Photoshop Fail

I don't know if you are familiar with Target's recent Photoshop debacle, but I need to rail. Please forgive me...

I have come to believe that Photoshop is an evil empire, sent to destroy humanity's good common sense. How did we get to this place of inviting outright deception into our homes with open arms? Now, I am the first to admit that a Photo-shopped image- if done right- looks fantastic. If I could magically Photoshop myself, I would in a hot second. But that's because I have been brainwashed by the minions that work at Cosmo, E!, and Victoria's Secret. I let some strange little man in a cubicle, with a computer and a mouse, decide the definition of beauty for me (I picture a little man in a cubicle... it may or may not be true). And I'm a sucker for beautiful things. You could wrap hairy warts in a pretty pink bow and I'd buy it (kidding! But you get the point). And obviously I'm not the only one who drank the Kool-Aid; EVERYTHING is Photo-shopped for a reason, after all.

Honestly, I only really started raising my hackles when I decided to join a particular photography site. Amateurs like myself get a chance to enter our photos for prizes and critique, which sounded fun. Until I read the fine print- basically ANY photo could be submitted. That meant my plain-jane photos would go up against the glossy, sleek, stylized PHOTOSHOP competitors. Granted, those pictures are cool and interesting. Like the one of a woman digitally manipulated to walk on water. But it's fake! How is that Photography? Shouldn't that fall under the Creative Editing category?! Any yahoo with Photoshop or GIMP (poor man's Photoshop) can play God and erase or create at will. That's the scary thought right there- how do we know that what we see is real anymore?

Ok, I'll get off my soapbox now. I just wanted to release some steam. It is unlikely society will reverse this trend of desecrating body image for profit. But it's a shame. Who are we to say God's handiwork is soo sub-par, we need airbrushing to fix His "mistakes?" It made me stop and reflect on my ancestors; Thousands of people who lived and breathed, sweated and survived, loved and were loved in turn. These people passed down precious DNA that determined my blue eyes and full hips. To sneer at that is to insult every unique molecule that only a human can reproduce. So there Photoshop! You may mock me, but you can never be me!

Let's unplug Photoshop and accept REAL for a change! 

Pictures courtesy of http://www.psdisasters.com/

The Least of These

Hello Dear Readers,

I just want to share a sweet story with you. It began several weeks ago with my family watching Mama Hummingbird making her nest in an arbor out front. The beauty and camouflage of her precious dwelling is awe-inspiring, but being the super-nerd I am, I began researching Hummingbirds and now I am beyond impressed with these little creatures.

To help Mama with her heavy responsibilities, we placed extra feeders around the yard so she could eat closer to home. The rest is up to her, right? Well, that didn't satisfy my little brother. The biggest animal lover and softy that ever lived took it to the next level.

Dallas Raines was forecasting BIG RAIN with his magical Megadoppler, so immediately we worried about Mama and her wee babies- after all, she didn't have very much protection in the sparse tree. While Mom and I sat in bewilderment, Dr. Doolittle went straight to work. He pulled out the ladder, descended to the heavens, and STUCK AN UMBRELLA OVER THE NEST! Yes. An umbrella. Mission accomplished!

Nervous Nelly Me was scared Mama would flee in terror and abandon those tiny little eggs, but I was wrong. Thanks to Wikipedia, I learned that Hummingbirds (and birds in general) don't "smell" humans and therefore will NOT skip out on their tainted children. Phew! Mama returned to her cozy home as if nothing happened.

Well, Dallas was right for once and the rain came. We took turns checking on the fun-sized family and were delighted to see a dry and happy (I think) bird. Then the rain left as soon as it arrived. Winter in California- officially over.

BUT, we left her cover in place. I really think she likes it! On one of her outings I lugged out that awkward ladder (I really hate carrying those things) and tried to take a peek. The placement of the nest plus the umbrella made it almost impossible, but I was able to spy teeny-tiny beaks gawking at the sky. Mazel Tov!

Still hatch-lings, we eagerly await their development and hopefully add two more members to our avian yard-family. Caring for God's creatures fills a hole in me like nothing else does (don't ask how many rescue animals we have!) and watching my little brother do the same sparked a tenderness in me that should be there more often- especially toward God's human creatures.

So, this post is a reminder about "caring for the least of these" and encouraging others to do so (Matthew 25:40). It's easy to look away, pretend to be busy digging in your purse, or feign interest in the lint on your pants when "the least of these" needs help. Lord knows I'm the guiltiest of all. So, hopefully you are encouraged to be brave and loving. Watching little bro encouraged me, so this is for him.

Oh no! Not again!

Yes, it's birthday time! Ugh. It's that time of year I like to take stock of all my shortcomings, mistakes, and wrinkles (I created a nice one between my eyes where I squint a lot) and offer it up to myself as a twisted birthday gift. Gee, no wonder I'm depressed!

I also love to look back and tally up the years of things. For example, I was in Kindergarten 27 years ago! I still remember my classmates (Hi Winfred, Jessica, Chris, Joe, Stephanie...). I've been driving 16 years. And the movie "Clueless"- almost 20 years ago!!! Where did the time go?

In the intervening years I have developed a rather lengthy Bucket List (which just keeps growing). Some items I gleefully crossed off like skydiving, seeing Ireland, and taking Pole Fitness classes (that's a whole story unto itself)! Yet, I always compare the length of the list to my age and feel as though time is running out for everything. How can I possibly accomplish it all?

Thankfully, the last few years have given me perspective. In the end, who cares if I learned to play the guitar or visited Morocco? What REALLY matters is letting the people in my life know how wonderful they are. Because they are truly magnificent! And the love and gratitude I have for them runs soo deep, it's difficult to find words adequate for description. I am not a very warm or fuzzy person... I tend to keep my emotional cards close to my chest. So I added a new item to my Bucket List-

I will endeavor to share my love for others. And the form in which I do this will be special and unique to each person. I stand amazed at how anyone can love a fractured, hairy mess such as myself- and honestly, I find it impossible- but I am blessed with such people in my life and they deserve to be loved on. So, this birthday, I will (try) to ignore that wrinkle, I will NOT beat up on myself, and I will begin my newest mission. And this item on my Bucket List will never be crossed out because this goal will last until my dying breath.

Here's to you my special, beautiful, important people! I'm sorry I don't tell you more often I LOVE YOU!!! And you are the best birthday gift a girl could ever ask for.

Saying Goodbye

Hi Dear Reader,

I wrote a post a while ago about the day my father died. I have sat on it until now, finally deciding to delete it. I won't publish it because frankly, some things are too sacred to minimize with mere mortal words. Never could I adequately relay that monumental day and it's impact on my life. So instead, I will talk about loss in general.

Losing things- from car keys to loved ones- causes disorientation in most of us. I think this is because we imbue our identity into those things. They are a physical connection to a world filled with abstract ideas and to lose even a small part of that- a part of ourselves- is cause for panic. And no matter the significance of said object, the repercussions are real enough.

I "lost" my father shortly after my 30th birthday. Two weeks later I "lost" the only grandparent I have ever known. Not long after, I literally "lost" myself as a nervous breakdown removed me from my old life and gave me a new life completely foreign and undiscovered. I am starting at zero.

Recently, I even "lost" my job. Not just a job. I worked full-time and attended school four nights a week to earn my Masters Degree. Then I began a career that spanned six years and instilled a large identity within me. I had knowledge, authority, my own office, even professional name cards! I had the ability to HELP people! Amazing. But I get it; lay-offs happen. It wasn't personal. It was a matter of numbers and I missed the seniority cut-off by a matter of days. I believe things happen for a reason. What I didn't need was another loss. I am starting at zero.

But, survival is all about perspective. You know, glass half-full kinda thing. I like to think of myself as a realist. I definitely don't wax Pollyanna but I also try to avoid the "dark side" as much as possible. So, in essence I take the good with the bad. I hate this "blind leading the blind" feeling, but I am extremely grateful for all that I DID have. Without the U of R, I wouldn't have met my best friend. And without Goodwill, I wouldn't have met my second family and nurtured my "adopted" children.

Loss happens. So be prepared. Love hard, forgive easily, and always thank God. No regrets. And if you squint hard enough, there is always a silver lining in the storm.

Off Topic... Sort of

I wrote this a few days before the death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman- an actor whose talent I enjoyed and will miss. His story puts my "addiction" in perspective and reminds me that the grass is NOT always greener on the other side...



Warning for the squeamish!



Dermatillomania- Fancy term for compulsive skin picking. Ew.



I have given up on making New Year resolutions. I just don't have the patience. Plus, I tend to go easy on myself in terms of structure. I like freedom and gray areas and fluid boundaries. But one resolution I should make (and stick to) is overcoming "Dermatillomania." Since time immemorial, I have literally SHREDDED my cuticles. And nail-biting comes a close second. Why? Because it feels good.



That sounds gross and it is! My fingers are raw, swollen, scarred, and hideous. And while I care, I don't care enough to really stop it. It is my comfort. It brings me peace and serenity. There is nothing more satisfying than a really thrashed cuticle that needs LOTS of attention. Ripping that excess skin off is the equivalent of taking a Xanax. Even the pain (in moderation) is enjoyable. Unfortunately, the side effects are not as much fun. Right now my right thumb and forefinger are screaming as I type- I had a really good tearing session this morning. And the blood. I hate blood. And when I make myself bleed, I am disappointed because I went too far- the challenge is to satisfy the craving while avoiding that bit of nastiness. Thirdly, my hands are embarrassing. I can't count how many times I tried to hide them from others while at work and in public. My dear secretary kept me well stocked in band-aids, for all of my "paper-cuts." Yet, still I pick.



I apologize for being graphic about this. But I read another woman's confession and was inspired to share mine. Because this is really no different than alcohol, drugs, cutting, etc. I am addicted to needing something to ease my anxiety and give me comfort. Thankfully, this won't cause serious bodily harm to myself or others, but the point is the same. It is easy to brush this off as a "bad habit" and something that I "can quit whenever I want to." Well, it's time to 'fess up. And it is seriously time to stop- how will I ever get a boyfriend with these hands?!?



(Joking aside, as a counselor it behooves me to encourage my Dear Readers to seek help if they are struggling to overcome an addiction- that is no laughing matter). And I promise not to share any more bloody tales if I can help it. 

Hysteria

Hi Dear Readers,

While I want my posts to be honest, I don't want them too heavy. We all have enough weight to carry on our own, am I right? Sometimes I can be funny (quite on accident), so as I share my woes, I will endeavor to crack a smile or squeeze a snicker if I can!

I promised to recount Act I of "The Nervous Breakdown." First of all, even though I am a trained professional counselor in mental health, I never really believed those things existed. It was easier to believe that some people were just melodramatic and/or weak. Well, open mouth and insert foot, because I learned my lesson! It's really quite embarrassing to admit that I didn't even notice the warning signs, despite my training and years of experience. It was the ANXIETY that pushed me over the edge. I capitalize that nasty word because when suffering with it, it feels like it's crushing you as it's staring you in the face. 

It began at night. I couldn't sleep, though exhausted. The second my head hit the pillow, my heart would pound drums in my ears, I could feel blood coursing through my veins, and I could not reign in the cyclone of thoughts and worries that pummeled through my brain. I'm sure you have had a night or two like that? Tack on months of no sleep and stress (whether good or bad) and my mornings began to suffer. I became so debilitated, I literally could not lift my head up from my pillow. I felt like dead weight super-glued to the mattress. Initially, I could break paralysis and manage to get to work (usually late). But soon, I couldn't even accomplish that. The anxiety fed on itself and grew into this monster bigger and stronger than me. I was afraid of everything. Afraid to go to bed (because I couldn't sleep), afraid to wake up (because of the paralysis), afraid of work (because I was barely functioning), afraid to drive (because sleep deprivation and anxiety are a deadly cocktail on the Cajon Pass), just plain afraid. But of course, I kept thinking, this will get better. I will get better. 

I got worse. My depression naturally deepened as I continually lost control. But keep in mind, I truly believed this would just "get better." I thought it was a phase and that I could eventually control this rollercoaster. After suffering with horrendous TMJ in my jaw for years, I had jaw surgery in November and spent my holidays with my mouth wired shut. I had researched beforehand everything I could about the surgery and knew that it was pretty hectic. But nothing prepared me for the emotional, mental, and physical toll it would take. Without gory details, let's just say that I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. While my mouth was out of order, I ended a relationship AND bought a house! Apparently, I am a glutton for punishment who loves to multi-task. And while buying my house was a huge blessing, it's part of that (good) stress that often intermingles with the bad. 

Returning to work only worsened things. I don't want to get specific, but I was dealing with some unsavory situations that exponentially triggered my anxiety and depression. But, "Just deal with it" has been a historic family motto and I intended to live by it. And I probably would have lasted until June if not for the month of April...

Chapter 2

First, I would like to thank everyone who showered me with encouragement and kindness! I am so humbled to have such lovely Readers!

Second, I would like to quickly elaborate on why I'm here. This isn't just about "free therapy" (although it serves that function nicely). I'm here to discuss mental illness. Because it is mental illness that has created many detours in my "grand plan" for life. And it is mental illness that continues to be misunderstood and taboo. If you, Dear Reader, do not endure mental illness yourself, I would be willing to bet you know someone who does. Hopefully I can shed light, share insight, and maybe even help a friend or two along the way.

So, back to my story. While working at an elementary school, I was lucky to meet some amazing people who helped me find a new path. A year and a half later, I left the University of Redlands with a Masters in School Counseling and an awesome best friend. That fall, I began my career as a Counselor at Goodwill Education Center. I found my calling. I loved working with my continuation high school students. These kids, cast off and judged as "bad" and "hopeless," have been some of the most amazing people I have ever been privileged to educate. The cherry on top was my co-Counselor Lora, who continues to be my partner-in-crime and super-fun travel buddy! But those six years were full of as much turmoil as joy. Without being too specific (I'm not here to blame or call-out anyone), there were times I struggled going to work. We all know how detrimental stress can be... well I found out the hardest way possible. It built up slowly; so slowly I never noticed it. Then my world was ripped apart.

My father died April 12, 2011. Two weeks later, my grandmother followed. I had never experienced loss so close to my heart and I was ill-prepared for that shock. In swooped Depression and Anxiety. Although I have suffered Clinical Depression since the age of 12, I didn't recognize the degree to which I encountered then. I was in a whole new league. Add stress at work and I welcomed my first of two "nervous breakdowns." I'll get into that more later though...

Fast forward to now-ish. I left my beautiful home and moved back in with Mom. I couldn't fathom her living alone now that the two people she cared for full-time were gone. Then last year my district laid off 8 counselors due to budget constraints and I was lucky number 7 on the seniority list.

But I honestly can't complain. In fact, I am quite blessed and try to remember that every day. I live with my best friend and in my childhood home, surrounded by warmth, love, memories, and lots of pets! I still own my home, I just don't live IN it. I can still afford (barely) to pay my bills and entertain my simple pleasures. I have freedom and no regrets. Best of all, I have been blessed with TIME. Time to think, to plan, to dream, to grow, to learn, to discover, to heal, and to forge a new life. So yes, technically I am "lost" if looking at my life on paper. But with God in control, I really can't be too far gone. I've just "wandered" off a little...

There's my life in a nutshell. Stay tuned if hearing about a nervous breakdown peaks your interest  ;)

Lost (def): not knowing where you are or how to get to where you want to go : unable to find your way.

 Greetings Reader if you are out there. I can't believe I'm blogging but then again, I can't believe a lot of things about my life. I am the living definition of LOST (courtesy of Merriam-Webster) and I figured I might as well invite anyone else that feels this way (or not) to join me on this bizarre journey. So, hi.

I'm still undecided as to how confessional I want this to be, so I'll just play it by ear. While I think sharing my woes could be helpful (if not entertaining), I tend to be a private person. Either way, my goal in writing this is to voice my inner turmoil with cathartic hope. And if that opens the door to healing for you, then count me blessed.

Another huge obstacle I am conquering is pride. Unabashedly spilling my life story is a lesson in humility for me. I would much rather everyone on Facebook think my life is perfect. But alas, it is FAR from it. So, why pretend? It's exhausting! Besides, deep down we ALL know that no one's life is perfect. So I will raise my hand, stand in front of the class, and with a red face and shaky hands, share my assignment with you.

Here goes. I am lost. Not "I just graduated from college lost" or "I'm not sure I want to stay in this (fill in the blank) lost". I am straight-up, not exaggerating, beyond comprehension L.O.S.T. Here is the rundown: I am almost 33, I am unemployed, single, I live with my mom, I'm struggling with my faith, and I have NO clue what I want to do with my life- let alone tomorrow. I spent the first 22 years of my life following a pretty simple plan: wake up, go to school, keep my nose clean. I followed that plan to a T. Then come June 2000-something of my 22nd year, the plan ended. I had a BA in Sociology which is like having a degree in Curling (the sport, not the hairstyle) and no clue what was next. So, like most college grads, I worked minimum wage jobs that had no relation to my educational degree and just enjoyed my young 20's because I could! At that age, the future is still this far-off fantasy thing that will come 'one day.' Well, that day has arrived and it looks NOTHING like I though it would! 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading :)