learning that failure wasn't an option. I feel like a failure every day that I get up and look in the mirror and know that I have disappointed my family by being fat. This is difficult to live with.
I also feel like a failure because I know that a lot of people look up to me. They think that I am this perfect little Christian girl who can do no wrong. I struggle on a daily basis to believe that God could love this ugly blob. And I hardly ever get to the point where I truly believe it. How can I allow someone else to love me when I don't even love myself?
So I struggle. I have been better since moving. It has been good for me. But I still struggle. Mentally. I struggle. I long for love, but who would love this? I long to feel like I fit in, but I never do.
Reading Portia's book has been helpful to me, but there is a danger for someone with an eating disorder to read a book about eating disorders. I found myself thinking 'that's a good idea!' when she was talking about her destructive behavior.
And so I open up to you. And I ask for help. For prayers. For guidance. I open up so that I cannot hide in this any longer. I open up so that maybe I won't feel like a failure, but will be able to feel accepted. I open up so that maybe my struggle can help you to open up.
Blessings,
Deena
Last week I didn't look forward to ballet class. I was indifferent. I always try to get there early so that I have enough time to change and throw my hair up without feeling rushed. I hate feeling rushed. I arrived right when half of the class before me had been let go of. About 5 small framed 20ish year old girls rushed into the small, cramped space that is the Opera Atelier girls 'change room', unapologetically. I was soon forced out into the hallway, where I attempted as best as I could, to put on my tights and body suit under the skirt that I had worn to work. As I stood there, in the doorway to the change room, struggling in this attempt, I couldn't help but notice one of the perfect ballerinas from the advanced class openly staring at me. Obviously in disgust. I know I don't look like a ballet dancer. I'm an opera singer and with my voice type, I will always have a bit of meat on me. As I glanced in her direction, she openly challenged me. She kept staring. She never looked away. But her face said it all. "What do you think you are doing here?" Putting on tights and spandex is never something that I enjoy. But after taking ballet there for over a year, I was beginning to feel comfortable with my peers. But this one girl... and her look... they destroyed me. And I felt like a fat loser.
It's funny. Lately I have had a lot of people telling me that I look great. I ran into a friend last night that I hadn't seen in about eight months, someone who would never lie to me. One of the first things out of her mouth was how great I looked. I unbelievingly thanked her. How can I look great? Have you seen this giant keg of fat that sits in front of me at all times? I am a disgusting monster. How in the world can you say that I look great?
I have struggled with the thought that I am fat for my entire life. It started with the bullying at school. One girl decided to make my life a living hell, and she singlehandedly lead me down a path to destructive behavior, depression and suicidal thoughts. I came out of high school thinking that I was fat, worthless and that I would never be loved. And I know that you cannot live in the past forever... but it is difficult to change the emotional habits of a lifetime. When you grow up hearing these comments, it is all but impossible to forget them.
In college, it was no better. I was soon diagnosed with a muscle disorder called firbomyalgia. With the fibro, I learned that I was dangerously allergic to wheat and a few other things. I was diagnosed with insomnia, depression, chronic fatigue, IBS. There were certain foods that I was intolerable to, which simply means that if I eat them, my stomach goes into a rage and I end up in the bathroom in incredible amounts of pain for who knows how long. It is not pleasant. But I knew that I was fat. I knew that I would only find worth if I was thin. This is what the media tells us. This is what my peers showed me. So I would eat the foods that would cause my IBS to act up. I would binge, but not wanting to purge because I am a singer and throwing up is damaging to the vocal folds, I would consume the 'in between' foods that I couldn't really tolerate and end up in the bathroom in extreme amounts of pain. Simply trying to induce my own personal laxatives to get the disgusting mess that I had just consumed out of my body.
I suddenly, through no choice of my own, was restricted on what I was allowed to eat. I couldn't eat wheat. I had lived on pasta, bread and pizza. What do I eat now? I starved. I 'forgot' to eat. Or I would wind up in a narrow tunnel where I would eat the same thing for a week, get sick of it and forget that there were other foods out there. I would starve myself. Forget. And the binge. And induce the IBS.
When I moved to Toronto, I found health food stores with sweet treats that I could eat that were gluten free. Because I felt like I had deprived myself for so long, I would buy them almost daily, telling myself that it was ok to have one chocolate a day. Then cursing myself when I would eat the entire container of cookies... but then tell myself that it was ok... I deserved it for some reason... because it was gluten free, and poor me, I'm not allowed to eat gluten. What a hard life I lived.
It was also easy to starve when I first moved to Toronto because I felt very unwelcome by my new roommate. She scared me. I was nervous to be around her. Nervous that I had done something wrong and she would suddenly fly off the handle in a fit of rage at me, which happened often, even though I tried the best that I could to be as courteous as possible. It seemed that I had always done something wrong. As she always sat at the kitchen table, doing homework or flirting with men via online dating sites, I was afraid to go into the kitchen. For just about 2 and a half years I walked on egg shells. And I starved. And I binged. Living in that stressful environment, eating the way that I was, I obviously gained more weight. I was now over 200 pounds. And I was disgusted. I didn't love myself. I never had really.
I felt the pressure of my goal choice as an opera singer. I knew deep down that a famous soprano had been fired for not being able to fit into a dress. I knew that the pressures to look more like movie stars was starting to happen, due to the live in HD operas now being showen in the movie theaters. I felt the pressure. And I buckled under its weight.
Not only this, but I felt pressure from my family. I love my Mom more than anything. But I have always felt pressure from her to be thinner than I am. I remember coming home from Toronto to visit, and she put her arms around me and quite literally, as we hugged, felt my stomach. I recoiled in horror. Really? REALLY!? I remember crying, at the age of 24 or 25 in Melanie Lynn, as we shopped. I had commented on how, due to ballet, my legs were getting more toned. And she patted my protruding belly and said 'now you just have to get rid of this'. And I cried. And I didn't talk to her for the rest of the day. I know she doesn't mean any harm by it. She is small by nature. Even my Dad, the last time I talked to him, said 'how's the weight loss going?'. I wanted to throw down the phone and scream. I love my Dad. But we have not had the easiest past. And as he is grossly overweight and not doing a thing about it, I wanted to scream at him and tell him where to go and how to get there. I suppressed that and made some witty comment. But I felt like a failure. Because it is not going well. I am binging. I am starving. And it is not well.
A big part of my problem lately has been my muscle disorder. I am in constant pain. And let me tell you, when you are in constant pain and constantly exhausted, the hardest thing in the world is to work out. I have recently moved, and since moving, I have been eating better. But now that I am eating better, I still have no energy and am in constant pain, so working out hasn't been happening as much. I feel like I am gaining weight again. And though I am now under the 200 pound mark, I hover around it like a terrible beacon. And I hate it.
I look in the mirror and I hate myself. I hate myself for the way that I look. For the layer of fat that comes up over my jeans. For the way that people look at me. I saw a very fit regular at work the other day checking out my flabby arms with disgust. Again, that is engrained in my mind. Never to leave.
Part of my mental struggle is that I have now found pills that will help me ingest wheat. But in my family, we refer to this as 'cheating'. This word choice has mentally defeated and deflated me. Anytime I want to eat something using these pills, I feel like I am failing. Like I am doing something terrible. Like I am a giant, fat, failure for choosing to eat something that my body obviously is going to reject. I grew up hearing and learning that failure wasn't an option. I feel like a failure every day that I get up and look in the mirror and know that I have disappointed my family by being fat. This is difficult to live with.
I also feel like a failure because I know that a lot of people look up to me. They think that I am this perfect little Christian girl who can do no wrong. I struggle on a daily basis to believe that God could love this ugly blob. And I hardly ever get to the point where I truly believe it. How can I allow someone else to love me when I don't even love myself?
So I struggle. I have been better since moving. It has been good for me. But I still struggle. Mentally. I struggle. I long for love, but who would love this? I long to feel like I fit in, but I never do.
Reading Portia's book has been helpful to me, but there is a danger for someone with an eating disorder to read a book about eating disorders. I found myself thinking 'that's a good idea!' when she was talking about her destructive behavior.
And so I open up to you. And I ask for help. For prayers. For guidance. I open up so that I cannot hide in this any longer. I open up so that maybe I won't feel like a failure, but will be able to feel accepted. I open up so that maybe my struggle can help you to open up.
Blessings,
Deena
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
realizations
I realized today that I consider myself to be a burden on other people. Even writing this, I feel like... oh... what a burden it will be for other people to read this. Then why do I write? No idea.
I look into my future, into the possibility of marriage, and I feel sorry for my future husband, who will have to deal not only with my over dramatic emotions, but my crippling fibromyalgia as well. And I feel like a burden.
I feel like a burden on my family. The simple fact that certain family members never call me, makes me feel like they would just rather not deal with the burden that I am. Yet they have to put up with me... well.. because they are family.
Why do I feel this way? What has happened in my life to make me feel like the biggest burden in the world? Is it the fibromyalgia? Life has definitely become more complicated since being diagnosed with it 7 years ago. But something within me knows that before I was diagnosed, I still felt this way, with my friends... so what is it...
Maybe, probably, it is my misconception of myself. Like the rest of the world, I have a very tainted view of who I am. It is usually not that great.
I was talking with a friend the other day about love and relationships. He said that he fears that he does not have the capacity to love. My fear is that I do not have the capacity to trust that you, the guy in my life, has the capacity to love me. Or wants to love me, for that matter. But why? Why is this my struggle? Everyone has the right to be loved. Why do I feel unworthy?
Sigh. I am feeling better. But these new struggles keep emerging on a daily basis.
Maybe some people are just made to feel the weight of the world on their shoulders, and others are meant to be happy and joyous at all occasions... I wish there was a happy medium. Lets try to find that happy medium.
love
Deena
I look into my future, into the possibility of marriage, and I feel sorry for my future husband, who will have to deal not only with my over dramatic emotions, but my crippling fibromyalgia as well. And I feel like a burden.
I feel like a burden on my family. The simple fact that certain family members never call me, makes me feel like they would just rather not deal with the burden that I am. Yet they have to put up with me... well.. because they are family.
Why do I feel this way? What has happened in my life to make me feel like the biggest burden in the world? Is it the fibromyalgia? Life has definitely become more complicated since being diagnosed with it 7 years ago. But something within me knows that before I was diagnosed, I still felt this way, with my friends... so what is it...
Maybe, probably, it is my misconception of myself. Like the rest of the world, I have a very tainted view of who I am. It is usually not that great.
I was talking with a friend the other day about love and relationships. He said that he fears that he does not have the capacity to love. My fear is that I do not have the capacity to trust that you, the guy in my life, has the capacity to love me. Or wants to love me, for that matter. But why? Why is this my struggle? Everyone has the right to be loved. Why do I feel unworthy?
Sigh. I am feeling better. But these new struggles keep emerging on a daily basis.
Maybe some people are just made to feel the weight of the world on their shoulders, and others are meant to be happy and joyous at all occasions... I wish there was a happy medium. Lets try to find that happy medium.
love
Deena
Sunday, October 10, 2010
guilty
I've been feeling guilty. I believe that this is why I have felt such despair as of late.
But I did not become aware of, and therefor acknowledge this guilt until recently, when I finally admitted to myself what was really bothering me. What was the root of it all.
On Wednesday morning, sadly at work, I bawled. I wept like I have not wept in years. It was in this moment that I finally gave voice to my current struggles, the struggles that had been suffocating me. That morning, I finally told someone about the demons in my head, the clouds of debt and unworthiness that had been following me, since returning from my summer of travel. My insecurity in my new life, my knew being.
I came back from Italy a different person. More aware of who I am, more in tune with my feelings and inner longings. But I also came back to a new life. Two days after returning, I moved. But days after, I was traveling again, not giving myself a chance to welcome this new life, this new freedom from the chains that I had felt in my old living situation, which had weighed me down for almost three years.
When I walked into my door at the end of my travels, the song Catalyst by Anna Nalick was playing on my iPhone, 3 cats ran to greet me, and I felt instantly, utterly alone. This, along with one other unmentionable circumstance, was the start for me. The start of this month of despair. Of unmanageable anger and grief. Yet no tears came. No gut wrenching, deep soul cleaning tears would form. My insides became harder and harder.
For once in my life, it seems, I reached out to people. I did not want to go through what I was going through. The odd thing is that the Christian friends that I reached out to, though they prayed for me, they were not THERE for me. They did not call. They did not check in. I reached out and felt alone. I did not know that they were praying. There was no communication. This destroyed me more. And I thought to myself... this is why people say that the church fails them.
A handful of incredible other friends were there for me, though. They reached out to me, in the same way that I would have reached out to them if I had been in the same boat. Dropping their plans and taking me out for supper, just to talk to me and be with me over veggie burgers and mashed potatoes. They stayed up with me till 1 am on my bed, while we talked and cried and laughed, even though they had to get up early the next morning, even though they were going through their own struggles. There were people that were there. To these people, and you know who you are, I am incredibly grateful. To the others that I reached out to, I am thankful for the prayers. Incredibly important. Yet I needed verbal communication. I needed you. Maybe I was at fault, because I didn't communicate that. Yet... I feel that I did... Sometimes we need to not expect things from people. Then there will be no disappointment when they do not react in the way that we wish for them to.
On Wednesday morning, I woke up. And I cried. I finally told my Mom about my fears, my feelings of inadequacy, my feelings of worthlessness, the thoughts that I will never amount to anything... yet the thing that really hit me was how guilty I felt about feeling so down about all of these seemingly minute things, when, in my mind, other people, other friends, they have REAL problems. I felt guilty for feeling the very real feelings that I was harboring on the inside.
The ironic thing is that I sat this summer in the courtyard of the convent in Italy, with a dear friend, ten years my junior, as tears splashed on my shirt and she admitted to me that she felt angry about the feelings that she had about certain things. And I told her, with complete certainty, that her feelings are real. That if she feels these feelings, then no one could tell her otherwise. They are real. And true. And she is allowed to feel how she feels. And that it is OK.
Last night a friend told me the same thing.
Why do we allow guilt to destroy us? I hadn't admitted my feelings about these things, very real feelings, because I felt guilty. And this month nearly destroyed me. But getting these things off of my chest, finally vocalizing them, suddenly I was better. The burden was lifted. The weight was suddenly shared. Friends came around me and yoked themselves to me and helped me carry the burden. I am forever grateful.
We need to be open with people. We need to talk. We need to be real. In the wake of all of the bullying and pain that is at the forefront of the news today, there is a desperate need for people to open up to other people, but also for people to be there for those around them. If these certain friends hadn't been there for me, I don't know what I would have done.
Open up. Encourage people. Be there for those people around you. Hanging out with a depressed person can be incredibly discouraging and even down right annoying. But when they get through what they are going through, they will look back and be able to thank you for giving up your time for them in the way that you did. For being there for them when no one else was. It is incredibly important that we give of our time for our friends. Reach out to them. You have no idea what friend is sitting at home tonight, on thanksgiving Sunday, with nowhere to go, feeling sad and alone. Pick up the phone. Call someone. Write a letter. Encourage someone. Smile at a stranger. Be a light. Treat others the way that you want to be treated. Be the difference that you want to see in the world.
Happy thanksgiving and lots of love
Deena
But I did not become aware of, and therefor acknowledge this guilt until recently, when I finally admitted to myself what was really bothering me. What was the root of it all.
On Wednesday morning, sadly at work, I bawled. I wept like I have not wept in years. It was in this moment that I finally gave voice to my current struggles, the struggles that had been suffocating me. That morning, I finally told someone about the demons in my head, the clouds of debt and unworthiness that had been following me, since returning from my summer of travel. My insecurity in my new life, my knew being.
I came back from Italy a different person. More aware of who I am, more in tune with my feelings and inner longings. But I also came back to a new life. Two days after returning, I moved. But days after, I was traveling again, not giving myself a chance to welcome this new life, this new freedom from the chains that I had felt in my old living situation, which had weighed me down for almost three years.
When I walked into my door at the end of my travels, the song Catalyst by Anna Nalick was playing on my iPhone, 3 cats ran to greet me, and I felt instantly, utterly alone. This, along with one other unmentionable circumstance, was the start for me. The start of this month of despair. Of unmanageable anger and grief. Yet no tears came. No gut wrenching, deep soul cleaning tears would form. My insides became harder and harder.
For once in my life, it seems, I reached out to people. I did not want to go through what I was going through. The odd thing is that the Christian friends that I reached out to, though they prayed for me, they were not THERE for me. They did not call. They did not check in. I reached out and felt alone. I did not know that they were praying. There was no communication. This destroyed me more. And I thought to myself... this is why people say that the church fails them.
A handful of incredible other friends were there for me, though. They reached out to me, in the same way that I would have reached out to them if I had been in the same boat. Dropping their plans and taking me out for supper, just to talk to me and be with me over veggie burgers and mashed potatoes. They stayed up with me till 1 am on my bed, while we talked and cried and laughed, even though they had to get up early the next morning, even though they were going through their own struggles. There were people that were there. To these people, and you know who you are, I am incredibly grateful. To the others that I reached out to, I am thankful for the prayers. Incredibly important. Yet I needed verbal communication. I needed you. Maybe I was at fault, because I didn't communicate that. Yet... I feel that I did... Sometimes we need to not expect things from people. Then there will be no disappointment when they do not react in the way that we wish for them to.
On Wednesday morning, I woke up. And I cried. I finally told my Mom about my fears, my feelings of inadequacy, my feelings of worthlessness, the thoughts that I will never amount to anything... yet the thing that really hit me was how guilty I felt about feeling so down about all of these seemingly minute things, when, in my mind, other people, other friends, they have REAL problems. I felt guilty for feeling the very real feelings that I was harboring on the inside.
The ironic thing is that I sat this summer in the courtyard of the convent in Italy, with a dear friend, ten years my junior, as tears splashed on my shirt and she admitted to me that she felt angry about the feelings that she had about certain things. And I told her, with complete certainty, that her feelings are real. That if she feels these feelings, then no one could tell her otherwise. They are real. And true. And she is allowed to feel how she feels. And that it is OK.
Last night a friend told me the same thing.
Why do we allow guilt to destroy us? I hadn't admitted my feelings about these things, very real feelings, because I felt guilty. And this month nearly destroyed me. But getting these things off of my chest, finally vocalizing them, suddenly I was better. The burden was lifted. The weight was suddenly shared. Friends came around me and yoked themselves to me and helped me carry the burden. I am forever grateful.
We need to be open with people. We need to talk. We need to be real. In the wake of all of the bullying and pain that is at the forefront of the news today, there is a desperate need for people to open up to other people, but also for people to be there for those around them. If these certain friends hadn't been there for me, I don't know what I would have done.
Open up. Encourage people. Be there for those people around you. Hanging out with a depressed person can be incredibly discouraging and even down right annoying. But when they get through what they are going through, they will look back and be able to thank you for giving up your time for them in the way that you did. For being there for them when no one else was. It is incredibly important that we give of our time for our friends. Reach out to them. You have no idea what friend is sitting at home tonight, on thanksgiving Sunday, with nowhere to go, feeling sad and alone. Pick up the phone. Call someone. Write a letter. Encourage someone. Smile at a stranger. Be a light. Treat others the way that you want to be treated. Be the difference that you want to see in the world.
Happy thanksgiving and lots of love
Deena
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
take my photo off the wall if it just won't sing for you...
Sometimes a circumstance will happen in our lives that, for some reason or another, can completely alter who we are for a period of time, no matter what we do to try to stop that from happening. Something happened in the past month that has made me completely question who I am... and my worth in life... and my beauty. And I despise the fact that I let this happen. That I allowed this one person to dictate my beauty and my worth to me... as a Christian, I know that it is important, nay vital, to find our my worth in Christ, not in people, not in guys. I have some friends who feel that life is not happy or complete unless they are in a relationship. I grew out of that mindset a long time ago, and have been, for the most part, content in my singleness for a long time. Even putting up walls in order to not have a relationship for fear of being hurt.
When you let someone into your life, it is a completely vulnerable thing. And you choose, in the moment, how far you will let them in. If you decide to just let go of all pretenses, be completely real and honest and live in the moment, it can be extremely scary, especially if this is the first time that you have ever entered into a relationship like this... and I think that if the relationship goes south once you have opened up this much, it can be devastating. The guy may not feel it. He may be content to move on and find someone new right away. The girl? The girl will be in pieces for months, if not years. I am in pieces.
But then I have to wonder... before I met this person, I was a confident, strong willed young woman, with a purpose and a plan for life... how has the demise of this quasi-relationship made me second guess my own worth and beauty? Why do we, as women, put our worth into the hands of guys and relationships? We look to men for approval. We need them to tell us that we are beautiful, that we are worth more than we think. We need them to pursue us and fight for us. And if they even look at us the wrong way, it can destroy the entire day. What is wrong with us? (the collective 'us'. I realize a lot of women have worked through this, but I feel that we have all been tainted by these thoughts and feelings to some extent in our lives). How have we been programed into felling this way?
Of course we can blame the media. It is just like how we blame the media for the fact that we all feel like we are 100 pounds over weight and ugly. But I think that it is deeper than that. The brilliant Eleanor Roosevelt once said that, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent", which I agree to be completely true. So why do we allow people to make us feel unloved? Ugly? Anytime we do, we are giving consent to the unknown person behind a certain advertisement, to an ex boyfriend, whatever. Why does the worlds opinion of us matter so much? Why are we so uncertain of our own beauty?
When I was younger, I used to make a lot of lists (I still do...). One of these lists was a 'to do' list and it made it to the wall beside my bed back at home. I haven't technically lived at home since I was 18 and it was never taken down for some reason. I see it whenever I go home and there are basic things on it like clean the bathroom and practice singing. Some of these things are crossed off and some aren't. One that isn't, that for some reason, my little teenage brain thought that I could actually put on a 'to do' list was this: become friends with yourself. What I didn't realize at the time was that we are our own worst enemies. And that becoming friends with ourselves, actually liking who we are as an individual, is something that takes time and depending on who you are, can be a daily struggle. But it is a daily struggle that we must endure and not push off to the side. We need to be able to look into the mirror and see someone that we like, our own self prescribed flaws and all. Because if we don't, we end up giving 'them', the world, the advertisers, the ex's, we give them too much power over our lives. In reality, God and I am in control of my life. We need to not let others make us feel less than beautiful, less than worthy.
I think these thoughts will come to all of us at some point in our lives. I know a man in his 60's who has made a fantastic name for himself. He is wealthy and worked his way there from nothing. He has, what appears, to be a good life. Yet he is incredibly depressed. Feels alone and worthless. So what should he do? What do I do, as I struggle daily with this crushing depression that I haven't felt for years? When you are depressed and feeling worthless, the last thing that you want to do is reach out to anyone. Yet we need to fight this nonsense and reach out to the people around us, the people who love us. Because they ARE there. And as a dear friend reminded me the other day, we need to think about the blessings in our lives.
Surround yourself with people who uplift you. Who see worth in you. It will rub off. Your thoughts about yourself will change for the better. Let them support you and help you to become the person that you were always intended to be. The confident, beautiful woman who IS worthy of love. In this, allow yourself to delve deeper into your relationship with God as well, if you are a Christian. It is truly in Him who we find our worth. And really, He has given us the ultimate gift of life and love. God is love. There is no denying that. One of my favorite quotes of all time is by Soren Kierkegaard; "Now, with God's help, I shall become myself". Let's allow that to be true in our lives.
Blessings and love
Deena
currently listening to: Look What You've Done by Jet
currently reading: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, Giacomo Puccini by Conrad Wilson
When you let someone into your life, it is a completely vulnerable thing. And you choose, in the moment, how far you will let them in. If you decide to just let go of all pretenses, be completely real and honest and live in the moment, it can be extremely scary, especially if this is the first time that you have ever entered into a relationship like this... and I think that if the relationship goes south once you have opened up this much, it can be devastating. The guy may not feel it. He may be content to move on and find someone new right away. The girl? The girl will be in pieces for months, if not years. I am in pieces.
But then I have to wonder... before I met this person, I was a confident, strong willed young woman, with a purpose and a plan for life... how has the demise of this quasi-relationship made me second guess my own worth and beauty? Why do we, as women, put our worth into the hands of guys and relationships? We look to men for approval. We need them to tell us that we are beautiful, that we are worth more than we think. We need them to pursue us and fight for us. And if they even look at us the wrong way, it can destroy the entire day. What is wrong with us? (the collective 'us'. I realize a lot of women have worked through this, but I feel that we have all been tainted by these thoughts and feelings to some extent in our lives). How have we been programed into felling this way?
Of course we can blame the media. It is just like how we blame the media for the fact that we all feel like we are 100 pounds over weight and ugly. But I think that it is deeper than that. The brilliant Eleanor Roosevelt once said that, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent", which I agree to be completely true. So why do we allow people to make us feel unloved? Ugly? Anytime we do, we are giving consent to the unknown person behind a certain advertisement, to an ex boyfriend, whatever. Why does the worlds opinion of us matter so much? Why are we so uncertain of our own beauty?
When I was younger, I used to make a lot of lists (I still do...). One of these lists was a 'to do' list and it made it to the wall beside my bed back at home. I haven't technically lived at home since I was 18 and it was never taken down for some reason. I see it whenever I go home and there are basic things on it like clean the bathroom and practice singing. Some of these things are crossed off and some aren't. One that isn't, that for some reason, my little teenage brain thought that I could actually put on a 'to do' list was this: become friends with yourself. What I didn't realize at the time was that we are our own worst enemies. And that becoming friends with ourselves, actually liking who we are as an individual, is something that takes time and depending on who you are, can be a daily struggle. But it is a daily struggle that we must endure and not push off to the side. We need to be able to look into the mirror and see someone that we like, our own self prescribed flaws and all. Because if we don't, we end up giving 'them', the world, the advertisers, the ex's, we give them too much power over our lives. In reality, God and I am in control of my life. We need to not let others make us feel less than beautiful, less than worthy.
I think these thoughts will come to all of us at some point in our lives. I know a man in his 60's who has made a fantastic name for himself. He is wealthy and worked his way there from nothing. He has, what appears, to be a good life. Yet he is incredibly depressed. Feels alone and worthless. So what should he do? What do I do, as I struggle daily with this crushing depression that I haven't felt for years? When you are depressed and feeling worthless, the last thing that you want to do is reach out to anyone. Yet we need to fight this nonsense and reach out to the people around us, the people who love us. Because they ARE there. And as a dear friend reminded me the other day, we need to think about the blessings in our lives.
Surround yourself with people who uplift you. Who see worth in you. It will rub off. Your thoughts about yourself will change for the better. Let them support you and help you to become the person that you were always intended to be. The confident, beautiful woman who IS worthy of love. In this, allow yourself to delve deeper into your relationship with God as well, if you are a Christian. It is truly in Him who we find our worth. And really, He has given us the ultimate gift of life and love. God is love. There is no denying that. One of my favorite quotes of all time is by Soren Kierkegaard; "Now, with God's help, I shall become myself". Let's allow that to be true in our lives.
Blessings and love
Deena
currently listening to: Look What You've Done by Jet
currently reading: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, Giacomo Puccini by Conrad Wilson
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Doctors and new beginnings...
I am grumpy. But it's a different grumpy... a weird grumpy. A grumpy I have never known before.
Today, after church, I had to go to the doctor to have an incredibly evasive test done. (everything is fine, don't worry). But it's the type of test that, if/when you have it done for the very first time, you feel so utterly and completely violated afterwards... and after finding out that everything is going to be ok, you become weary with relief. Incredibly drained because all of the worry and fear that you were trying to ignore suddenly disappears and you feel... different. Free. But in a not so free way. It is hard to explain. It is the type of thing where, after it is done, you go back to your apartment, curl up in an afghan with your cat and cry and sleep. This has been my day.
It is extremely psychological. And for someone who thinks too much about everything to begin with (but really, what girl doesn't?), it was exhausting. This is why I am grumpy. This is why I feel disgusting today. This is why I walked to work in an old t-shirt and sweat pants... and why I yelled at a man in my head for calling me beautiful, when I know darn well that I'm not (at least today). But this yelling in my head (I am the epitome of passive-aggressive) made me stop for a second and think.
Most of the people that we meet in our day, or interact with in our day, have no idea what we have already experienced. The people that I encountered later at work, had no clue that I had just had an emotionally draining day. The people whom I communicated with through facebook and e-mail didn't either. No idea. I have a problem with suffering in silence. There are a lot of things I simply choose not to complain about or talk about, because I do not see the point. Yet then, how are people to know or understand when I am dealing with something big in my life?
I go through life thinking that everyone should be able to read my thoughts. How naive. Looking back, I really think that this behavior came about when I was first diagnosed with firbomyalgia. When I was first diagnosed, I complained all the time, wanted people to pity me. Then something changed. After reading a verse in the Bible, in the book of John, my attitude changed. I tried to complain less. I had a new outlook on life, on my condition. But this being said, I stopped asking for help, even though I needed it. I think I grew to be silently proud. One of my ex's was perfect for me. He learned not to ask if he could help me, but just do things for me, grabbing heavy loads of out my hands, opening doors for me (though I tried not to let him), always giving me a seat if there was only one available (and when I tried not to let him, making me). It was good for me. After we broke up, I went back to my old habits though. Though this was 7 years ago, I am still in conflict with these habits.
I am so open with every part of my life, you all know that if you want to know something about me, no matter how personal, all you have to do is ask. Yet I am too prideful to ask for help... and I expect it from people... and get upset when they do not help me, even though I do not ask them. I just want them to know. I very much dislike that I am like this... can you please pray for me to change this mindset, to change my ways? It will take a while... but with God's help, I shall become myself. The person I am meant to be. One little annoying nuance at a time. I long to be the woman that He desires me to be. This is why I ask for your help. This is why I write. This is why I communicate with all of you. As someone who works almost all of the time, I need a lot of alone time to be able to survive. You, my friends whom I have met over the years, you have become a community that I can rely on and I am so blessed to have every one of you in my life. Thank you.
Much love,
Deena
Today, after church, I had to go to the doctor to have an incredibly evasive test done. (everything is fine, don't worry). But it's the type of test that, if/when you have it done for the very first time, you feel so utterly and completely violated afterwards... and after finding out that everything is going to be ok, you become weary with relief. Incredibly drained because all of the worry and fear that you were trying to ignore suddenly disappears and you feel... different. Free. But in a not so free way. It is hard to explain. It is the type of thing where, after it is done, you go back to your apartment, curl up in an afghan with your cat and cry and sleep. This has been my day.
It is extremely psychological. And for someone who thinks too much about everything to begin with (but really, what girl doesn't?), it was exhausting. This is why I am grumpy. This is why I feel disgusting today. This is why I walked to work in an old t-shirt and sweat pants... and why I yelled at a man in my head for calling me beautiful, when I know darn well that I'm not (at least today). But this yelling in my head (I am the epitome of passive-aggressive) made me stop for a second and think.
Most of the people that we meet in our day, or interact with in our day, have no idea what we have already experienced. The people that I encountered later at work, had no clue that I had just had an emotionally draining day. The people whom I communicated with through facebook and e-mail didn't either. No idea. I have a problem with suffering in silence. There are a lot of things I simply choose not to complain about or talk about, because I do not see the point. Yet then, how are people to know or understand when I am dealing with something big in my life?
I go through life thinking that everyone should be able to read my thoughts. How naive. Looking back, I really think that this behavior came about when I was first diagnosed with firbomyalgia. When I was first diagnosed, I complained all the time, wanted people to pity me. Then something changed. After reading a verse in the Bible, in the book of John, my attitude changed. I tried to complain less. I had a new outlook on life, on my condition. But this being said, I stopped asking for help, even though I needed it. I think I grew to be silently proud. One of my ex's was perfect for me. He learned not to ask if he could help me, but just do things for me, grabbing heavy loads of out my hands, opening doors for me (though I tried not to let him), always giving me a seat if there was only one available (and when I tried not to let him, making me). It was good for me. After we broke up, I went back to my old habits though. Though this was 7 years ago, I am still in conflict with these habits.
I am so open with every part of my life, you all know that if you want to know something about me, no matter how personal, all you have to do is ask. Yet I am too prideful to ask for help... and I expect it from people... and get upset when they do not help me, even though I do not ask them. I just want them to know. I very much dislike that I am like this... can you please pray for me to change this mindset, to change my ways? It will take a while... but with God's help, I shall become myself. The person I am meant to be. One little annoying nuance at a time. I long to be the woman that He desires me to be. This is why I ask for your help. This is why I write. This is why I communicate with all of you. As someone who works almost all of the time, I need a lot of alone time to be able to survive. You, my friends whom I have met over the years, you have become a community that I can rely on and I am so blessed to have every one of you in my life. Thank you.
Much love,
Deena
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
