The quiet

There are so many ups and downs to depression. I've been making a point not to write when I'm feeling very down. I don't like to dump negative energy out into the world. We don't need anymore of that! But this really translates into not writing much of anything at all. Or writing entries and then deleting them before they get published.

I have been dealing with a really strong episode lately. I suppose that's what it is, clinically, an episode. I think the biggest red flag that went up is my need for 10+ hours of sleep. I wake up periodically during the night, sometimes early in the morning and can't get back to sleep. Then I go back to sleep eventually, wake up feeling groggy, then usually have to nap during the day. If you counted up the hours I'd probably average about 12 or so. I used to be able to get up and get moving around and wake up better that way, but this tiredness continues during the day. Today I had to go home and skip my afternoon class because I simply couldn't stay awake. I came home and slept for 2 hours despite getting 9 hours of sleep last night.

Inside, I feel quiet. It's not the calm quiet that you strive for in yoga. I just feel blank.

Things got so bad last month I had to go back to my doctor. That was really the only thing I could do. So I've been taking a new medication called Cymbalta. It's expensive, but I guess it's worth a try. Today is perhaps the worst day I've had in a month so maybe that's progress.

I was mixed about going back on it, but it got to the point where it became clear that it was necessary. My husband supported me and told me it was okay.

I don't know how I feel about being on medication for the rest of my life. I don't know what happens when I want to have children or need to breastfeed. I'm not sure if this means I'm never going to be able to function without it. Maybe things will balance out later in life. I'm not really sure.

But, anyway, that's where I am lately, in all honesty.

Jolie Holland Show... disappointing...

Last night I went to the Jolie Holland concert at Stubbs BBQ in Austin.

Weird. You know, I generally love any show that I go to. I'm pretty excited about music in general. But this show was just... I don't know. Jolie Holland does not smile. Maybe she cracked one or two, but the whole stage energy was so...blasé.

I also now know why they have a "back stage." At the show, the artists didn't really have a place to go, so they were just in the room with us. Whenever I made eye contact with Jolie Holland, which was inevitable because I would turn around and she was standing right there, she'd make this awkward death stare.

Here's some footage of a show from Paste Magazine. Note the lack of smiling... She seems almost annoyed to be singing.

Which was really unfortunate because prior to this concert I really adored her music. But being there made me just like she didn't want me to adore her music.

But maybe it's my fault. In her defense, she does make melancholy, moody music. So I guess it makes sense she's a melancholy, moody person. And it came across that she must feel very uncomfortable in front of a crowd. But, still, kind of sucks to be in her audience. While I continue to love her songs, I doubt I'll ever go to one of her shows again.

On a positive note, Matt Bauer, her opener, was much more charismatic and enjoyable to watch. It was him and his banjo and a couple of quiet songs that made me smile and reminded me of the mountains of home.

Nothing's gonna stop me from floating

My all-time favorite, life-changing, inspiring and earth-shattering album is Tori Amos's Boys for Pele.

I was 13 years old, in 7th grade. I dissected her lyrics like poetry. If I didn't understand something I looked it up on the internet. AOL, dial-up style. Guys, it was like 1998.

Can you imagine somebody playing this at middle school sleep overs? My friends thought I was on drugs. I wasn't. Needless to say they ditched me pretty quickly. Let's just say that I knew I was a poetry scholar for a long time.

Here are two versions of "Father Lucifer" one of my all time favorite songs. The first one is from 1996 and it's closer to the album version. The second has some back story and is a little more updated.





This is my all time favorite musical bridge:

nothing's gonna stop me from floating

everyday's my wedding day
though baby's still in his comatose state
I'll die my own Easter eggs
just don't go yet, just don’t go
and Beenie lost the sunset but that's OK | maybe she’s hiding in a hot dog
does Joe bring flowers to Marilyn's grave | got a pig hiding in a truffle
and girls that eat pizza and never gain weight | wearing those purple garters
never gain weight never gain weight | and girl I got a condo in Hoboken

This song is just hauntingly beautiful. It touches something inside me very deep down.

I just saw Tori in Austin last July. I had second row seats. I'm still speechless.

Obedience Class Day 1

Obedience classes have been a long time coming.

We were originally signed up to start in July, however, one week before the beginning of classes, when we thought Simon was going to have his last set of shots, the vet announced that his teeth were not nearly where they where supposed to be for his age and declared him 3-4 weeks younger than what they originally had thought when someone brought him and his brother into the shelter as a little stray pup.

So, we had to cancel our registration and shift it to the next session when he'd be old enough and fully vaccinated.

I adore my dog, but I will admit that he's high energy, bossy and badly behaved at times. I know that these things are 100% in my hands, so I don't blame him. Obedience classes are more about guiding me than guiding him... Dogs are eager to please their parents, they just need to know what they need to do to please you. And in July I was desperate to get into a class and get some guidance.

However, a major problem at the time was also that he wasn't fully vaccinated so he couldn't go outside for walks. Once we got into our new apartment without carpeting, got him a bigger house and started him on a walk schedule he transformed.

That doesn't mean he doesn't sprout the devil horns every now and then.

Anyway, I was shocked at how amazing he did at his first day of obedience class. For some reason I thought we'd be with a bunch of other puppies and new puppy parents, but boy was I wrong. They were some dogs there that were as old as 5 years old! And terribly behaved, a LOT worse than Simon. I suppose that the bar has been set high by my family members and their exceptional dog training skills. My family has a thing for big dogs, as well as for rehabilitating strays, and I just assumed that all dogs were so happy, balanced and well-behaved as my extended families.

But no. Simon wasn't the best dog there, but he was pretty darn close. I would command him to sit and he'd listen, holding it for minutes at a time, looking up at me with his darling little eyes, as if to say, "Is this right, mamma?" while the other dogs barked, roamed and pulled on their leashes. I kept saying things like, "Yes! My perfect little baby you are so good!" and I think the other people thought I was insane. No one else talked up the baby talk quite as much as I did, but then again, there were few puppies there and maybe it's a puppy thing.

I am crazily obsessed with my dog. I have to admit. I just want to be with him 24/7, when I have to spend the day at school I miss him so much, I look at his photos and wish I could call him.... but yeah... puppies don't use the phone.

One Year Pull-Free

Here I am. It has been one year since I embarked on this mission to become pull-free and regrow my thick head of hair.
Has it been a year? Yes. Is my hair completely grown in back to the way it used to be? Yes. Has it been easy? Yes and no. The more time that passes, though, the easier it becomes.
Have you sneaked a few? Yes. I think there have been maybe 3-5 hairs pulled in the past year. Does this negate being pull free? No. Sometimes they were accidents. Sometimes it was intentional. But I was able to move-on and pick up without slipping into a relapse of compulsive repetition.
Do I still feel the urge to pull? Yes. Do I still run my fingers through my hair? Yes.
Everyday I know that I'm walking a fine line, I know that any moment I can slip back into pulling. It's something that's always been there under the surface.

Recovering from Trichotillomania has taught me so much. I've learned discipline, self-acceptance, self-improvement. I've learned compassion. I feel this weird camaraderie with anyone who is trying to recover from any kind of compulsion or addiction, be it alcoholism, smoking, drugs, cutting, anorexia. I know how hard that path is, and I know how easy it is to fall off. First your left foot, then your right, I know the baby steps, I know what every day is worth when you're taking it one day at a time.

The best thing about recovery is that Trichotillomania no longer runs my life. I am no longer worried about people noticing or commenting on my thin hair. I vacuum up pet hair now, instead of my own. My arms don't hurt, my neck doesn't hurt, my teeth don't hurt. I had to relearn how to read, write and watch TV. The other day I couldn't believe how it amazing it felt to have both hands grasping my novel, attention focused completely on the text. I don't have to explain myself to my hair stylist, to family members. I can braid my hair again, I can swim.

Today I have no big celebrations. I actually almost forgot. And I love that, because Trichotillomania is no longer on the forefront of my mind. Now I just focus on my breath, on being present, on letting go.

And while you're always a part of me, I watch you fade farther and farther away.

New layout. Same concept.

More to come.