All Good Things

Halloooo, friends!

I'M BACK.

Kinda.

And I have all good things to share.



First and foremost, after nearly 3 weeks of waiting, my mammogram results came back clear. Woot woot!

Second, this break has been exactly what I needed: time to rest, recover, see a bunch of doctors, and all around focus on my health. I'm back in regular therapy, I've had some extra cronchy chiropractic adjustments, I saw a new hormone specialist, and I'm currently adjusting to a bunch of new pills and potions.

It's been a little rocky, but despite this week-long migraine and some continuing night-time panic, I'm feeling more like myself every day. John and I even went to MetroCon the weekend before last to do some filming, which was a blast, so I hope to have that video up for y'all soon. Thank you for being patient and sending all the good thoughts while I've been away. I'm still not 100%, so I can't guarantee regular posts again just yet, but please do watch this space. John and I've been working on some nifty projects and crafty builds that I can't wait to share with you, once I get back to writing-fit.

In fact I'd hoped to have something more exciting to share with this first post back, but since I've been struggling for nearly a week with these medication adjustments (sweet Stay Puft, migraines are exhausting), I hope this quick assurance that all is well is enough for now. I'm still here, I'm doing mostly OK, the cats and John are all good, and I'm looking forward to hanging with y'all again real soon.

Now, you go take care of yourselves, too, k? Meet ya back here later.

::MWAH::


P.S. Here's a video of me trying to ignore social media so I can get my mental health chill on:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Sam Angermann (@sam_angermann)

:D

Intimidation Crab & Other Survival Strategies

Content Warning: panic attacks

****

I know a lot of you left Facebook to ditch the drama - which I get, believe me - but posts like this from Daya over in FoE are often my little lifelines of sanity:

:D

The comments, of course, did not disappoint:

... and some days you just need this kind of silliness to combat, you know... ::gestures weakly at everything::

I don't have any news yet from my mammogram the other week, and as with most scary things, the waiting is the hardest part. Or at least, I hope the waiting is the hardest.

 I did the unhealthy thing, though: I tried to bottle up my anxiety, pretend everything was fine. Then the more I pretended, the more scared I got. Within a few days I was stuck in a panic loop, unable to think about anything but my own looming death, pain, and regrets. It was irrational, but also as real as my constantly sweating palms.

Anything mentionable is manageable. I love that lesson from Mr. Rogers and try to live by it, but I forgot it this time, beloved. Instead of mentioning it, instead of dragging my nasty little fear gremlin into the light, I hid it from John and my friends. I built walls around it. I guarded it. And so it grew.

It was only a few days before I fell apart. Blind panic, full body shakes, and finally, mercifully, a loud and messy confessional sobbed into John's shoulder. It was the scariest 24 hours I've had in years; I still feel the dread rippling forward from it now.

And yet, within an hour of pouring out my secret, I felt so much better. Talking about how scared I was made the fear gremlin shrink. Suddenly I remembered how treatable all these things we're testing for are, how it's good to check things early, and how unlikely it is that we'll find something doomsday-level in the first place. After so much certain despair, I felt a shaky ray of hope.

The next day, all heck broke loose again online.

As the internet exploded in a fresh wave of conflict, I had to go into survival mode. I know some of you are up for the fight, and others are like me: already panicked and broken even before this latest tipping point. So I thought I'd share 5 things I've been doing this week for my mental health. Maybe something here will help some of you who are barely hanging on, too.

Mammo-Mia! I Got My First Mammogram!

NOTE: There be bewbs ahead! Maybe save this one for after work.


*****

I don't know about you, fellow anxiety warriors, but for me any new body pain sends my brain sprinting towards Worse Case Scenario Valley. So of course when my left armpit and arm gave the slightest of aches the other week, it was RED ALERT ALL HANDS ON PANIC.

You might recall I have Thoracic Outlet Syndrome: a pinched nerve in the clavicle area that causes arm and hand numbness and pain. You might also remember my left arm is worse than my right. After months of treatment the numbness is mostly gone, but I still get occasional aches. So, logically, that is the likely culprit.

Does my panicky lizard brain appreciate logic, though?

Ooooof course not.

Adding to the freshly whipped panic smoothie was that we recently adjusted some of my hormone meds, so for the first time in ages, my tracts of land kinda hurt. I am not used to this. I do not like it.

I'd had a breast ultrasound last year, but never an actual mammogram. Like a lot of you with upper acreage, the idea of a mammogram scared the crap out of me. I'd heard the horror stories, and even watched my mom get the squeeze when I was a teenager. Mom has an insanely high pain tolerance, so she barely flinched, but seeing her boobs smashed that flat was traumatizing, ok?

Noooo, second-hand flashbacks...

That said, pain and panic are powerful motivators, and lucky for me a routine mammogram is one of the few medical things here in Orlando that doesn't have a months-long wait. Our imaging clinic had a spot for me in two days, and not only that, they had me in, scanned, and out in under 20 minutes.

Better still, I am relieved and delighted to report IT DIDN'T HURT, y'all. It really didn't! I was still waiting for the "real" pressure to start when the tech said we were done with the first scan. We did three compressions on each side (I assume because it was my first mammo) and each felt like a firm hug between plastic plates, no more, even on my already-tender poofs. I have a low pain tolerance, but I only felt a single uncomfortable pinch during one pass, which I think was more the top plate snagging too much chest skin than the actual squeeze.

Since then I've discovered the reason for my less painful experience may have been the machine. My clinic uses a 3D mammography machine, something not every lab has yet. Our moms had the older 2D machines, and if you remember a super smashy mammogram, it's possible that's what you had, too.

Both 2D and 3D machines look similar, but the 3D ones move in a half circle over you during the scan:

According to everything I'm seeing online these are superior to the 2D scans, with more angles and better imaging, less compressions, and fewer false-positives. They're also better for dense tissue, a plus since that runs in my family.

The older 2D machines are static, and do NOT move during the scan. So if you don't remember the machine moving on its own, then you had a 2D mammogram.

The Needs Of The One

Hiya! Happy Friday.

I bring you a photo of Vincent Price in his most iconic role:

Grumpy Cat Carrier.

:D

I also have a little encouragement for you.

Last week I was deep in my feels about the state of the world: that sad, helpless feeling you get when you watch the news and itch to DO SOMETHING, but what can one person do when so much is wrong?

Then I saw these Stories from one of my favorite internet peeps, Sharon McMahon.

I immediately screen-shotted those so I could read and re-read them. The main cause grieving my heart was the war, so I'd been donating, but now I asked myself, "If a Ukrainian refugee was here with me right now, what tangible thing would I do for them?"

"I'd paint their house," I thought. It's what I love to do, and it's what I'm skilled at.

"So who IS here right now, in need?"

The Three Best Things I've Done For My Mental Health In The Last Year

You know what I love? The concept of "leveling up" versus "getting older." Instead of focusing on the things we lose as we age - smooth skin, energy, the metabolism of a coked-up weasel - leveling up focuses on the things we gain. Things like skills, experience, and better armor for your body type.

When I was 20 the thought of making a healthy breakfast for myself every day was laughable, I had no idea why everything hurt all the time, and I believed everyone everywhere had to like me at all times or I might actually die. 

Now at level 43 I'm more comfortable with myself and others, I've had most of my broken parts diagnosed and treated, I feel a million times better, and I've learned hundreds of skills and coping techniques and routines that just make life better. Like how to make a healthy breakfast every day. It's awesome. Leveling up is awesome.

So in that spirit, I want to share three ways I've leveled up my mental health game this past year. I haven't mastered anything yet - and never expect to - but these are ways I can look back and see definite improvements.

1) Lean In To The Routine

This is obvious for most of my fellow mental health warriors, but it's gotta be said. Routine is our friend. Make lists. Set alarms. Schedule your week, your meals, maybe even your outfits if that helps. The less mental energy you spend making decisions, the more you'll have to tackle your day, your work, and the unexpected gremlins life chucks your way. So spend your precious, finite cache of mental energy wisely.

If this is a new strategy for you, let me recommend my post Routine Maintenance: 4 Ways I've Reduced My Daily Anxiety By Limiting My Choices.

And here are two tools from that post that help me stick to a routine:

- A pre-printed daily list:

(I erased all my strike-throughs so you can see my examples from yesterday.)

Note how the 2nd thing on my list is to make another list, ha. The things I do every day are printed, then I add day-specific tasks on the right. I've been using a dry-erase list like this most days for the last several years. I keep it next to me while I'm working, so every time I realize I'm mindlessly scrolling social media (which still happens a lot), I can check my list to get back on track.

Tuck your printed list into a page protector, and voila, instant dry-erase list! I also have an alternate list for Sundays on the back, so it's double-sided.

- My magnetic menu board

Magnetic Dry-Erase Menu Board w/ Neon Markers

I've raved about this thing enough before, so let me just say again that it is a massive sanity saver. If you do the "I don't know, what do you want to eat?" dance every night, try this. Since I last mentioned this menu board I've leveled up to making the menus myself each week, instead of making John decide. See? Still baby-stepping my way up!

2) Volunteer and/or Donate To Charities

John and I've always loved working on projects for friends, but this past year we've started volunteering at an actual charity, The Sharing Center. We started small, just a few hours a weekend sorting clothes for their thrift store. That was so fun we decided to go bigger, and over the last few months we've replaced ceiling tiles, painted entire offices, laid over 1,200 square feet of laminate flooring, replaced sinks, and more. It's harder work than we've ever done for friends, but also vastly more rewarding.

If you watch my Stories you might remember some of these updates.

How is busting our butts for free rewarding? Let me give you an example. Two week ago as John and I were painting the Client Services building - where they distribute food, rent money, and more - I watched an older woman knock on the door and beg for a loaf of bread. "Please," she said, "Just anything." The office was closed at the time, but the workers still opened the door and handed over a bag of groceries. I was across the room painting out of sight, but that moment struck me to my core, gang. I felt incredibly humbled and grateful and sad and joyful, all at the same time. At that moment, you couldn't have dragged me away from the work I was doing.

Today I'm Your John (Heyooo)

Last week I had a nagging pain in my left calf, a kind of pre-Charley Horse cramp deep in the muscle that kept me awake at night. I didn't think much of it, figuring it was from all the ladder work I've been doing at the rental. Then I woke up with a pain in my left jaw, an achey stiffness in the joint I've never had before, which also hung on for days and made me spill more than usual, since I couldn't get my mouth open all the way. And of course through all this I had my usual arm and hand numbness that’s been getting worse all year.

If any of that rings alarm bells for you, gold stars. You know some of the warning signs of a heart attack.

Spoiler alert: I did NOT have a heart attack. It doesn't get me at this time. Which I'm only explaining because you look nervous, and also because I want to make a Princess Bride reference.

;)

I didn't have a heart attack, but what I did have was a John. So when I woke up on the 3^rd or 4^th day complaining of leg and jaw pain on the left side and numbness in both arms and hands, he started making calls. I was questioned by a nurse over the phone, and after a few more calls, we were off to an urgent care center that performs ultrasounds.

For the record, I didn’t think anything was seriously wrong. Nothing hurt that much, and my anxiety was relatively in check, so I didn't even have chest pains. Still, when I looked at the tightly reined concern in John’s eyes, and when I put myself in his place, there was no question. If it took all day, I was going in to get checked out.

Thirty minutes later I was chatting with a huge bear of a doctor who looked like a Persian Santa Claus in a paper mask. Five minutes after that, Dr. Claus was personally walking me down the hall to the ultrasound, where a kind attendant assured me it was perfectly fine that I hadn’t shaved my legs in 3 days, and let me listen to the whooshing of blood in my leg veins. Better still, no clots.

I was just cleaning the ultrasound goo off my leg when Santa Bear was back, literally waiting at the door to walk us to another exam room for an EKG. It was the end of the day and we were the last ones there, but at no point did we feel like we were inconveniencing anyone or we were overreacting. And listen, if you have a panic disorder and tend to think every new pain means this is The End, then you know what a gift that is.

For the EKG I got to flash my sexiest full-coverage granny bra (in beige, uh thankyouverramuch) at an attractive twenty-something while he hooked up all the little sticky pads to my chest. I’ve never had to hold my shirt up that long for a stranger, so I didn’t really know the protocol on eye contact. I briefly considered – and rejected – asking for Mardi Gras beads. Finally I turned to John sitting in the chair behind me and joked, “Y'know, I’d’ve worn prettier underwear if I knew it'd be getting so much action today. Aheheheh.”

“Please try not to move,” said Attractive Twenty-Something, eyes on the monitor.

“Sorry,” I whispered wide-eyed, and attempted to sink through the exam table and under the earth while mentally making a note to burn all my beige bras and buy prettier underwear. Except these beige bras are comfy, dangit. They keep the armpit flab in check and don’t show up under tops the way black or white bras do. So maybe I’ll keep the beige ones, and just buy a few rainbow unicorn bras to mix in for medical emergencies. Except I can’t really predict a medical emergency - ergo the name. Otherwise it's more of a medical appointment. So really all I need is one rainbow unicorn bra to keep in the car that I can change into on the way... somehow. YES. Perfect. Glad we got that sorted. Also this will help explain things the next time John goes to get a napkin out of the glove box and a frilly unicorn bra falls out. 

::proceeds to lose the next 10 minutes shopping for "unicorn bra" on Amazon::

::(I didn't find any, but I did find a rhinestone bustier I want to wear under my t-shirt for my next EKG, because unexpectedly dazzling an attendent with rainbow sparkle boobs would be hee-LARIOUS.)::

As you may have guessed from my shopping side track, the EKG was fine. Well, I think it’s fine. For some reason whenever I get an EKG there's always a little something that shows up in the readout which the doctor will point out, circle, and then tell me not to worry about. Seriously. I’ve had 3 EKGs in my life, 3 charts with circled blips on them, and 3 docs saying I shouldn’t worry about this thing they just specifically pointed out and circled. Why. WHY. Did I not tell you I have a panic disorder, Doctor Santa Bear? Must you torture me this way?

Ahem.

In summation, friends, let me leave you with this encouragement: go and get the test. Get the thing checked. Even if it's probably nothing, even if it doesn't hurt that bad, and ESPECIALLY even if you're afraid you might be overreacting. Like you, I'm always worrying I'll seem "hysterical" or be dismissed out of hand, because sadly most of us women have had that experience, at least here in the U.S. HOWEVER. Today I'm your John, k? Today I'm looking you in the eye with care and concern and asking, "What's the worst that could happen if it's nothing? Now what's the worst that can happen if it's something, and you ignore it?"

I wish I could be there to (lovingly) shove you in the car and drive you myself, but since I can't do that, I'm hoping this boring story where nothing bad happens is a reassurance. I went in for relatively minor symptoms, but no one rolled their eyes or dismissed me. And even if they had, the peace of mind John and I got from a clean bill of health would have been worth it.

Let me add that I know medical care here in the U.S. is stupid expensive, even with insurance. It stinks, it's not right, and I totally get it if you're worried about the cost. Nothing I say will make that better, but here's what I do know: money is replaceable. You are not. If you suspect something life-threatenting, go.

Every time you do the Hard Thing and take care of yourself, know that I am so freaking proud of you. Then be sure to celebrate with chocolate or tacos or impulse buys or all of the above, because hard things are hard and you've earned it, dangit.

HIGH FIVE

Finally here's MY impulse buy, since I just want to show it off:

It's yet another giant silicone phone case, because I can't get enough of these dang things. :p

Love y'all, hope you've had a restful weekend. Now let's get out there, be weird, and have fun doing it.

Some Of You Tell Me This Helps, So Here Goes

Content Warning: Depression, self-harm. This is a doozy, y'all.

I'm really struggling with my mental health right now, and my natural tendency is to hide that. I figured I just wouldn't post for a little while, 'til I get my head right.

But yesterday in my latest batch of snail mail I got some Valentines saying what so many of you have told me over the years: That what helps the most out of all my pictures and stories and projects is my being real about the hard times. I've even had people say, "If Jen from Epbot struggles with self-hate and panic and depression, then I guess it's OK that I do, too." That is both humbling and mind-blowing to me, but I want to honor that, and honor you.

So now when I hit an especially low point, I try to take it as a sign that some of you are struggling, too. That you need someone to see you and drag this shared pain out into the light, where we can look at it and just acknowledge it together.

Deep breaths, love. Here goes.

You know I've hated my face for years, but these past weeks I've started hating myself. Me, the one inside. I feel pathetic, unworthy, unlovable, and hopelessly self-absorbed with problems I have no right to complain about. I can't control my sleep schedule, I eat too many sweets, I waste so much time thinking about all the time I waste. I ignore my friends, drift from my family, and create a burden for John. In my heart all I want is to help others, to be of use, but in practice I feel I'm a shattered, useless mess. 

Our Project:Epbot jobs are on hold, because more people we know caught Covid. Fortunately John & I tested negative after a close call, and our friends have since recovered, but that's been another reminder of the virtual wolf outside the door, and left us looking for a project to keep us - or at least me - going.

A week or two ago I foolishly stopped taking the thing that helps my depression, because I didn't feel depressed. (I swear that made sense at the time.) Then I started skipping meals and bingeing junk food, which made my gut feel awful. Then I stopped sleeping... or I slept way too much. I bounced from 13 hours to 3 and back again. Combined with my lack of projects and overall feeling of restless uselessness, it all just snowballed.

Last night I was so angry at myself, so filled with grief and disgust, that I snapped. I started hurting myself, and quickly reached a point so violent that - mercifully - it scared me out of the spiral. I sat there looking down that dark familiar road, the one that gave me bleeding scratches and scars back in my late teens, and I practiced my breathing and eventually managed to still my hands. But it was hard, y'all, because the pain felt right. Like control. Like justice.

If you're concerned reading this, you should be. My brain and emotions are lying to me, and after another 15 hours in bed today, I can see that. I've started taking my meds again, I'm backing off the sweets and trying to eat real food, and I'm letting myself just be while I watch funny shows with John. I'm seeing my therapist tomorrow. In the meantime I'm reminding myself this will get better, and I'm looking at all these sweet Valentines y'all have sent, which I've hung in my office. I'm giving myself permission to believe the things you wrote, even when they don't feel true:

That's my game plan. That's my road out of here.

What's yours?

There's no quick fix for this battle, but I can tell you I already feel much better, more clear-headed. It took every tool I've learned so far, though: identifying the lies, talking back to the accuser, breathing exercises, basic things like food and sleep, and trusting John to nudge me in the next right direction when I didn't trust myself.

This past year we've all been tossed into a raging sea, and even the strongest swimmers are getting tired. That's ok. Heck, that's to be expected. Isolation, fear, uncertainty, grief, we're all swimming in it. Some of us are drowning in it. And just like waves, we're going to have highs and lows. So hold on. If you're down here in the depths with me, trust that another wave is coming to lift us up again. It will get better. 'Til then let's gather up our tool kits, keep our support people close, make a plan, maybe say a prayer, and just keep fighting.

I will if you will. 

 

In fact, can we make that a pact? Leave me a comment, here or on FB, and say "I'm here, too" if you're in this battle with me. Let's show the ones feeling the most alone just how many of us are out here, still here, still hanging on, still fighting.

Also remember I love you, because I do. If I have to be this broken and raw in front of 10,000 strangers to convince even one of you that you are loved beyond your own imagining - by me and by so many others - then it will have been worth it.

Let's Get Serious About Celebrating Silly Stuff

Yesterday I did a little phone detox - I left my cellphone in the nightstand all day - and tried to embrace the silence and stillness when I wasn't working.

Then when that got too boring, I picked up a book.

It was a self-help book - too soon to say if I recommend it or not - and the first chapter was about the "discipline" of joy, a phrase that made my nose wrinkle. Twelve years of a panic disorder have taught me we can't make ourselves feel anything - not happy or calm or safe -  so I'm suspicious of things that seem to say otherwise. Emotions aren't a matter of sheer willpower, no matter how many times people tell you to "lighten up," "calm down," or "just be happy."

Fortunately that's not what the chapter was saying, though; instead it suggested adding more celebrations to our lives: scheduling things big or small that bring us joy, and then taking the time to really relish them. That's where the discipline comes in: instead of waiting around hoping to feel happy, you make a schedule of things that generally make you feel happy, and stick to it. Not just long-term celebrations to look forward to like holidays, but daily things. Little things. Like a music & dance break at noon, or a phone call with someone who lifts you up every Thursday night. It could be planning Disneybounds, a trip to Target, a game night with friends over Zoom, or making all your favorite meals for a week. The trick is to make them regularly scheduled.

This lines up with what what I've learned through CBT, or Cognitive Behavioral Theory. In one exercise I kept a "pleasure log" of everything I did in a day, from making breakfast to scrolling Instagram. As soon as I was done, I'd rate each activity by how much I enjoyed it, and/or how much satisfaction it gave me. When I tried this I found I didn't like watching TV and scrolling online as much as I thought I did - but on the flip side, I learned I enjoy everyday tasks like making breakfast and vacuuming a lot more than I expected. They don't make me jump for joy or do a chair dance, of course, but they do give little hits of satisfaction, that kind of "ahhhh" feeling you get from placing the last puzzle piece.

CBT taught me to prioritize these "high satisfaction" tasks, but it stopped short of suggesting regular celebrations. I like that word. Celebration. According to Google, a celebration is "marking one's pleasure at an important event by engaging in enjoyable activity." So basically, an excuse to do fun stuff.

Hmm.

What if we decided more things were an excuse to do fun stuff? Could we do that?

Back in 2015 my friend Tony spent the entire year celebrating a different holiday every day. He called it The Celebrate! Project, and would make signs saying "Happy Chocolate Brownie Day" or whatever and literally go stand in the middle of a highway with it. Not only that, he'd do something special to fit each holiday's theme, often bringing along different friends to celebrate with him.

At the time most of us thought Tony was pretty out there with this project, but I dare you to look at these pictures and not feel a big ol' spark of joy:

That 2020 Hangover Though

Real life will be intruding on today's post. If you've got enough of your own real life at the moment, best skip this one.

I've been sleeping all day again, and restless all night. Some of it is a little nerve damage in my neck and arms I'm struggling with, but mostly it's :;gestures vaguely:: all this. You know? I've lived and worked online for over 12 years now, and it's given me light, love, community - but lately my time there leaves me distracted, listless, vaguely anxious. Even with the political stuff here in the U.S. starting to cool, I'm just... unsettled.

It helps that my routine is getting back to normal; no more holiday breaks from therapy or weekly check-ins with friends. Those gaps over the past 2 weeks were vital missing jenga pieces in my tenous Keep It Together Tower, and largely why I posted so much here. I think I needed to check in with you bots as much as I hoped to be a little check-in for you. Plus, you know, fun Christmas stuff. :) (I still didn't fit it all in. Next year I've got to start sooner, ha.)

We're leaving the trees and decorations up a bit longer this month, because the twinkle of colorful lights makes the nights seem friendlier.

Covid is so bad here in Florida that we've had to stop the Project:Epbot job we've been working on. Even with all parties masked, our friends are so high-risk that they've had to lock down completely, which I understand and agree with, though it still makes me sad. I miss the work. I miss doing something tangibly helpful in this time of feeling so helpless.

On the other extreme, we have friends who've abandoned distancing and who we have to keep saying no to. We have John's high-risk mom who won't wear a mask, but who makes us feel terrible for not spending time with her. Everywhere we turn there's this tension of trying to love people the best way we can, weighing the risks, and sometimes risking relationships with the very people we're trying to do right by.

It's draining. 

And 10 hours of sleep just isn't filling me up.

My reaction to stress and conflict has always been the same: I retreat. I shut down. I get quiet to the point of going catatonic. I think I just have to hide for a while to recharge.

At the best of times I dislike phone conversations. I can't see your face, how am I supposed to know what you mean? How do I know you're listening? What if I can't hear you because the connection is bad but then you keep going so I can't ask you to repeat yourself and now I have to fake knowing what those missing words were and figure out some ambivalent response? Aaaaaarg. It's all so dang stressful.

So here I am writing this post instead of returning 4 phone calls from well-meaning monsters who love me but who also don't text. Heh. I don't want to talk, not out loud. I don't want to exchange pleasantries or fake the smile in my voice. But I also don't want to be real and tell them how much I'm struggling to find a reason to get dressed. I just want to sit here in my quiet, darkened living room, with the twinkly Christmas tree on, pick at the jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table, and not feel anything for a while.

Yep. I think I'll hide a little while longer. Try to heal up.

And hey, you there, still in your jammies, nodding your head in that "omigosh, ME, TOO" way: you're welcome to join me. We have Movie Night in two hours over on the Epbot Discord, and we're watching Ratatouille. (Or if you miss that, there's a second showing Sunday afternoon.) No talking or daytime clothes required; let's just watch a movie, post silly gifs, and heal up together.

I love you, by the way. Thank you for loving me. Thanks for being here when I post too much and when I don't post at all. Thanks for being there for each other. This community keeps me going even while I watch from the sidelines, and your posts and comments mean more than you'll ever know, to people you'll never meet.

Here's to sweet silence and soft twinkle lights and healing up from the scars of 2020.

Real Life Check In: Still Falling Apart, But With STYLE (& Flamingos)

Over breakfast yesterday afternoon I read a letter from one of you readers that got me right in the gut, in a good way. It reminded me how much we connect here over the hard stuff, and that it's been a while since we had a chat about Real Life and its accompanying Hard Stuff. 

I tend to get so caught up in my crafts and projects and photos that I leave out the messier things happening around here, which can be dangerous. That could make you think, "Hey, that Jen, she's got it all together!" Or worse, it could make me think you prefer this "more perfect" version of me, which ABSOLUTELY cannot stand. I'm a broken mess and proud of it, dangit.

So hey, let's catch up.

- First, a little bad: last week I had my first full-blown panic attack since March. I made it this long through a global Pandemic and the election - so what finally convinces me I'm about to die? Taking a test drive during rush hour. Arg. We got stuck in gridlock when I didn't have my emergency Xanax with me, which set off my agoraphobia. Plus the car we were test-driving smelled TERRIBLE and the seat wouldn't let me stretch out... basically a perfect storm of sensory overload and bad timing.

Our 11-year-old Kia broke down the other week, and we've been doing that whole "do we buy a newer car or fix the old one?" dance. (Ergo the test drive.) In the end we decided to keep our old car, so John's been working to fix it up, getting new tires, lights, widgets, gizmos, etc.

Quick Cat Break, because lookit that face:

And these faces:

D'awww. There's been an ongoing battle over this blanket, so the times they share are extra adorable.

Anyhoo, having a bad panic attack after you haven't had one in a long time is a valuable - though super sucky - reminder. It reminded me I can do all the right coping things: the belly breathing and rational thoughts and icing my hands and face - and still feel completely out of control, just free-falling off that terror cliff. It reminded me my mind and body can still betray me. Mostly, though, it reminded me how far I've come, and to never take the panic-free days for granted.

Here's a panic victory to offset that bit of yuckiness, though: on Monday I did the Big Scary Thing and went in for my first pap smear & exam in over 8 years. I'd been putting it off out of fear, since I had a traumatic exam roughly 10 years ago. (The doctor, who was later fired, performed an endometrial biopsy instead of a pap. I cried for 8 hours straight.) That fear convinced me to keep putting it off. I told myself it would be too hard to find a new doctor this year anyway, and if I did, they would only lecture me once I got there anyway. But you know what? I finally, FINALLY did it. And it went fine. The nurse was amazing, and the doctor was pretty nice, too - no scolding at all. The slight pain of the exam did trigger some terrible memories, but with a preemptive Xanax and John there beside me, I got through it. Booyah. Take THAT, panic monster. Take that, PTSD.

Hmm. I think we need a silly chaser after all that serious adulting stuff. 

And I have just the thing:

The Power Of Buttons & Goblets & Internet Friends

Two weeks ago I found myself in that the hazy, irrational kind of place where I'm convinced I can't let myself rest or watch TV or do fun things, because I haven't done "enough" yet. I don't know how much "enough" is, I just know I never reach it. 

I am working on this. I'm at the point in therapy where I can see some of the lies I'm telling myself, but not to the point where I don't still believe them. It's exhausting, seeing both sides, knowing your brain is sabotaging you, knowing that many of your core beliefs about yourself are wrong, but not being fully equipped yet to do much about it. 

I'm also wrestling with the guilt and helplessness of seeing so many jobless friends struggle. Everything from "How dare you be sad, you've got a roof over your head, don't you?" to "If you aren't doing something to tangibly FIX THIS for people right now then you are worthless." But how, brain? Should I write things to make people laugh, or write things to tell them they're not alone? Should I focus on jobs helping a few people In Real Life, or spend more time on blog posts that will be read by - and maybe help - so many more? What do I do, when is it enough, and how do I do it all without falling apart myself?

Which brings me to last Friday, when I did NOT want to join Movie Night over on Discord. I was tired and overwhelmed and just flat grumpy - but thank goodness, I showed up anyway. Because afterward, I felt so much better. I always forget that magical, transformative power of human connection. Even just connection through text on a screen. For over 2 hours I laughed and joked and interacted with other people online, and that simple act finally made my frazzled brain stop running laps, and take a little breather.

After the movie I felt just good enough to open the mail from our P.O. Box. I'd been putting it off because I knew there would be good things in there - the letters and packages from you readers are always good - and I thought I hadn't earned the right to see those good things. Kind of a mild self-punishment thing. (Am I the only one who does this? I mean, I do my share of weird stuff, but this one feels especially odd.)

The first package was from my friend Kristi in Canada. I've talked about her a lot here: she's a reader I met through Instagram who makes amazing props, and is the only person I know who's a bigger Labyrinth fan than me, ha. She also loves The Princess Bride as much (or more) than I do, and over the past several months I've been virtually cheering her on through her latest build.

Here, let's open the box together:

Oh yeah, I'm liking where this is going.

YASSSS.

Ready to see what's inside?

After Reading 2 Books On Perfectionism, Here Are My Top Fourteen Take-Aways

So hi, you. 

::floomphs down on couch::

How are things? How ya holding up?

John and I are still working offline jobs as often as we can, then balancing work here online and making time for a few fun projects, too. This could be just me, but lately it all feels... a little harder? Anyone else feeling that? Florida just lifted all their Covid restrictions, which had the curious effect of making some of our friends give up social distancing, and others return to total lockdown. John and I work for older and at-risk friends a lot, so we're more on the cautious side. Turning down invites is always awkward, though; no matter where you fall on the social-distancing scale, you still end up feeling judged, right? And that's hard on people-pleasers like me.

Anyway, there's your reminder to give friends & family a lot of grace right now, whether you agree with them or not. We're all just trying to live and love each other the best we can out here.

On a more positive note, the last few weeks I've read a couple of books on perfectionism: why it's bad, how it holds us back, and how to work around it. I also started CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) for the first time, since up 'til now my therapist has been using something called Attachment Theory. (Which has helped enormously, btw.) All of this has me learning some nifty new tools, and I'm kind of amazed how well the stuff I've learned about perfectionism goes with what I'm learning in CBT.

In fact, I've been so impressed that I thought I'd share my top take-aways from those two books: things I wrote down and have been trying to practice/absorb since.

First up, How To Be An Imperfectionist, by Stephen Guise

If you have Amazon Prime you can read this for free on your Kindle. Score!

Now I have to admit, I wasn't going to review this book at first, because the author got on my nerves. He's the usual self-help guru type, always bragging on himself and pitching his last book, and then he only uses illustrations about sports, how much he goes to the gym, or how many women he's asked out. Gah. By the last few chapters I was reading with gritted teeth, and at one point John walked in and burst out laughing at my expression.

BUT.

As much as I disliked reading it, this book really does have some great tips on beating perfectionism: things that made a positive difference for me as soon as the next day.

Harrumph.

So... FINE. 

Here's what I wrote down as I read:

- Emphasize the effort, not the results.
 
For this I've been reminding myself how much more you readers respond when I share my "failures" versus my successes - how the imperfect stuff brings us closer and sparks better conversations.

- When doing something difficult, don't look ahead. Focus on your very next step, and no further. Looking ahead will only overwhelm you and make you want to give up.

I feel this one a LOT. I loooove looking ahead and deciding The Thing is not worth The Effort. So I'm trying to tunnel-vision myself and only look at my feet, so to speak. One step at a time.

- We perfectionists must ignore our current circumstances - meaning how we feel - AND the possible result. Focus instead on the procedure.

Feelings lie. I already knew depression lies, but I'm learning ALL emotions can and do lie, so I can't trust myself when I "don't feel inspired" or "don't feel like" doing something. Most of the time motivation follows action, not the other way around.

- Replace "should" with "could."

Take away the self-condemnation. So when thinking about the past, replace "I should have gone to that party," with "I could have gone to that party." Or replace "I should get back to work now," with "I could get back to work now."

This one has made a noticeable shift in my thinking, y'all. It changes the whip into a hall pass, and makes me feel like I have a choice instead of an obligation. HIGHLY recommend.

- Confidence requires practice, because confidence is comfort. Practice taking up space and striking confident poses, then practice minor "embarrassing" things like wearing something silly or talking to strangers. Get comfortable being awkward, and you will feel more confident.

He cited a study that said people who struck a confident pose for just 2 minutes (hands on hips, head tall) increased their testosterone by 20%. So silly as this sounds, I've been practicing holding my arms out wide when I walk on the treadmill. I don't know what my testosterone thinks about this, but it feels... nice... to take up more space.

22 Years Of Not Being Perfect - But Being Enough

 I spent most of the past 3 days on the couch feeling uninspired and bingeing Youtube videos on how to organize your kitchen. I also ate a lot of non-dairy ice cream. Kind of my version of a bender. 

Anyway, one of those videos walloped me with something profound, and I'm so annoyed by how accurate this is I have to share. I don't remember which of the 50 videos I watched had this in it, but here's the gist:

Perfectionism is a form of fear.

Fear of not being good enough, smart enough - fear of just not being enough.

As a life-long perfectionist who's currently wrestling with many MANY fears, and yet who never equated those two things to each other, can I just say, "OUCH"?

Because ouch. 

Anyway, that's when John came in and found me crying into my Cherry Garcia over a pantry-organizing video. (Sometimes I like to imagine what John's Twitter account would look like if he had one. "Reasons My Wife Is Crying #217: We don't have separate bins for our pasta boxes... I think?")

We had a couple projects I was looking forward to cancel last week, so I got stuck thinking no one wants us to work for them because I'm not doing a good enough job. That I'm not helping enough, not handy enough, not writing enough posts or filming enough videos - just plain not enough. I know that's not true, but I have a hard time believing it's not true. It's exhausting, having a brain like this. Some of you have brains wired the same way, so you know. You've been here. Then we get frustrated at ourselves for feeling this way, but we're too tired to try any harder to not feel this way, right? (Tell me this isn't just me.)

Saturday was our 22nd wedding anniversary, and since I was down with a migraine, my brightest spot was sharing a few old wedding snapshots online. John loves my Story posts, so a lot of times I'm writing these just for him - and watching his face when he got to the two with his favorite songs was the best minute of my day.

 

For this one I had "Tightrope" playing - John's favorite song from Greatest Showman. (I think he might like "Thousand Years" from the Twilight movies even more, but I have to draw the line SOMEWHERE. :p)

Also I look startled there because John snuck up behind me when I was trying to take a selfie, ha.

Next our wedding song:

Routine Maintenance: 4 Ways I've Reduced My Daily Anxiety By Limiting My Choices

For some of you, life is a choose-your-own-adventure candy store: the more options, the better.

But for a lot of us - and especially those of us with anxiety or other mental health struggles - too many choices are not only overwhelming, they make us absolutely miserable.

I was reminded of this when a photographer I follow on Instagram talked about how he "cheats indecision" by wearing a simple green shirt every day. One less choice each day = less stress. (Here's his video, if you want to check it out.)

I hadn't thought about it in those terms, but I've found this approach helps IMMENSELY when you're overwhelmed or just short on mental energy. You know, like during a global pandemic. In fact, for the last year or more I've been consciously limiting my choices in most areas of my daily life, so I can save my energy for more important things. As I result I have less internal paralysis (we've all hit that wall where we can't make even the simplest decisions, right?) and more focus and time to give the rest of my day.

Want some examples? Suuuure you do. So here come 4 everyday decisions I've found to be the most draining, and how I've learned to side-step them to save my spoons.

First, let's start with the Big One, and my first successful experiment in limiting choices:

- What I Eat

Discovering the Low FODMAP diet was my first step down this path, since it automatically took a bunch of options off the table. For over a year I ate the exact same thing for breakfast: a microwave egg bowl from Aldi. Was it boring? Yes. Did it kill my soul some mornings to eat the same thing AGAIN? So much yes. But it also gave me something wonderful I'd never had before as an adult: a no-brainer way to start my day with adequate food that wouldn't hurt me later. No more staring wide-eyed into the fridge, no more asking myself, "What do I feel like eating?", no more starving myself until my blood sugar tanked because I "just can't deal with this right now" and then later inhaling a pack of stale crackers because it's too late to make "real" food. Suddenly I didn't have to think, I didn't have to decide, and I had something I didn't hate to get me through 'til lunch.

Today I still eat the same breakfast every day, though it's healthier and tastier since I've leveled up to making it myself: two scrambled eggs, fresh cut tomatoes, and a piece of toast. That's not to say I don't make exceptions, because an inflexible routine is just as stressful as NO routine. I still have microwave bowls for low-energy days, or occasionally I'll heat up leftovers. If I stand in front of the fridge for more than 5 seconds trying to decide, though, that's my cue to fall back on The Routine.

Lunch is my weak spot; I'm still figuring out how to best automate that. On bad days I still skip it because I can't decide, and then my blood sugar tanks and I lose the whole rest of the afternoon. Arg. But most days I either heat up leftovers from previous dinners, or John will make us a sandwich.

When it comes to dinner, I'm not being over-dramatic when I say this magnetic menu board I bought last January has changed my life.

Real Talk: How We're Doing In Florida's Lockdown, Plus John's Transformation

Yesterday I was reading how content creators shouldn't be carrying on like everything is normal, because that reads as phony and insincere. But on the other hand, as a reader myself, I know a lot of us are social media distancing to keep away from nonstop virus coverage.

I think it has to be a balance, which I'm still figuring out here on Epbot. My goal has always been to share uplifting fandom finds and help you escape for a while, but also to share when life gets messy and hard, so you remember we're here with you.

The truth is, John and I are doing really well right now in isolation. We're at about... 25 days in, I think? I definitely had some anxiety earlier on, but that was largely triggered when we thought a close friend had Covid, and I missed a therapy session that would have helped me talk it out. Our friend's test results took an excruciating 10 days - while she was still getting worse - and the waiting and watching the news sent me to a dark, panicky place of anger and helplessness.  Happily the test results finally came in negative, though - so she "only" has bad bronchitis - and that combined with my getting serious about avoiding the news and resuming weekly counseling via Zoom has left me in a much better, more stable place.

(I've been thinking of doing a roundup of all my favorite outfit photos so far this year. Yes? No?)

John and I tried taking evening walks around the neighborhood to get out of the house a little, but the pollen count is so bad that I was having painful allergic reactions afterward (earaches & sinus pain), even though I'm on Flonase, Zyrtec, AND neti-potting. Arg. At a loss for what else to do, I've resorting to staying inside 24/7 with the windows shut. I miss the fresh air, but my one ear was hurting pretty badly after each walk, and it's better now that I'm staying inside. (Any of you get allergy-related ear pain? What do you take?)

I feel perpetually behind on work, but that's normal; I always feel like that, ha. I'm also very aware of the pressure most of us feel to be doing ALL THE THINGS, as if we're somehow failing if we haven't mastered a new skill or reorganized the whole house yet. I'm trying to be gentle with myself, and let go of the days when I can't make myself do much. I keep reminding myself I still have a job, and it's enough if I keep both blogs running without any major meltdowns. Staying focused is SO HARD, though, now that nearly everyone I know is online and bored. Sweet Stay Puft, I thought the internet was distracting before.

 

I've started staying up all night, since there are less interruptions and distractions when most of the U.S. is asleep. I'm a night owl anyway, so I'm only shifting forward about 4 or 5 hours, heading to bed after I watch the sun rise. I've joked with friends that I'm living my best vampire life, since this is my one chance to live like time has no meaning. Because it doesn't! Seriously, that's kind of freeing, although I'm going to have one mean case of jet lag when the clock actually matters again.

The cats are doing great, and make our lives better every day. Each afternoon John lets them in one by one to climb up onto my chest in bed and get their "morning" snuggles. Usually it's Eva first, and then The Beast:

What's A Little Therapy Among Friends?

I wrote this post over 10 days ago, tinkered with it for a few days, and finally shelved it because I decided it was too controversial.

Then my friend Briana posted something that hit home with me. She wrote about how useless she feels right now: how she can't deliver food, or sew masks, or 3D print respirator pieces, and it's breaking her heart to just SIT HERE when she wants to help.

That drove me back to this post - because this is a way a lot of you in Briana's situation can help. And in fact when I wrote this I was thinking about Briana and a few other friends in particular: people who are both empathic by nature and really excellent at being engaged listeners.

This is still controversial. This may not be feasible for a lot of you. But you know what? I can't deliver food or sew masks or 3D print things either, so this is me offering what I have, in the hopes that it helps, even a little, even one person.

*****

I woke up this morning (OK, this afternoon) thinking about therapy. Not my own, not for me, but for you. For my friends, my family. See, over the past few months I've experienced the bewildering benefit of having a scheduled hour each week to talk through my panic with a professional therapist, and now I want everyone I love to have that. I want you to have that.

But we all know therapy is a luxury most people can't afford, especially here in the U.S.. I'm extremely aware of how fortunate I am in that regard. Having a single hour carved out each week for me to talk about what's on my mind has been incredibly grounding. It's freeing. It helps me take out all my fears, line them up in front of me, and give them a frank look-over. And when I do that, my fears lose their teeth. They shrink. To paraphrase Mr. Rogers, the unmentionable becomes mentionable, becomes manageable.

And now here we are, you and I, separate but united in the things we need and want. Because after our physical needs are met, what we all most want is to be safe, to be heard, and to be loved.

And here we are, as a global community, amazingly enough, with a lot of fears, a lot of restless boredom, and a lot more time on our hands. So many of us want to help, to leap into the fray, but since we have to self-isolate we don't know how.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Pinky?
 
What if - and bear with me on this, hear me out - what if we all became deputized... emergency... therapists. What if we started scheduling an hour a week with each other through FaceTime (or Zoom, etc) to give the most sacrificial and loving gift we have to offer: our time and loving attention.

Obviously this comes with a metric ton of caveats, and if you're already thinking through red flags and "But what about...?" - VALID. I am by no means suggesting any of us can replace licensed mental health professionals. However. I know most people - or at least most Americans - don't have access to therapy, and right now we're facing an anxious time when even the most stable among us are feeling shaken. I also know many of you have the incredible ability to be a good listener, and right now you could do so much good with that gift.

Here's what I'm thinking:

1) Pick a friend. Someone you've known a while, someone you love, someone you genuinely enjoy hearing from. Not that you just enjoy talking to, mind you, but hearing from. There's a difference. If that hasn't narrowed it down enough, also make sure this friend is someone who seems like they'd benefit from a weekly check-in.

2) Ask that friend to commit to a one hour conversation via FaceTime every week with you. Put it on your schedules. Treat that time as sacred, as a formal appointment. Lock up the pets, tell your family not to interrupt, the works.

3) During that time, focus on your friend. Make the conversation entirely about them. Ask how they're doing, what they did that day, what's weighing on them. Ask, then really listen. Keep asking and listening until the hour is up.

And that's it. Now do it again next week.

 

Quick cat break, because Eva insisted I show you her belly. She'd also like to know why you haven't given her a belly rub yet, because cats don't understand quarantines OR social boundaries.

So what's in this hour-a-week thing for you? Absolutely nothing. Only the knowledge that you are giving something life-giving and useful and loving. This is a sacrifice most people would never make... but if I know this community, then I bet some of you are willing to step up and be the loving exceptions.

If you have the emotional energy you could even make appointments for a few friends, spacing them out through the week. If you're the empathic sort who soaks up emotions to your detriment, though, then be careful. Don't take on the world. Remember you can't "fix" anyone. Choose who you focus on wisely and selectively, and only do this if you have a therapeutic outlet yourself.

Which brings me to:

My Two Best Tips For Thriving In Home Quarantine

Confession: it's kind of embarrassing how little my routine has changed this past week.

What HAS changed is how many of you are also suddenly at home full-time, figuring out how to lead happy, productive lives apart from other people. I'm seeing a lot of boredom, social media overload, and an overall sense of floundering in these foreign, solitary waters.

I've been a professional home-stayer for over a decade now, and while I do have to watch out for my agoraphobia to flare up, for the most part I've been an incredibly content, entertained, and dare-I-say productive social distancer. (You know, before it was cool. :p)

So as a self-proclaimed expert, let me offer two easy pieces of advice for you newbies. Both of these have to do with how you start your day, whether that's bright-and-early or overcast-and-midafternoon like me.

1) Get completely dressed before leaving your bedroom.

Pick out an outfit, do your hair, wear fun jewelry, and especially wear shoes if you can. (Shoes make a huge difference for me; bare feet signal my brain that it's Couch Time.) Most of the outfits you see me post on Instagram never leave the house; I wear them just for me. Picking out fun colors or a geeky t-shirt helps me start my day on a fun and creative note, and also makes me feel like I'm ready to get to work.

This quarantine is the perfect time to experiment with your wardrobe, btw. Try a different Disneybound every day, or dress your way through the rainbow. Wear hats or scarves! Paint butterflies on your face. Have fun. Then take a selfie for posterity, or post it online to encourage others.

Whatever you choose, resist the urge to wear your PJs all day, every day. That's fun for a weekend, but I promise you an all-day PJ habit will drag you down fast, and turn your days into a depressing drudgery. Also if your PJs are really that much more comfy than your day-to-day clothes, BUY NEW CLOTHES. And learn to embrace stretchy fabrics!


2) Make a daily "To Do" list

This changed my life, gang. Accept no substitutes!

Every morning I sit down with breakfast and jot down what I want to do that day. But here's the secret: The list isn't just work stuff! The list is everything and anything I'd like to do that day - even things I want to think about. On my list today I have things like Call Bianca (a good friend), Make Brownies, Brainstorm New Wall Finishes (for a future project), and Do Your Nails.

Adding fun things to your list is essential, so each morning brainstorm what you *want* to do, in addition to things you *should* do. What memories do you want to make? What activities make you feel better when you're stressed?

Don't overload your list, though. If you add too much your brain could do that thing mine does where it looks up at the mountain, switches to white noise, and then leads you to the couch to binge How It's Made for 4 hours. So stick to 15 items or less at first, then add on from there.

If you have a set routine every day, print it out and either laminate it or put it in a plastic sleeve or picture frame, so you can use a dry-erase marker on it. My laminated list is a smeary mess, but here's how it looks right now, halfway through my day: