I'm Not Speaking to Winter

Here is a recent picture that I took of Ginger. I took it with my iPad when I was in bed. That's where I've been spending a lot of my time lately. In fact, I'm in bed right now. It could either be the fact that I have the best flannel sheets around, or that I'm in the throes of my yearly bout of seasonal affective disorder. 

You might remember me mentioning my SAD in a post I wrote this summer about Robin Williams. And of course, on a warm, beautiful summer day, it's easy to write about winter depression. That's when I'm like, Yeah, I remember what that feels like. But this winter is going to be different! But now that it's January, I'm reminded of how totally sucky it really is. 

There are a few things that are getting me through these dreary months. 

1. My hubby, my family, the friends who know the ins and outs of what I refer to as "my stuff." And my two furry buddies who share the bed with me, Ginger and Coco.

2. My work. Depression does this thing to the brain where it just doesn't process things correctly, but writing seems to cut through that fog. The house is less-than-organized and I've barely seen the other side of my block in over a month, but I'm staying on top of my workload and deadlines. Yay me. 

3. Humor. I'm always fascinated these days when I actually manage a decent pun or funny quip. My brain is still able to find hilarity even when things aren't awesome. A few minutes ago, I asked BJ to pick up some milk on the way home. He asked, "Anything else?" And without missing a beat, I said, "A new brain, if they have it in stock." 

I've decided to talk openly about my winter blues on here because I want depression to not be hidden under stigma - I want it to be a topic of normal conversation. "Hey, I like your shoes. By the way, I have depression." 

It is what it is. January blows, February is slightly better, and March is when everything starts to lift. Until then, you'll occasionally see me dragging myself to the gym, looking zombie-like out at dinner, or looking longingly at a cloud-filled sky. 

Since I can't relocate to Tahiti at the current time, these things I found on Pinterest have managed to lift my spirits, even inspiring a chortle here and there. Enjoy. 

ME

 

ME

ALSO ME

I Don't Get Your Deal, November.

I've recently decided that November is my least favorite month. See, I like months that are exactly as you'd picture them in your head. For example, October guarantees gourds on front doorsteps and brightly-colored leaves. July will be hot, sunny, and perfectly summery. November, on the other hand, is a crapshoot. November needs to decide what it is and stick to it.

November in my mind usually goes something like this: newly-fallen leaves tinged with a hint of frost, perfect cool temperatures for running, and an occasional turkey decoration on someone's house.

Instead, here in Madison, it's winter. Not like, "Oh, look at those first little flakes of snow." I'm talking four inches of white stuff on the ground. It's currently 16 degrees outside. I'm the only one who has "harvest" decorations on her front porch. The rest of the neighborhood is already bedazzled in Christmas lights and friendly snowmen. And I always forget how dark it is this time of year. Anyone with me on overturning daylight savings time?

Even though I am frustrated with November's identity crisis, I made the most of things this past weekend when I visited Lake Geneva, Wis., a hop, skip, and a jump from where I grew up. I think the pictures I took illustrate the current state of affairs—a post-tourist landscape stuck between fall and winter. My advice to November? Do some soul-searching and figure out who you are.

OK, I'm done with my rant now. Here are some pretty pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandmom

Nine years ago today, my grandma (whom I referred to from a very young age as "Grandmom") passed away. Fairly unexpectedly and way too early. It's always a tough day on me and my family, and my mom and aunt have shared beautiful tributes on Facebook.

My instinct is to be sad, and it would be natural, but I'm going to use this blog post to go in a different direction: a list of 20 things I liked best about her. Here goes...*

*Disclaimer: I realize that my last post was about Robin Williams. I promise that I won't always be writing about things that may make you want to cry, call someone you care about, and eat chocolate (simultaneously).

1. Her "Yellow Bag." It was a bag where she kept toys, treats, and goodies for me, and there were always new things in it every time I visited.

2. Spaghetti and meatballs, pork chops, and Italian sausage...lovingly called "barnyard spaghetti." She would get a kick out of the fact that I'm a vegetarian now.

3. Her Uncle Sam collection

4. On Thanksgiving, when I walked in the house, I felt like I was walking into an issue of Martha Stewart Living.

5. When I was about five or so, I had a Cabbage Patch doll named Emmy. And when we would go on vacation, Grandmom would "babysit" Emmy. She would even show me the empty jars of baby food when we came home.

6. She'd listen to me talk for hours about school, friends, and things I liked. She made me feel as if I was the most fascinating person in the world.

7. Oh, and another thing about Thanksgiving. She would make me my own special pumpkin pie (one without cream cheese, which I didn't love).

8. And that word, "special." That was her word for me. She always found cards that said "special" somewhere and underlined it.

9. Her laugh

10. On holidays, Papa would try to make me eat "weird foods" (i.e. liver and onions). Grandmom would say, "Oh, Ross, leave her alone."

11. During my first year at Ripon College, she would send me cookies, cards, and other little things.

12. She was the best gift-opener in history. I'm sure that many a time, she received a less-than-desirable gift. But her reaction made it seem as if it was the best gift she had ever gotten.

13. She was constantly on the lookout for things that had my name on them, like pencils and ornaments. She knew those items were rare since my name isn't a common one.

14. At every one of my events, from basketball games to academic awards nights to school plays, she was there.

15. Speaking of basketball, she loved the Bulls, particularly Michael Jordan. She never missed a game when he played.

16. The red "You Are Special Today" plate she put out for the birthday boy or girl.

17. Her larger-than-life personality, complete with blue eyeshadow (hey, it was the 80's) to her fiery red hair.

18. She always knew just what to say. A favorite quote of hers was "This too shall pass."

19. The sights, smells, and sounds of her "Nice Things" gift shop.

20. The fact that Grandmom had a knack for making every human being she came into contact with feel important and worthwhile.

To sum up, she was just pure awesomeness.

Robin Williams

I don't consider my blog to be a place where I share things that will inevitably bring people down or to get on my soapbox, but today, I just can't stay quiet.

Robin Williams died yesterday. He had a creative mind that I always admired. It's not everyone who can seamlessly transition between a housekeeper in drag, a psychologist, and Peter Pan. He couldn't help but let his talent spill out upon whatever project he worked on.

I saw a discussion in one of my LinkedIn groups this afternoon in which the person asked for people to share their thoughts on Robin Williams' death. It opened with, "What happens when celebrities lose their way and think death is the only answer to their problems?"

No one can claim to know the inner workings of anyone's mind, but this person failed to mention something. Yes, he was a celebrity. But he was also just another person wrestling with depression.

Depression is of course a negative force that encompasses one's life. But it's also clever as hell. It's the chemical equivalent of the bully who tries to pressure you to do the exact thing you don't want to do. It seeks out your most vulnerable spots, and almost always succeeds. And if it commands something, at the time it makes perfect sense to your exhausted, weary mind.

How do I know this? I've had my own taste of it.

Every winter, I grapple with Seasonal Affective Disorder. While some people may refer to it as the "winter blues," it's much more than that. It's like a wet, heavy blanket that covers you from head to toe and no matter what you do, you can't pull it off. Every bad thing you've ever believed about yourself rushes to the forefront of your mind. The darkness outside often matches your insides.

And that's just three months a year. My heart goes out to people who face it every day of their lives. You are tougher than you know.

I've never come close to the moment of desperation Robin Williams must have reached, but at the same time, I can understand it. Like I said, in that moment, to a depressed person the thought seems reasonable. Your brain isn't firing the synapses correctly, and you take the form of another human being entirely. The fight goes out in you and you simply give in.

Depression is an incredibly stigmatized health condition. It's fine to discuss diabetes, heart disease, and osteoporosis ad nauseum, but bring up depression, and the room will bristle. I read a statistic today that 5 - 9% of Americans have depression. I believe that number is higher, but only the brave ones are reporting correctly.

If anything good comes out of Robin Williams' passing, I hope that depression is pushed out of its hiding place and into the light. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Let's bring it out into the open.

Summer

Summer is a fleeting time for anyone, but for me, the girl who could live year-round in a never-ending summer, the time tends to pass even faster in my mind. But this is the first summer in quite a while that I have had the luxury to take many delicious pauses and drink it in.

I haven't had a proper summer since I joined the workforce. Now that I've been freelancing for a few months, I've discovered that a cubicle just wasn't for me. Especially on warm, sunny days, when I would longingly look out the window like a child who just wanted to go outside and play.

And so I open my office window while I work to feel the balmy breezes and listen to the chirping birds. I take Ginger for walks in the middle of the day. I go for a mid-afternoon run on a local trail. Instead of living in a perpetual state of stress, even on weekends, I simply sit back and enjoy Saturdays.

There have always been summer bonfires, firefly-watching, strawberry picking, and boating on the lake, but this summer, I'm finally able to take a breath and soak up every moment.

10 Awesome Things About Being a Freelance Writer

I'm officially three months in to my new career as a full-time freelancer. And I've quickly discovered that the freelance life is chock full of awesomeness. Here are 10 things that are truly great about being a freelancer.

1. At the moment, I'm sitting in Michaelangelo's Coffee House while James Taylor plays in the background and the soothing whir of conversation surrounds me. I love that I can pick up my job and take it anywhere. Excuse me, I'm just booking a ticket to Bora Bora so I can work in one of those little beach huts...

Flickr.com

2. I can eat totally non-conventional meals in the comfort of my home. Cheerios for lunch? Don't mind if I do!

Flickr.com

3. My cute/ridiculous/hilarious T-shirt wardrobe is getting a lot more play.

Flickr.com

4. Ugh, holy migraine. I can use all of my headache-relief paraphernalia now. Peppermint pulse point oil. Microwaveable neck wrap. A giant mug of tea.

Flickr.com

5. I can play my music without any judgement. What am I in the mood for today? Fleetwood Mac? Glenn Miller? Bjork?

Flickr.com

6. My Keurig has sure gotten a lot more use. It's a universal requirement that writers must drink coffee.

Flickr.com

7. Having a corgi and/or a kitty laying at my feet while I work doesn't suck.

Flickr.com

 8. I don't freeze to death nor do I overheat. I control the temperature. Next, the world.

Flickr.com

9. I work out in the morning or over lunch. Gone are the days of dragging my ass to an evening class or forcing myself out the door for a run.

Flickr.com

 10. I'm back to using all of my (slightly-embarrassing) writers' block busters. They often involve dancing.

Flickr.com

 There will be more lists of awesome things about freelancing to come. Stay tuned!

Bullies

You know the scene. Gym class. Someone is picked last and is subsequently laughed at for the rest of the game. School picture day. A girl is teased mercilessly for her ensemble choice. Orchestra practice. The boys behind you kick your chair every time you squeak out a wrong note.

Childhood bullying is not a new topic. Thankfully, many enlightened schools are taking action against bullying and seeking out the kids who are the catalysts. What isn't discussed nearly enough is being bullied as an adult.

As a child, your foes are clear...kids in your school or neighborhood who have a goal to make your day a little worse. As an adult, bullies go from a black-and-white landscape to one that is murky and full of gray areas. Welcome to the world of passive aggression.

The one thing I'll give props to childhood bullies for: they are straightforward and honest. To a fault, yes, but there's no dancing around or thinly-veiled slights.

In fact, I'll venture to say that adult bullies are just childhood bullies who have upped their game. They've been around. Learned the ropes. Perfected their craft.

If Susie turned girls away from the "popular" lunch table, chances are she'll leave you out of a meeting.

If Tommy beat up kids who were weaker than him, you might find him in the weight room at the gym, snickering with his buddies and pointing at an overweight guy doing bicep curls.

Yes, bullies can gain strength as they advance in years. And that sucks. Many adult "bully victims" suffer silently. Maybe I'm just imagining things. I'm being too sensitive. I'll just stay quiet so I don't rock the boat.

So, I'm going to turn this around and point out something that's awesome. The bullies may be craftier, but you, my friend, have only gained strength and courage over the years. You can thank those bullies for giving you a tougher skin.

As someone who has survived her fair share of both childhood and adult bullying, I'm here to tell you that those experiences have forced me to climb the ladder of enlightenment, and it's a good place to be.

I've reached a point in my life in which I can say, "Let them be bullies. I'm going to keep on being awesome." Life is so much better when you're not constantly looking over your shoulder.

In closing, to all those adults out there who inwardly resemble an insecure, chubby, or "different" kid, do whatever makes you feel happy, bullies be damned. Let them belittle others to build up their own crumbling self-esteem. Let them be close-minded. You have shit to do. And it doesn't involve them.

Seven-year-old me

To feel even awesomer about yourself, visit my "for realsies" Pinterest board.