Stronger struggle

            For a very long time, I didn’t like myself very much. I know, that seems completely incongruous with the person you know now. But it’s true; I genuinely did not like myself for most of the first half of my life to date. I wasn’t pretty enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I wasn’t even smart enough. I was a bad daughter, a bad sister, a bad friend. Worse than that, I didn’t really believe I deserved any better because in addition to not liking myself, I didn’t love myself. At all. I’d go so far as to say I actually hated myself in a way that I am not now nor have ever been capable of hating another person.

            And I was depressed. Clinically, markedly, chronically depressed. Even when I was happy, there was a voice inside of me telling me I wasn’t worthy of that happiness, that even if it seemed like things were fine or that people liked me, I didn’t deserve it. I’d either fooled them somehow or they were just too stupid to see the real, wholly unworthy me. And that led me to do a lot of really dumb things. Trying to bribe boys to like me in middle school, trying to be the superior smart girl in high school, and finally trying to just end it all when I got out of college and had no more energy or resources to keep pretending.

            But one day, it stopped. I just stopped being depressed for reasons I do not to this day understand. It just went away. And once I stopped hating myself, I gradually got to a point where I not only loved myself, but I really and truly liked myself. I looked in the mirror, and I smiled at the woman I’d become. I liked that smile, and I liked the person who was behind it. She really was smart (in a book sense; even I’ve never been delusional enough to believe I have a lot of common sense), she really was pretty, and yeah, she could stand to lose a few pounds but the body she had was kind of sexy and, well, it did what it was supposed to do and it did it pretty damn well, thank you very much.

When I started liking myself, I had more room to like other people, and it suddenly became important to me to be the kind of friend I’d always wanted others to be to me. Not in a “I do for you; you do for me” kind of way, but just in a way whereby I felt good about myself and even better about the other person the more I could be there for her or him. I discovered I have a really generous nature, and that I have an almost limitless ability to forgive and understand others in the way I had forgiven and understood myself. I started to want more from my life than just accepting the way things were or even making the best of a bad situation. I began to believe, and eventually acted on, the idea that my life could be as good as I wanted it to be; the only limit was my own capacity to believe and act on my dreams.

I’ve lived in LA for a year now (well, a year and almost two weeks if you want to get technical), something I talked about and dreamed about for over a decade before it finally happened. Before I made it happen. I found a good apartment in a great neighborhood, doing something I never thought I’d do by moving to an urban environment. I got a classroom teaching job again at a school that on the surface might not seem a good match but where, at the end of the day, I truly have a chance to make a difference in a way I never have before. And I got to spend more time with my friends, make some new ones and flesh out my wonderful security blanket of folks whose love for me I never, ever doubt.

When you care about someone, you almost automatically and against your will have to take what they say more seriously. Some of that explains the self-loathing I experienced earlier in life, but more importantly it has brought something to me recently that I had pretty much abandoned in my dogged quest to find validity and significance within myself. I care what the people close to me think. I value their opinions. They matter, and how they feel about me and what they think about me- and for me- matters to me.

If you’ve spent so much time isolating your emotional self so as not to risk being brought down or hurt or damaged, it’s a bit unnerving to suddenly find yourself questioning…yourself. But in the past few weeks, I’ve slowly come to realize that to question is not to fail or to weaken or to put myself at risk. It’s not even demonstrative of a lack of gratitude for how good things are; if anything, it’s the antithesis of that! If I am truly grateful for the person into whom I have evolved, then I have to keep evolving. I can’t just rest, fat and happy, where I am now. And the only way to keep evolving is to shake the tree a bit, to question and reconsider and reevaluate. It doesn’t mean I have to start disliking myself again, or that by recognizing that perhaps I’ve hung onto certain ideas for too long and need to move beyond them I am somehow not being true to the real me. If anything, it means that I have come to so secure a place in my emotional wellbeing that I can actually risk a little unsurity, a little upheaval.

So bring it on, self. Let’s keep this river flowing, keep this moving sidewalk rolling forward, keep this person growing and evolving. It might not feel great all the time, but as I told my students a million times this year, “Struggle is good for you. Struggle makes you stronger.”  And I think I am finally strong enough to struggle with myself again.

Special Snowflake

I have always hated the expression “special snowflake.” The implication is, when this particularly snarky phrase is employed, that the person in question is not so special and is, in fact, just a snowflake like all of the other snowflakes out there. Yes, I realize that the belief is that no two snowflakes are alike, but these two words when put together imply that someone thinks s/he is…well, more special than all of the other snowflakes. And this bothers the crap out of me because I feel that we ARE all special snowflakes- with no snark at all intended. Every last one of us is special and wonderful and unique and deserving of all we desire, and just because we think this does not make us entitled or delusional or- most importantly- of the opinion that we are somehow better than the other snowflakes.

But this weekend I had a comeuppance of sorts in relation to my particular belief in my own special snowflakeness. As any of you who followed my weekend at ComicCon via Facebook know, SDCC was a huge disappointment for me. I went in thinking I was going to get to get a tshirt signed by the cast of Sons of Anarchy - never bothering to look more fully into a) the way the tickets for said signing were being dealt out by FOX, aka The Evil Empire or b) the fact that even those who did get tickets were only allowed to have the provided poster signed by the cast- unpersonalized, no real face time with the actors and definitely no passing along of the cookies I am now very grateful I was too lazy to make before I left Santa Monica. I also thought that I’d get into Hall H to watch the Sons of Anarchy panel, and even after I saw the literally tens of thousands of people in line for Hall H, I still rationalized that since the Dr. Who panel was over hours beforehand, I’d certainly be able to find a seat in the cavernous epicenter of the ComicCon experience. Let me be wholly, nakedly honest with you all- I spent just around $500 on my overall ComicCon experience to do the two aforementioned things – and I got to do neither. And it sucked. And I think that while I publically applied logic to my belief that I would get to do these things (“I am getting there really early!” “The hall will clear out in time for the panel I want to go to, and anyway it’s at the end of the weekend, so who’s really going to stick around for it?!”), the sad truth is that I believed I would get to do these things simply because I wanted to.

Let me be even a little more honest for a moment. I generally get what I want a good deal more than your average person. Whether this is because I am very tenacious or because I can be very charming or because I do seem to have better-than-average luck most of the time, I don’t know. I just know that people I am close to marvel at the way things often fall my way, and people who don’t know me or don’t like me… well, don’t like me even more. I posted on Facebook that I wanted a ticket to ComicCon long after they had ostensibly sold out; a ticket to ComicCon appeared (thanks to a generous friend who let me buy one of the tickets allotted to his booth). My lodging plans got more complicated than I was happy with; a reasonably priced hotel within a reasonable distance was suddenly available (and I got an upgrade, btw! J). These things were well within my wheelhouse and the “bubble” (a la Jon Hamm’s character on 30 Rock) within which my life often seems exist.

But friends far more experienced with San Diego ComicCon kindly (or at least matter-of-factly) told me that I was going to be tired of the lines, that even if I waited I wasn’t going to get into what I wanted to, that the crowds would prove daunting and that I was not going to have the golden experience I anticipated and, frankly, felt I deserved. And I poo-poo’ed them soundly. I knew more than they did- not about ComicCon, per se, but about me. And my special snowflakeness was simply not going to be bound by the rules and parameters that the rest of the hoi polloi were subject to.

Lesson learned.

I’m not going to stop thinking I am special, nor that anyone else is every bit as special as I am. But I think I have had a valuable (and rather pricey, both financially and psychologically) experience in recognizing that there are some things that I can’t want into existence simply by the strength of my desire to make them so (Number One ;-). And if this lesson is going to prove truly worthwhile and actually have some value beyond my just swearing up and down that there is no effing way I am ever going to ComicCon ever again, I need to extend it a bit.

There are other things I want- to be thinner and healthier, to meet someone I can have a loving, healthy, romantic relationship with, to more consistently be the better version of myself I see from time to time. And if I really want those things, then I am not going to be able to just “magic” them into existence through the sheer force of my desire for them: I’m going to have to do some actual work in those directions. And it’s not going to be easy work. It’s going to require discomfort and self-denial and making difficult and unpleasant choices in the short term because they will…no, may… lead to better things in the long term. And even if I put in all that time and effort and thought and desire, I still may not get what I want, but I need to be willing to take that risk.

For now, I am going to thank my friends for not saying “TOLD YOU SO, DUMBASS!”  and I’m going to go ice my aching knee to make up for the hell I put it through this weekend. Maybe my snowflake will regain some of her sparkly specialness when I can take the leap of working towards something(s) I want while fully recognizing I might not land softly. 

Saying Goodbye to Cory Monteith

I don’t know exactly why Cory Monteith’s death is producing such deep, profound and unmitigated sadness in me. Of course the death of those who pass too young is always heartbreaking. Of course it is even more so when you know the death is avoidable, such as is the case when addiction or mental illness takes them from us. And of course, I was and am a big fan of Glee. But the depth of feeling I have in relation to Cory’s untimely demise goes beyond that. I mean, as a fan of Angel I’ve had to deal with the death of two of its stars far before they should have left this earth, and lord knows I’m a bigger Whedonite than I am a Gleek. 

Part of it, I think, is having watched the journey that Cory’s character Finn Hudson had taken and what his character’s growth meant to the scores of young people who watched the show. Finn showed that you could be cool and be into singing show tunes. He came back from devastating personal blows (his best friend got his girlfriend pregnant, his wedding to his next girlfriend didn’t happen, he essentially flunked out of the military) to finally find a path that had the potential to lead him in the right direction. Finn decided he wanted to be a teacher, and this plot development on Glee happened right around the time that the news broke that Cory was reentering rehab. Having successfully combatted addiction as a teenager, at the urging of friends and family (and long before he was famous), Cory was unusually forthcoming about his struggles and brutally honest about the fact that he once again needed help. The fact that the character with which he will now always and only be associated also had struggled and found the help he needed (but would undoubtedly have had a happier ending than Cory) just breaks my heart.

I have read posts by some uncharitable people who say that addiction is a weakness, that it was stupid of Cory to get back into the drugs that would ultimately take his life. Those people are wrong, plain and simple. People don’t choose to become addicts, and they certainly don’t choose to die from overdosing on drugs or alcohol. Addiction is a disease, not a choice. It isn’t as simple as “Just say no” (one of myriad reasons why I refuse to give money to anti-drug-and-alcohol programs that take this grossly simplistic approach). Something in the psychological and physical wiring and chemistry of addicts is different, something about them creates a dependency that in the rest of us would only at worst lead to some pictures we’d rather forget and at best an evening or two we can’t remember. As Cory himself acknowledged in several interviews, his need for drugs didn’t stem from a desire to have a good time.  It was a response to a deep, terrifying loneliness that made him feel different from everyone else around him. Drugs provided an escape and a way to not be Cory for a little while, and because of his underlying medical and psychological issues he became an addict. Ironically, it was the fact that his character Finn was so different from this, at least before more depth and layers were added to his persona, which drove Cory to come forward three years ago and share his troubled past.

Glee has dealt with a number of important issues that are often on the minds of its young fan base (and some of us older Gleeks, too)- coming out as gay and transgender, teen pregnancy, illness in a parent, homelessness, betrayal of friendship, and not knowing what one wants from one’s future. Some of my younger friends are wondering if the show will be cancelled now, but I would be surprised if that were the case. That old adage “the show must go on” isn’t just about Broadway, and the Glee franchise is a multimillion dollar business that employs hundreds of people whose lives will go on even if Cory’s will not. My hope is that Finn is written out of the show as having gone to get his teaching degree at some far-away college, and Ryan Murphy and his team will elegantly write some sort of graceful closure for Rachel, Finn’s Glee soul mate (I can’t even begin to address how poor Lea Michelle, Cory’s real-life fiancée, will deal with this). But then I hope they will take it one step further. I hope that they will have one of the characters on the show struggle with addiction and lose the battle; no neat solutions or loose ends tidily cleaned up within the 44 minutes of the show. And I hope they then spend a good, long time focusing on how this affects those left behind, how addiction hurts those who never even touch drugs or alcohol at least as much as it harms the addicts themselves. If that keeps one Glee fan from starting down the road to addiction, if it makes one viewer who is already addicted seek treatment, if it offers comfort to one family member of a deceased addict who can say, “I’m not struggling with my loss alone,” then Glee will truly have moved on from just being a show about good-looking kids with nice voices.

Rest in peace, Cory. Thank you for returning the compliment when I told you that you had nice teeth. Thank you for creating an iconic character who brought a lot of good into the lives of many fans who need role models like Finn Hudson. And thank you, I hope, for providing an inspiration by negative example through your death. It would be better to still have you with us, but since we can’t I hope your legacy is that you made people happy in life and thoughtful in death.

Numb Bum A Thon

So I said I was going to write every day, and even though it’s been a looong day I am determined NOT to break this resolution…at least not on Day One ;-)

Today, in spite of my struggle to stay awake past midnight last night, I got up very early (all things considered) and drove up to Haverhill for our second Numb Bum A Thon. This event is modeled after Harry Knowles’ (of Ain’t It Cool News) annual movie marathon, which, I believe, is held annually in Austin. Chris Golden and John McIlveen put together a collection of movies that even our/their crowd of cinephiles hasn’t seen, for the most part, and at Mac’s very posh screening room of his apartment complex folks wander in and out throughout the morning, afternoon and evening, eating too much junk food and enjoying the fact that we’re all, for the most part, horror/sci-fi/fantasy geeks to one degree or another.

I will be honest- this year’s movies did not resonate with me the way last year’s did. We watched “Twins of Evil” (an unintentionally hilarious 70s horror film whose male star looked distractingly like Jimmy Fallon), “The Raid- Redemption” (a Korean action film that Max loved but I got bored with the initially impressive fighting sequences), “Juan of the Dead” (this was the winner for me- a Cuban zombie movie that was both funny and, at times, rather poignant – and in spite of its title, NOT a Shaun of the Dead rip-off) and finally, Spider Baby (a late 60s black and white movie that had some surprisingly good performances from two young actresses but was otherwise just…weird. And not in the good way).  Bottom line – what the hell ELSE was I going to be doing today, right? I got to see people I like, I got to hang out with Max and we had a good drive there and back (all the driving to and from Amherst has made the Haverhill haul seem like a cakewalk now). So though I am tired now, and tomorrow is going to be a bear, I’m glad I went.

New Year's Resolutions

So as I mentioned in the comments on a friend’s Facebook query about New Year’s resolutions- I am not a big believer. Generally, I think you can resolve to do things and make changes any day of the year- and you can break those personal agreements just as easily any day of the year as well! So why start off a brand spanking new year with a likely check in the “FAIL!” category?!

But all that said, this year I am making New Year’s resolutions. 2013 is going to be a year of huge changes for me, and I decided that I want to start contributing to the positive nature of those changes right from Day One. You know that old warning NOT to put it in writing? Well the opposite can also be true, so that is why I am putting my 2013 New Year’s resolutions right here where everyone can see them and encourage me both to hang tough in sticking to them and to give myself a break when I don’t.

Without further ado, here is my list:

1.     Change the cat litter every day – My cats are my most constant companions, and they provide me with a remarkable amount of unconditional love and happiness. The least I can do is make their environment more pleasant and sanitary.

2.     Put away the laundry right when it comes out of the dryer, even if another load is still drying – Man, I can sleep for a week or more with a pile of clean laundry on the other side of the bed. And the aforementioned cats really like to sleep in said pile of laundry on the other side of the bed. But that sort of defeats the purpose of, you know, washing said laundry. And it makes my space more chaotic and serves as a constant, visual reminder that I am not getting’ shit done. If I even wait for load #2 to come out, ostensibly so I can fold everything and put like items away at the same time, I am more likely to let it lie. So laundry will be put away as soon as it is done in the dryer. And you, laundry on the drying rack, you’re NEXT, so don’t get too comfy hanging there.

3.     Do dishes before bed every night – I was going to say “do dishes as soon as you’re done with them,” but I think this is where I can cut myself some slack yet still serve the greater purpose of cutting down on chaos in my life.  Plus, this compromise will make the next item on the list easier and more likely to succeed.

4.     Cut up and cook veggies within 24 hours of getting them at the grocery store – I hate hate HATE when I buy some veggies and they go bad (I hate when anything goes bad from my not getting to use it in time, but rotted veggies in particular really irk me). It’s like a squishy, tangible reminder that I am not eating the way I should. So if I cook the veggies within a day of getting them, they won’t go bad and they will be ready to go when I want to use them.

5.     Eat “whole” until Valentine’s Day (except when I am dining out or ordering in or if there’s a special occasion- like tonight) – This is going to be one of the ‘toughies,’ which is why I am only setting a six-week timeline for doing it. To me, eating whole means as few processed foods, and as little sugar, bread, pasta, rice, and dairy products as possible. No, I have not lost my mind and gone whole-hog Paleo (see what I did there? Whole hog…er, never mind) or suddenly been taken over by the anti-gluten Pod People. I just have found that when I eat fresh fruits and vegetables, lean meats and poultry, and use olive oil for my fat – I feel better. And I enjoy the opportunities I get to not eat this way even more (you have no idea how good cake or cookies taste when you haven’t had them in a while. Seriously. Ironically, I have never been a big dessert person, but when you don’t have it for an extended period of time, holy sweet treat does it taste good!)

6.     Drink more water- This one isn’t really that hard. I actually have come to like water, and I almost never drink soda and I don’t really like any juice but pineapple. The only other thing I drink regularly is iced coffee, and the way I make it – it’s mostly water. But I know that I can drink more water, so I am going to resolve to do that- but not set any specific amounts, because I know that I will just kick myself when I don’t meet that specific number.

7.     Write every day- This is THE HARDEST one. I am going to break my own rule and make this a yearlong goal. Write every single solitary day, regardless of what is going on. I may not post everything I write, or I may not be able to post it every day (hey, there will be times when I won’t have internet access when I am driving cross country for the big move), but I will type out something all 365 days of 2013. I have a computer, a tablet and a smart phone  (not to mention the option of going old school and using, you know, a paper and pen) – there simply is no excuse. And I would like to think that by writing every day, I will become a better writer. Oh, and writing for my job(s) totally counts – but posting on Facebook or Tweeting does not. Sorry, Charlie.

8.     Read every day- Another toughie. I love to read; I always have. But for some reason, over the last few years, I have gotten out of the habit of reading and it bothers the crap out of me. I don’t mean reading news stories or following links on FB; I mean reading for pleasure. And I am guilty of being a HUGE hypocrite in that I nag Max all the time about his lack of reading – and then set a totally shitty example for him. So, money where my mouth is- I am going to read for pleasure every day. Not going to set a time limit (what?! I’m not in elementary school!), though- like with the water, I know myself well enough to know that not meeting some arbitrarily-set number goal will just undermine my overall success.

9.     No more baby birds with broken wings – Fixer-uppers. Done. That goes for dates and mates (I use this in the Australian way, not in the ‘stuck with you for life’ way). We are all works in progress, we are all flawed and we all have our own burdens and issues with which we deal. I will support you while you deal with yours, lover or friend, but I am going to stop feeling like I have to somehow fix you or make it better. If, by some bizarre act of G’d or bite by a radioactive spider, I acquire my desired super power of being able to make others feel better simply with my touch, I may drop this one. But barring that, it is time for me to stop looking at others’ potential and start seeing them for who they really are.

10.  This Space Reserved- I may want to come up with another resolution or two, so I am holding this spot for that possibility.

So, today – December 31^st, I have already accomplished #s 1, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7 and I’m about to go do #2 (snicker  -yes, I am twelve) and #8 will be accomplished while the dessert I am going to enjoy tonight is baking. Happy, happy New Year to all of you, and may your 2013 be everything you want it to be and everything you can make it.