Seasons of Love

How do you measure a year?

Rent, the stage musical as well as the movie version, has shaped a lot of my beliefs around living and what it means to exist. (Given my liberal arts education, I can of course look back and see the problematic aspects of the storyline, but for the sake of argument, let's set those aside for now.)

One of the most famous songs from the musical, as well as in general as a Broadway tune, is "Seasons of Love" (or you may recognize it by the chorus, "525,600 minutes/525,000 moments so dear/525,600 minutes/How do you measure, measure a year"). Here's the movie version if you want to check that out.

I've been reflecting on that idea a lot lately, especially since I have begun documenting and essentially scrapbooking my life in my journals and planners. And as December 24, 9pm, Eastern Standard time approaches (Rent reference), I thought I'd reflect back on what made up my year of 2018.

Joining the Health Club

New Election Cycle, New Me

You've probably heard of new year's resolutions. You know, the time of the year you are definitely going to lose 20 pounds, go to the gym, wake up early, and cook a three course meal every night? Yeah, that idea. Well, I'm starting some now, on a Tuesday in November.

Tragedy Overload

Saturday I woke up to breaking news of another mass shooting. Barely a day has gone by since the pipe bomb suspect was arrested and now we have something else. My heart broke as I clicked the news video, and it sank deep into my chest as I learned, in horror, that this one was targeted at a synagogue.

Something in me broke.

Something I had been pushing around for some time now, a sense of doom and hopelessness and sadness. This morning, I felt it. The utter sense of sorrow, of grief, of acceptance of tragedy. The point I realize I cannot leave, I am not immigrating to Europe, this is real and this is my life now. This is our American reality.

Each time something happens, I tell myself I am done. I will fight this. I will vote. I will protest. I will move far away from this dystopian reality. But this morning, as 8 souls were snatched from this world and hundreds of lives forever changed, I just sank.

I checked my Facebook obsessively. I shared a post, I followed the breaking news. My feed was filled with Jewish friends and family sharing outrage and non-Jewish friends expressing fear and sadness.

I didn't know if I could take it anymore. So I stopped.

I turned it off. I clicked away. I put mu phone on silent and my media on pause, just for a minute. And you know what? It was okay.

I made myself some iced tea. I changed my sheets. I tidied my floor. I cast on a new knitting project. And it felt alright.

No, it didn't solve anything. The news was still there when I got back, and the hurt and the pain came rushing back. But that afternoon, I needed some time to shut off before I shut down.

What We Talk About When We talk About Mental Illness

Roseanne, Kanye, and Mental Health Awareness Week

Photo Credit: What I Be Project by Steve Rosenfield

October 7-13 was mental health awareness week, with NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) starting a CureStigma campaign. You may have seen posts on social media of friends or acquaintances posting about their struggles or their allyship/offers of support. If you hadn't seen or heard, I don't blame you-- I had to google it prior to this post. I had heard the term "mental health awareness week/day/month" floating around, and I figured now was as good a time as any to share my personal thoughts.

In addition to NAMI, the constant news cycle reminds us of how prevalent and even marketable serious mental illness is. Kanye West, for example, was recently at the white house, rambling about our country's problems, his solutions, men, male energy, alternate realities, the 13th amendment, and more. He mentioned the Unabomber and prison and bipolar disorder. In general, it was an extremely disjointed and fantastical discussion. (If you are interested, here is the full transcript)

Roseanne Barr, an up and coming (and subsequently fallen) reboot star was recently on the Joe Rogan podcast. She discussed her infamous tweet, her personal history with serious mental illness and psychiatric hospitalization, and the fallout from her drugged out post. I have not finished the full episode yet (it's a two hour podcast), but it is available here if you are interested.

This is a lot to dig through. This is a representation of not only our attention seeking culture, which values the extreme, but also is subsequently a version of how we understand mental illness, specifically psychosis or other dissociated forms of reality. 

To be fair, it could be worse-- at least we're not talking about mental illness because someone with a firearm took that constitutionally protected firearm and used it to murder innocent people. And at least these people in the spotlight are successful in some regards. They are creative geniuses despite their demons. There are so many angles to approach this question of celebrity culture and mental illness.

What is a self described mental health advocate to do?

Finding my Path

Withdrawing from my CGU Master's Program

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out. 

This is a tough post to write. This is the post where I will be talking about my choice to withdraw from my graduate program at Claremont Graduate University, a highly competitive and intense masters track for Positive Developmental Psychology. This is not easy to admit, and yet for some reason I still am writing it. Because there is power and truth in personal vulnerability.

Living for the Future

Graduate School Anxiety and Overall Stress

As you may have heard, I am starting graduate school at Claremont Graduate University in Positive Developmental Psychology. I am pursuing my masters at the moment, with hopes that perhaps I would continue on to get my doctorate. And it's time I admit something: I am scared. I am terrified. I am overwhelmed. I am vulnerable.

Starbucks Routine

Enjoying a drink during a long hot day of touring London

For those of you who have not heard, I will be attending Claremont Graduate University, pursuing a masters in positive developmental psychology. (I have a blog post about it, if you are interested in reading more.) I moved back down to Claremont a couple weeks ago, about a month ahead of classes starting, in order to settle in to my new place and get my routines set prior to the stress of my new graduate program.

It's been about two weeks, and I'll be honest: it's lonely. Not in any terrible way, but at night, when it gets dark and all I have for company is my kindle and my knitting, it's lonely. 

But I'm finding ways to make it work-- ways that include my favorite morning blended ice drinks at the nearby Starbucks.

Speaking Up, Speaking Out

My journey of de-stigmitization

Dedicated to my inspiring sister, Shayna

For my younger sister's high school senior project, she decided to record and present stories of mental illness in an attempt to further de-stigmatize our community discussion around mental illness. I could not be prouder or more impressed by her final project and presentation, in which she also spoke of her personal struggles with chronic anxiety and the pain she suffered watching me suffer all those years ago.

Shayna spoke of the pain she held onto as she was forced to stay silent, hold in this family secret of how badly I was doing. We told no one of my diagnosis, out of fear of judgement and isolation. Shayna had to spend long hours in the waiting room of doctor's offices, alone and lonely, holding so many secrets and the stigma and forced to grow up before she even hit puberty.

Reflections on American Democracy

"SHOW ME WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!" a middle aged woman of color shouts to the hundred or so students, parents, teachers, and children standing at the base of the capitol building in Sacramento, CA.

It is April 10, 2016, months before Trump's election. Months before the country turned from the years of the first black president to to the years of bashing the elite, electing the infamous outsider and claiming he would speak for the forgotten men and women. 

This was back when I was a I was still a sophomore in college, attending the ACLU conference as a part of the Pitzer in Ontario academic field learning program. We had driven up in a large charter bus from southern California, forming study groups with names like "The Justice League". This was a weekend of Thai food and cafeteria sandwiches, of workshops and dancing and lobbying senator (...'s assistants). 

I decided I couldn't be a politician, because the meetings looked long and mundane and I couldn't see a single person knitting in that whole auditorium of senators and congress people. I thought maybe I could get into political advocacy; after all, I was skilled at writing and research, and I wanted to make a difference. Visiting the state capitol, hearing bills being passed on a tiny fuzzy television projection of the auditorium, I had hope. I had dreams. I had plans.

Quality of Life Planner

How the Erin Condren Life Planner Helps me Enjoy Life

In a recent post, I talked about how using a bullet journal helped me to become more flexible, less frustrated, and overall more creative and open-minded. In this post, I will be continuing the series, and talking about how using the Erin Condren Life Planner helps to enhance my happiness and quality of life.

This post is not sponsored in any way, all opinions and ideas are my own. However, it is dedicated to my Nonny and Poppy (my mom's parents), who gifted me this wonderful planner for my birthday this past March.