mental health

Sunshine, Music and Self Care

mental health, Uncategorized

I’m sitting outside this afternoon. Thick sweatshirt, bundled in my oversized, velvety blanket. I was listening to the beautiful sound of the melting snow running off the roofs. But there was also the sound of the neighbor spitting repeatedly, so my earbuds are in and The Lumineers are playing. Their music comforts my soul. So does the sun as it shines, hiding every so often behind the clouds, but never for long. Their warm rays are a welcome respite from the cold of winter that still surrounds me. The gravel covered driveway is mostly clear, just patches of snow left. Piles and mountains of it are still in the yard, but it’s March. It’ll be a while before it clears and we find ourselves walking along the wooden path, planning the flowers and vegetables for the planters.

I don’t take nearly enough time to escape. To go to the front porch, a bedroom, or even to kick back in the recliner with my earbuds in and listen to music. To close my eyes and truly hear what the lyrics are saying, how the music makes my body move and sway. To let it all surround me and wrap me up in the sounds and meanings and words. To let go of everything weighing on me and be in the moment. When you’re a caregiver, things like that are easy to let slip away. Sometimes the effort to just get up and out of the chair when you’ve got a moment to rest is asking too much. Sometimes when you sit down, you don’t get up again for a long time.

The sun is behind a massive covering of clouds, the wind is starting to whip around and it’s cold. Breezy cold. Depending on how the wind blows the clouds, it might come back. Or it might not. But I had twenty minutes of spirit recharging bliss.

Self care. It’s necessary, needed, and so often, damn hard to do. We often feel like self care has to be something big – a trip out to a shop, a massage, a visit with friends. And it is that. Those are all definitely moments of self care. But so is a few minutes lost in music. A quick pop out onto the porch to breathe deep while letting the sun warm your skin or the breeze blow away the frustrations of the day.

Listen to your gut. That wee voice or feeling of your intuition. Today I listened to mine, something I’m working on doing more often. Because I did, I got that beautiful moment in the sun.

Wishing you moments of peace…

J.H.

I need something.

mental health

I don’t even know what. The past four days have held the highest of highs, as well as the frazzliest of frazzling moments.

A friend recently called me a master plate spinner. And at this moment, I do believe I’ve dropped a few. And the others? I feel like throwing them.

So I close my eyes and do just that.

That visual feels… Powerful. Strong. Triumphant. Throwing those plates against the ground, watching each one shatter, and then taking the spinning sticks and smashing the fuck out of them. Pounding them until they are scattered everywhere. These sharp, odd shapes, like pieces of a mosaic.

But then…

I imagine gathering them up. Sitting in silence with them. Cradling them in my hands as their jagged edges prick my skin. This time truly seeing them, feeling them. Knowing them. I hold them close to my heart and feel a warm glow infusing them with love, compassion, self-care, patience, grace, and an acknowledgement that sometimes things need to break so that they can be put back together in a better way.

I feel that glow from my heart binding those pieces back together but… differently this time. They’ve changed.

And so have I.

J.H.

Better Living Through Chemicals & Other Coping Strategies

mental health

One of the most precious gifts in life is a friend who reminds you of who you are when you are lost. A dear friend gave me that a few days ago during a melancholy night when I was a little lost in my head and forlorn. It came in the form of both words and art, a reminder that I am a warrior, that my heart, art, words, and connection to nature are my strengths. She placed my warrior’s sword back in my hand so I could slice through the bullshit and lies coming from the anxiety and depression. 

Adding to the difficulties were a lack of sleep and intense, vivid dreams of people mad at me, hating me, refusing to listen to or acknowledge me, tracking me down, and/or trying to kill me. Night after night after miserable night.

I suspect the dreams are brought on by a medication I restarted a few weeks ago for both anxiety and allergies. However, it’s not lost on me that several of the people frustrating the ever-loving hell out of me in real life have been in my dreams and yes, they were the ones making me miserable. 

I suspect that taking only one dose instead of two will relieve me of the dreams. I tried it one night and it worked. (Hopefully that wasn’t just a coincidence.) And for that, I’m luckier than some who live with these nightmares every night, no matter what. 

Several different medications help control the anxiety, depression, and ADHD that I’ve lived with since I was a child. Because I’m feeling quite stable right now, I do worry a little about cutting a dose. But how much good is an anti-anxiety pill when it’s worsening the anxiety?

Meds are an important part of my mental health care routine; however, being creative is every bit as essential. My 30s taught me that it’s a necessity. Whether it’s painting, drawing, digital art, embroidery, or writing, if I go too long without it, my life fumbles and falters, and I find myself falling down, painful and hard. 

Especially vital to surviving this beautiful, painful, and chaotic thing called life? My kindred spirits, as Anne Shirley would say. Those marvelous, beloved women with whom I have a strong bond. As a shy, introverted, and socially anxious young girl, never did I think that I would find myself with this pack of fierce, loving, generous, supportive women. And that I’m not just with them but am truly one of them? Damn!