Kristi

“…never pass up a bathroom…” from The Bucket List

So, we are talking about ageism in my Intro classes which has to be my favorite topic we cover. In fact, talking about age is my favorite activity ever…just below putting a hot fireplace poker in my eye. 😳

Anyhoot, here’s a question that came up today when we were talking about our life expectancy: “Would you want to know what day you were going to die?” Half of the class nodded while the other half shook their head vigorously. The ones that said yes talked about how they would get things done…travel…be with family, etc. The ones that said no stated that the anxiety of knowing this would put a damper on the rest of your life.

I’ve been thinking about this today and don’t know which I’d choose…both sides have valid arguments. One student said “If I knew when I was going to die, I’d write out a bucket list and work to cross everything off.”

Did you know the term ‘bucket list’ didn’t come about until the 2007 film with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson, and did you also know I’d give my left arm to hear Morgan Freeman read to me in person. Just sayin’.

I think I might be one of the few people I know that doesn’t have a bucket list and I actually have felt bad about that…like I have no goals or aspirations. Anyhoot, according to howtoadult.com, the most commonly found items on bucket lists from around the world are:

See the Northern Lights – OK, I’m going to admit this: I had no freaking idea where these were but now that I know they’re in Iceland, the chance of me moseying up there is slim. However, my son really wants to go to Iceland even though he hates the cold to the point if it’s under 60, he bitches about it. Go figure.

Run a Marathon – DONE! I’ve run 5 marathons in my life: 2 in Chicago, the St. Louis, the Green Bay, and Disney from which I have a gold Mickey Mouse medal! Yea!

Take an African Safari – my friend travels to Africa twice a year to spend time at the By Grace Orphanage in Kayole, Kenya. She created a non-profit, Stand up for Grace, and I’ve helped her with it since it’s inception 15 years ago. Unbeknownst to ma, I am planning to go next winter. It’s in a fairly dangerous place but I want to meet these kids so badly and work to make where they live better. Ma is totally against this…she’s convinced I won’t come back for whatever reason: getting run over by a rhino, getting held up (this has happened to my friend), saying or doing something unacceptable in the area and being jailed (yes, I have a big mouth and am impulsive…but yes, my friend would be there reeling me in), and the list goes on. So ma…if you’re reading this: I’ll be fine! OK?
Write a Story – I’ve written lots of kids books that I’ve mentioned before and really want to get them published badly…this is my goal. I’m also writing a book on being bipolar…it’s something I know a tad bit about and I hope to finish it during Christmas break. If, I’m not too busy shoving ma’s roasted pecans down my gullet the entire time. 😐
Walk Along the Great Wall of China – I’m gonna be honest here but I have absolutely no desire to go to China. The wall looks amazing and the history behind it is fascinating, but seeing it on Google earth has pretty much been enough for me.

Learn to Play an Instrument – I would love to learn to play the ukulele. I know I know…it sounds silly but I love the sound of it! I first wanted one when I saw the Andy Griffith show episode where the ‘Fun Girls’ have one and are playing it for Barney in the jail. What more can I say? (Ma…remember when you said you need Christmas ideas…well…here you go…😐).
Snorkel at the Great Barrier Reef – I know this would be fucking amazing and I love love love the water. However, the thought of a 22 hour plane ride makes me want to puke. Literally. Ma and pop would draw straws to see who had to sit by me on planes when the family went on vacation. The loser got to watch me puke in bags for the duration of the trip. Charmed I’m sure. 🤢
Skydiving – O has done this and he loved it! The video of him is so cute but it scared the shit out of me when he left to go do this with his dad. My favorite part of his video is when the guy filming asks if there’s anything he wants to say before jumping and he says: “I love you, Mom!” This is all while his dad was sitting by him and rolling his eyes. I love it. However, me jump out of a plane? I have as much a chance of that as dating Taron Egerton. So the answer is no way. Unless…Taron asks me to do it with him. Strapped to his chest. Hmmmm…
Own a Dog – DONE! I’ve had 7 dogs in my life: Scooter (my first mutt), Tessie (my white German Shepherd), Lizzie (another Shepherd), Squirty (my Toy Poodle I had for 3 years before B and I got divorced…he wouldn’t let me take him and I cried for weeks), Dottie (the one who will always stand out the most in my heart…I cry for her everyday and miss her so so much), Edward (my mutt who is the most loving dog ever), and Mally (who is doing so well)! I will never be without a dog; even when they’re at the groomers, I don’t know what to do with myself in the empty house!
See the Pyramids in Egypt – actually, Pop and my step-ma are going there with my sissy and her hubby in July. I can’t wait to see their pics and actually did a report on Egypt in the 6th grade which they can all use as a tour guide. I’m sure it’s very comprehensive.
Learn another Language – I took 2 years of French in high school and can say 4 things in the language: hi, yes, bye and where’s the toilet. Why would I need to learn anything else? 🙄
Ride a Venetian Gondola – I would LOVE to do this…I want to visit Italy so badly some day so this is definitely one I need to jot down on my list.
Drive across the Country – Another one I really really want to do! J and I always talked about buying an RV and spending a year traveling all across the country and I still have dreams of doing this. I guess I’ll have to with Taron now. Darn. 😏
View Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower – O has done this too (my son is very well traveled) and his pics are amazing. And, because of my fluency in French, I think I would do great in this country.
Hike the Pacific Crest Trail – hmmmm…I’ve actually always wanted to hike parts of the Appalachian trail but am up for this too. Just so I look like Reese Witherspoon did in the movie “Wild” while doing so. All I need is to take 10 years off my life, be a blonde, have a rockin’ bod, and look good while sweaty. Yep…that’ll happen.
Take an Alaskan Cruise – Yes! Ma took one years ago and loved it and the pics of what she saw are absolutely gorgeous. Plus, I hear there are a lot of single men in Alaska…who really want to move to Central Illinois 😉.
See your Favorite Band – I’ve actually seen my all time favorite singer: Elton John; it was in 1989 in Chicago and amazing and I’d love to see him again! BTW, it was the first time I smelled pot. But not the last. Don’t tell ma. Or pop. 🤨
Go Glamping – No, I’ve never heard of this but it’s glamour camping…right up my alley. In fact, I think I have a better idea: hotelamping. Staying in a luxury hotel that has a spa, pool and cabana boys at your beck and call. T…let’s do this!
Visit Stonehenge – O has also done this (crappy kid has done everything) but said this about Stonehenge: “It was a pile of rocks, ma. You aren’t missing much.” I’ll take his word for it.
Hike Mt. Kilimanjaro – OK, I had to look up where this is and saw it’s in Tanzania which I also had to look up until I realized it is in Africa. The hike is 55 miles over the course of a week and I’d actually like to do this…I love to hike!

Now, anything else I want to add to a proposed bucket list? Hmmm…white water rafting on the Colorado river, opening a plant shop, convincing my son it’s time to give me a grandbaby before I get too old to see the little fart, and singing on stage where everyone claps and cheers even though it sucked balls. I have huge aspirations…huh?

So, would I want to know when I was going to die? I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want that in my head but I do want to get some things checked off in my life. I mean face it, at the age of 54 that time frame is apparently shrinking…at least according to my young sweetie students who think 30 is old. Blech. 😳

Kristi xoxo

“So darlin’, darlin’, stand by me” ~ Ben E. King

So, one of my students and I always walk out to our cars together after my last class and today she said something no one has asked me before: “How do you take everything people put on you?” I looked at her quizzically and she went on to say this: “We are always sharing things with you and burdening you with our problems…doesn’t that get hard to deal with?” I told her that it didn’t and I was just the kind of person people open up too. But, as usual, I started thinking about this more and realized that it probably does affect me more than I let on…or that I even admit to myself.

As the Grand Poobah would attest too, teaching Psychology (and Sociology) puts you in a position of teaching topics/issues/concepts that are so personal. For example, in my Marriage and Family class (my area of expertise…I have enough experience 🙄) we talk about issues including domestic violence, child abuse with special emphasis on sexual abuse, rape, infidelity, divorce, alcoholism, mental disorders and their affect on relationships and the list goes on. Pretty heavy stuff, huh?

In my Theories of Personality class that my student is in we talk about attachment, parenting, various conceptions of personality development that can go awry, personality disorders, theories that explore our neurosis, Horney’s Tyrrany of the Shoulds, the Inferiority Complex (Adler), our Shadow archetype (Jung), anxiety and defense mechanisms (S. and A. Freud), identity formation (Erikson), issues relating to freedom (Fromm), love (Fromm), conformity, social belonging, narcissism, psychopathy, real self vs. ideal self (Horney and Rogers), self-esteem, self-worth, Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, self-image and you get the point. ALL of these topics can bring things up in students and even though it sounds absolutely horrible to admit, tears are sometimes shed.

Today we talked about Humanistic theories and discussed Roger’s belief in phenomenology and how it’s OUR perceptions, based on OUR experiences, that need to be the focus of attention. We live in our own bubbles based on things we have gone though which skews perceptions…but those perceptions, though maybe not rational, are real and need to be validated. After all, they’re ours.

So one of my students is a recovering heroin addict who spent 6 years in prison and has been clean since. She lost custody and contact with her first 2 children because of this but has another little girl she’s raising with her partner. The little girl has special needs and acts out uncontrollably at times. She’s in the process of being evaluated, etc. but it’s really hard for my student to handle. When we started talking about how our experiences shape our perceptions, she started crying and said this: “I’m a horrible mom. I get so impatient and so frustrated and I’m giving her these experiences that are going to screw her up. Maybe I’m just not meant to be a mom.”

This broke my heart. This woman is one of the kindest, smartest, and most motivated person I know and she works and tries with her daughter so hard. But, she makes mistakes. She yells and gets upset and cries and is now beating herself up over these times her daughter is taking in. After she calmed down I asked her this: “Name a perfect parent.” She couldn’t. I said: “Name a parent who is 9.9/10.” and she said YOU and I started laughing. WHAT? I told her that you could write every single mistake I made with O on the huge walls of our lecture hall and would still need room for more. I even called O on speaker and asked him to rate my parenting…he said he would probably give me around a 7.5-8. So, in other words, I have degrees in Psych and Family Studies, have worked with ages from 2- 70, have certifications out the wazoo…and I’m a C parent 😳.

She started laughing and we talked about how we are all going to ‘give’ our kids negative experiences because we’re human…they’re human…and when you have 2 imperfect humans interacting, there’s gonna be issues. But that’s OK. It’s normal!

Throughout the same class, students have also talked about lack of self-worth stemming from an assault, growing up in an abusive home where there was never any acceptance or positive interaction, feeling inferior to everyone else, confronting their ‘shadows’ and things they have done that they regret, etc. And I listen, validate, comfort, and sometimes advise if I think it’s appropriate.

And you know, in all of my 28 years of teaching at the college level, I have NEVER once talked about domestic violence, sexual abuse, rape, alcoholism in families, or anything else without a handful of students in each class talking about their own experiences or coming to my office to share with me. It breaks my heart. So much. And it’s hard to not bring that home and have it haunt me. I just want to take these young people and wrap them all up in a blanket and schlep them off to a bubbled island where they won’t ever hurt again.

But I have my own issues too. Ever heard of ‘Imposter Syndrome’? This is when you feel like a fraud in what you do…that you really aren’t good enough for the position. I feel like this a lot! Here I am…someone who did shitty in high school…standing in front of future lawyers and counselors and executives and teaching them for a grade that will be on their transcript forever. Sometimes I think I should be in one of the seats…not out in front.

And today? We’re talking about DV in class and I always get choked up. How can I not when ma suffered 28 years at the hands of a batterer? And then we listen to a 911 call placed by a little girl, 7, who’s reaching out for help while her step-father beats her mom in the background. This resounds with me. I used to hear R beat mom when I was in bed. The fear and paralysis and sounds and powerlessness are still there in my head. The first time I heard it I couldn’t believe what was happening. It was the most awful night in my life and growing up in a home with that throughout my teen years has affected me. So when I hear the call, I can understand the girl’s anguish. (And yes, I called 911, my grandparents, my sissy, etc. and we all tried to help ma as much as we possibly could but ultimately, it’s the victim that has to take the help 😔).

When I lecture about sexual abuse, how can I not think of the 2 years I was abused by my psychologist? How can that wound not be re-opened every single semester in multiple classes? Then, when my sweetie students start to share their stories with me, it crushes me.

I never get through my lecture on divorce without choking up to where I sometimes need to take a breather. I hated my parents divorce…it was so hard on sissy and I, and I swore my kid would NEVER ever experience the break-up of their family. Yet he did and I remember his pain. His tears. His shouts. His haunted eyes. And I beat myself up again and again for that.

When we talk about mental illness and it’s stigmatization and how hard it is to live with, I get angry. Why is there still so much shame associated with illnesses no one wants or deserves or asks for? And then when my students message me and tell me they experience depression or anxiety but can’t ask for help because they’re scared people will look at them differently, I cry…because they’re right. You are looked at differently.

So I guess I take on other’s burdens because they need me too. They need someone to share with and talk too and learn from…something I didn’t have in school. They come to me because I’m open about things I’ve gone through…they know about ma (she has actually spoken to some of my classes), me having bipolar, me having been abused, etc. I share with them because they need to know there are people behind these statistics…text chapters…articles. When I say to them: “I understand” they know it’s true. Look, they’re there for me everyday…the huge family I never had and they let me live out my passion to teach and make me feel like I might be making a bit of a difference in their lives. I get back so much more than I give to them so if another student ever asks me why I take so much on, here’s what I’m going to say: “Because I love you all.” It’s as easy as that.

Kristi xoxo

“But it’s time you started living…” ~ Mary Tyler Moore Theme Song

Dear Mary Tyler Moore,

So, I don’t know if God allows computers in heaven and I’m really not sure how’ll you’ll read this letter but I’m going to give it a shot anyway.

I grew up watching you on the MTM show and wanted to be you so badly. Not only did you have this amazing apartment (where you even got to sleep on a pull-out bed…how cool was that? 😲) but good friends that were your neighbors. You were beautiful, funny, smart, empathic and loved to eat salads like I did. And you know…besides the beautiful, funny and smart parts, I’m very much like you were then.

Every show that I watched up until yours started airing was about a family…you know, the dad who went to work everyday, the mom who wore heels to vacuum in, and the darling little angels whose worse problem was getting lobbed in the nose by a football. Then you came on the scene: this unmarried woman who lived alone, had a successful career and embraced singlehood and all that it entailed. Wow. What a new concept to me.

It’s funny to re-watch these shows now because the sexism in the workplace is horrendous. Lou looking at your butt when you walk out the door…you making $50 less than the man who had your exact job but had a family to support…the men in the newsroom calling you honey and asking for coffee even though you were an associate producer. It’s hard to remember that this was normal for the 70’s and sometimes I have to wonder how much it’s really changed. We’re still making coffee…often being talked to condescendly…and have to keep doing better and better to prove that we are the woman for the job. I remember when I met a neighbor after moving into my house. He asked what I did and I told him I worked at the college in town; then he asked what department I was a secretary in. Now granted this guy was about a billion years old, but even so it shows that we still have work to do. 🙄

I took you as a strong feminist and until I started reading more about you and realized how much our views on women mesh. You weren’t a big fan of Gloria Steinem, huh? In your last TV interview, when asked about why you didn’t relate to her well, you said this: “I believed that women—and I still do—have a very major role to play as mothers. It’s very necessary for mothers to be involved with their children. And that’s not what Gloria Steinem was saying. Gloria was saying oh, you can have everything, and you owe it to yourself to have a career. And I didn’t really believe in that, so that was a little difficult for me.”

When I read that, I actually shouted AMEN! When I was growing up amidst the women’s movement, I thought I had 2 choices: have a family or have a career. Gloria chose her career and after having an illegal abortion in 1957, said she needed to prove herself and make her life count. It was as if she couldn’t see any way to do both but you did.

Why is being a mom often seen as second to being a career woman? “Oh…you’re a mom…so you just stay at home?” Uh, yeah…I did. And no matter how much I’ve achieved on a personal level, it doesn’t mean jack shit next to the fact I raised an amazing young man who is doing such wonderful things.

We’ve gone from saying “You can’t have it all!” to “You can have it all!” but is this true? Christine Hassler wrote this in the Huffington Post in 2011: “…not only are we supposed to have it all but do it all at 100 percent: the career, relationship, children/family all while looking good, doing good and being good.”

Really? That’s having it all? Hmmmm…I think that might be having too much. After all, how can you give 100% to 5 different things? How is that possible, and why don’t men need to do the same? An article in Psychology Today says this: “It’s true that many husbands are more willing to pitch in today, but things are far from equal. Taking care of the home is still squarely on the shoulders of wives, despite the fact that many are working. Some studies suggest that women have almost three times the workload of their husbands. Interestingly, these proportions stay about the same, regardless of whether a wife has a full-time job, and whether or not her husband is currently working.”

Yeesh. Three times the workload? So let’s see: we have being a wife/partner, being a mom, having a career, looking good (which is a requisite for women in our society today), and being good which is also still a societal expectation. And then we wonder why the hell women are twice as likely to be on anti-depressants and more likely to be on anti-anxiety meds than men. Some of this is due to biology…thank you, estrogen. But like the APA says, there are life factors as well: unequal power and status, work overload, and being the victim of abuse.

Maybe the question shouldn’t be “Can you have it all?” but what your opening song says: “You’re gonna MAKE it after all.” And to me, making it means being who and what you want to be. That’s part of what feminism is to me: having a choice in creating the life you want instead of having to follow a preordained path.

You didn’t have a partner or family on the show, but you were happy. Fulfilled. Had fun experiences. You did have it all…a full, satisfying life you were living on your own terms, despite what our culture said at the time.

And in your ‘real’ life? I know you suffered with diabetes beginning in 1969 after having a miscarriage, and that this disease almost blinded you as you got older. You had a benign brain tumor in 2011 and were very open about being a recovering alcoholic. And worse of all…you lost your only son after he suffered an accidental gunshot wound at the age of 24. I can’t even begin to imagine what pain that brought to your life. Bless your heart. 🧡

You see, that’s what I love so much about the ‘real’ you..and not just the TV you. You stood up for your own beliefs. You fought battles and talked about them…were open about them…didn’t shy away from answering the hard questions about them. So really, in that regard, you were the MTM on TV…someone living an authentic life and being exactly who you wanted to be. How refreshing…and how rare.

Anyhoot, I admired you as a kid and I still admire you as an adult. Watching your show not only gives me some really great decorating ideas (like when you antiqued a piece of furniture by hitting it with a chain 🤨), but shows me that being single doesn’t have to be seen as a flaw. I don’t need to feel less than because I’m alone; actually, you’ve taught me that I’m really not alone after all: I have an awesome family, friends at school, my students, my neighbors, my pets…I’m really blessed! You showed me I can have a full, happy life with ‘just’ me at home. Being single isn’t a curse…it’s an opportunity. What a great lesson that is.

Finally, you taught me that voicing views different from others is a privilege we should all take more advantage of, instead of this ‘herd’ mentality. I can be loved…liked…and me at the same time. Confidence isn’t conceit and having a sense of self-worth isn’t selfish. It’s simply strong.

So thank you for the lessons growing up…and the lessons I’m still learning now. You know, I can picture you having coffee with Rhoda, Phyllis and Lou while trading stories about anything and everything that comes to mind. Perhaps you’ll let me join you someday. If so, I’d be honored.

Love,

Kristi xoxo

“But there is love and love is warm.” ~ Time to Wander

So, I left my Theories of Personality class crying yesterday and when I was traipsing through the library to get to my office, my friend asked me if I was OK and here’s what I said: “I’ve been teaching college for 28 years at 3 institutions and this was the best class in my life!” And I meant it. It gave me chills and the warmest feeling in my heart. Damn I love my students! 😃

Anyhoot, we are talking about Erich Fromm and discussed the “Art of Loving” and while doing so, we reviewed the 4 elements Dr. Fromm said were necessary for true love:

Care – the active concern for the life and the growth of that which we love.
Responsibility – the voluntary act (not obligation) to be ready to respond to the psychic needs of the other person.
Respect – (literally means ‘to look at’) ability to see a person as they are and to be aware and accepting of their growth. Seeing the person as a unique person who is NOT an object for use.
Knowledge – the knowing of a person on a deep, intimate level in which you can ‘see’ when they are hurt, angry, upset, etc. even in the face of their denial.

Each of these is difficult to define and can differ depending on the people involved and their circumstances. Seen in these terms, love is hard work, but it is also the most rewarding kind of work. Do you agree? I sure as fuck (ma? Are you there? 😬) do!

Dr. Fromm also goes on to state: Love is an art and has to be practiced like any other art; it requires discipline, concentration, patience, and a supreme concern to master the art. Those are some pretty hard things to do, aren’t they?

Well, my students started discussing this and they had such insight and examples from their own lives and relationships. And of course, I had a few tidbits to share as well.

Why is it we work so so hard at other ‘love’ relationships in our lives, but when intimate, partner relationships get tough, we walk away? It’s almost like relationships are expendable nowadays. Not ‘happy’? Go find someone else. Not ‘getting along right now?’ Go find someone else. ‘Arguing?’ Go find someone else. I mean really…isn’t it easier just to jump on an app and find another person to be with? It’s a hell of a lot easier than working…trying…being patient. Right?

Heh? SO…when O was a little guy and he was sick and cranky and I was ‘unhappy’, I should have walked away? When he was a teenager and we argued about various things, I should have walked away? When he comes over and starts yapping about religion where his views are different than mine (vastly different 🙄) I should walk away?

Of course not! Duh! I love my son. Unconditionally. I have always cared for him (and it’s hard for him to understand why I still have the need to care for him even at 28). I feel a responsibility towards him and respect the amazing man he has grown into. Finally, I’ve learned to understand him…know him. And I reap those rewards everyday.

But, if these things happen in an intimate relationship, we don’t feel the need to put in the work to solve them. What does walking away do? It changes the situation, but not the people. And it’s the people who are important.

My students and I went on to talking about whether or not you need to love yourself to love others, or to have others love you. Our consensus: Oh yea!

Look, I don’t always like me…in fact, there have been times that I’ve hated what I’ve said or done. But I still love me. We all have too. We come into this world alone…with our own little souls. And we’ll leave alone…with our own little souls. When it gets right down to it, we ultimately have to depend on ourselves. People come and go. Ma and Pop will leave this earth someday (even though I have forbade them both to NOT too 😳) and it will crush me to pieces. I know it will. My son has forged a new life and I’m a part of it, but not the central piece of it that I used to be. My sissy has her own life and beautiful grandbabies to be with and take care of. In other words, people in our lives change roles…leave us…pass away…and fundamentally speaking, we have ourselves in the end.

If love is an art…a discipline…a concept to be learned and practiced like Fromm says, then can’t we do that in terms of loving ourselves even more? Can’t we learn to care for ourselves more? Carve out more time to do what makes us happy? Allow ourselves to try things that will help us grow? Take the time to explore the creative side we all have?

And what about responsibility? Don’t I need to face what is happening in my life at any given time…with kindness? Don’t I have a responsibility to myself to be the best person I can be…to myself and to others?

Respect? I think this is the piece that really grew in myself after the breakdown I experienced. I was this ‘thing’. This object. This ‘something’ that I felt had no value…no purpose…no hope. So I attempted suicide. So I cut myself. So I didn’t eat. So I didn’t shower. So I just ‘didn’t.’ Why wasn’t I still seeing ME in the midst of all that was happening? Luckily, I started too. I’m ME. Kristi. A person that deserves to be seen and loved. By others…and by me.

Further, I’m learning more and more about myself as I purposely focus on that. I’m learning I’m not a bad person because I have fucking (sorry, ma 😐) bipolar. I’m not a failure because I’ve been married 3 times (shutty 🙄). And, I’m not a horrible person because I make mistakes.

In other words? I’ve learned to treat myself like I treat others. It’s a process. A journey. It’s not selfish or narcissistic or boastful. It’s loving yet another person in my life who happens to be me.

You know, being dumped as many freaking times as I’ve been has always made me feel less than. That happened yet again a few weeks ago…being ghosted after a year of being together and after 35 years of knowing each other. That hurt. Bad. But are the dumps all my fault? Have they happened because I’m just a bad person? Nope. I’ve come to realize that the blame doesn’t rest solely on me. It rests on both people…in the context they are living in…with the baggage they carry…with the issues they have.

I do believe what Dr. Fromm says: Love is an art and has to be practiced and nurtured in order to grow. I know I can do this…I have for all of the people I love in my life, including me. If I ever find someone (🤨 ) that will see things the same, then that will be fucking fabulous (sorry again, ma). But, after class yesterday I also learned this: if I don’t, that’s ok too. Because love is in my life so much with my family and friends and students and neighbors. And…maybe most importantly of all…because it’s in me.

Kristi xoxo

“Not Every Girl wants to be a Princess”

So, I am not a girly girl. At all. In fact, from the time I can remember, I was a tomboy and would revel in getting dirty and sweaty and stinky whenever I could. And that still holds true…even at the young age of 54 (shutty 🙄).

Anyhoot, why am I thinking about this? The other day, sissy called me and said I just had to go to this online shop to get some of their nail wraps because she had a few sets and they are adorbs. So within 5 minutes, I had an account on the site, ordered 4 sets, and signed up for their mailers. I’m not easily influenced at all.

The box came a few days later and was packed so cute with the nail wraps, some tools and other goodies, and I was so excited just looking at them. But then I tried them and luckily, T prepared me for this: “Kristi, these aren’t as easy to use as I thought but I learned some tips and you’ll catch on quickly.” She was right…I caught on after re-reading her messages a dozen times, watching countless YouTube videos, and just winging parts of it I couldn’t figure out. Now mind you, these are nail wraps…not a NASA project. I got a practice set with my order and went through those in 5 minutes…those fuckers are sticky.

After ruining another set, I finally got them on and I felt so WEIRD! I couldn’t stop looking at my hands and was mesmerized by my nails. I was scared to do dishes…type…take out the garbage…and really, just move my hands in any way fearing they would come off. In fact, I was so distracted I don’t remember much about that week save for my flowered nails. If anything else big happened in the world, give me a shout.

It was a relief when the first one fell off…which I’m sure didn’t happen by me constantly picking at them. It was like I could live again…enjoy the scenery and not make my hands the focal point of my life. I think the Grand Poobah was relieved too…he was sick of me saying “Look at my nails!” to him every 5 minutes during our office hours 😳.

This reminds me of when T and I first started experimenting with make-up. This was the early 80’s and cosmetics were kinda icky back then. Foundations came in 3 colors: orange, orangier, and orangiest while lipsticks were slimy and came off if you blew your nose and a tissue touched your lips. Eyeshadows were blue and green (which I loved!) and you had to have a swipe of blush right on your cheekbones without any blending. The first time T got all made up, I thought she was gorgeous! Her skin was the color of an Oompa Loompa and she couldn’t smile for fear of either cracking her foundation or showing the schmears of lipstick on her teeth, but by golly, she was a knock out and I was mesmerized. I couldn’t wait until I could try it myself!

So I started experimenting and to this day…all these years later…I’m still as much of a novice now as I was then. I’ve worn foundation 3 times in my life and as God is my witness, I will never wear it again. I can color match, blend, powder, and rub and still have a line on my jaw that shows where my skin ends and my make-up begins. And eyes? I LOVE the look of eyeliner that curls out from the lid. I’ve tried to do this more times than I care to count and there is no way on this great green earth I will ever get the hang of it.

My hair is the same way. I love messing with it and try to curl it and make it look ‘cute’, but I know I don’t always succeed. As it gets longer, I get more and more bewildered by buns and upsweeps and braids so I usually just get some cut off and then cry and say I’m going to grow it again. It’s a comforting cycle to be in and a pattern I never intend to break.

And clothes? I can count on 1 hand the number of times I’ve worn a dress these past 30 years and 3 of those were at weddings. Mine in particular. I think I once wore a dress to a graduation until I found out that running shorts under your robe feels better, and the other was to a funeral because my black pants had dog hair on them at the time. The chances of me wearing another one soon is about a billion to one.

I can’t walk in a dress…or sit in one…and since they require shoes other than Birkenstocks (which is all I wear now 😐) or my ASICS, I’m screwed in being able to walk. I have never truly figured out high heels. EVERY time I have ever bought any they have either been too big so that I walk out of them or too small so that I get huge blisters on my heel. And before you ask, they always fit perfectly in the store. Go figure.

My outfit of choice? Cargo shorts, t-shirt, Birkies, lip gloss and a smear of mascara. That’s about all you get with me. Charming…right? And colors? I am NOT a pastel type of woman. I am a gray, black, white, and dark green type that has to wear a belt anytime I have on pants or shorts with belt loops. O makes fun of me: “Ma, you don’t need to tuck in a wear a belt all the time.” Ummmm…yes you do. If there are belt loops, I’m going to use them. And, the only time you’ll see me untucked is if I’ve had a big lunch or am a bit gassy from spicy food 🤢.

Oh, I look at ads and social media and see these gorgeous women with the poreless faces and perfect makeup tottering around on 6″ heels while wearing skin tight dresses that show off their ass and I think ‘if only.’ Then, I start to think how I would break my ankle, split my dress while sitting down, and fuck with my make-up so much people would start to stare. So…no red carpet walk for me.

A couple of years ago, ma said I should never ever pierce my nose so I pierced my nose. It was like this ‘feminine’ thing for me and I couldn’t stop messing with it. I stared at my nose for significant stretches of time and whenever I twirled it around or wiggled it to make sure it was in place, it looked like I was picking boogies. Every family member would say this to me countless times: “Kristi, quit playing with your nose.” I think they were relieved when I snagged the damn thing taking off my shirt and never got it re-pierced.

It’s funny because I love being a ma and a daughter and a sissy and a sometimes girlfriend or wife, but I hate being too girly. I have nighties I’ve worn but prefer boxers and tank tops. I’ve bought fancy schmancy undies with lace but prefer my good old cotton Hanes. I’ve bought purses with little buckles and sparkles but prefer shoving my credit card in my back pocket. I’ve bought dangly earrings but prefer the studs I got in high school from my first serious boyfriend.

But, it’s me. Tomboyish me who loves to paint and dig in the yard and wash my car in the drive and mow my lawn and pull up carpet and use my new nail gun and ooo and ahhh over power tools at Harbor Freight and run in the rain and ride motorcycles when I can get my hands on one and get muddy with Eddie when we walk around the neighborhood. And frankly, doing all of this with nail wraps and make-up just doesn’t seem right to me. So that’s my excuse for being so unadorned…and I’m sticking to it.

Kristi xoxo

“And a time to every purpose, under heaven…” ~ The Byrds

Mindfulness Optimism Relax Harmony Concept – mindful.org

So, I love Jim Henson and always have. He was such a creative genius and I truly believe the world is a better place because of him; I came across this quote the other day and wanted to take a closer look-see at it because it resonated with me so much:

“Most people, and particularly kids, don’t realize that they are in control of their lives, and they’re the ones that are going to make the decisions, and they they’re the ones that are going to make it one way or the other. Usually, adolescence is a time when kids feel that the world is doing it to them and that they are the victim in all of this. Somewhere in here, you have to learn that you’re not the victim. But instead you’re the one who’s doing it. That moment is sometimes a long, slow realization, or sometimes, it’s turning on a light switch. All of a sudden you realize that you are the person who has control of your life.”

See, I started a class a couple weeks ago on mindfulness and meditation. These are things I’ve heard of before but to be honest here’s what I pictured: a balding man wearing robes and beads and chanting to himself. Yes, I know how cliche that is, but I truly didn’t know anything about this subject. Anyhoo, even after a couple of weeks I’m learning so much about how to stay calm and see things that are happening in a much different way.

I figured that mindfulness and meditation are used to only stay calm and feel good but oh boy…I was wrong (as usual 🙄). The book we are using in our class is “Good Morning, I Love You” by Shauna Shapiro and I take pages and pages of notes while reading each chapter…I may need more paper by the end of the class. Here’s what she says that resonates with me so much (paraphrased): We hold ourselves to unrealistic standards of perfection and judge ourselves harshly when we fall short. When we do this, we are assuming that perfection is possible and logically, we know it’s not. But, Dr. Shapiro makes it very clear that TRANSFORMATION is possible…that we can learn and change and grow throughout our lives.

So mindfulness, according to Dr. Shapiro, is paying attention in the moment (and meditation is one avenue we can use to do that). IN THE MOMENT. According to studies, our minds wander 47% of the time which means…get ready for it…we’re not in the present for 1/2 of our lives. HALF of our lives. That’s seemed crazy high to me, but as I’ve really been consciously focusing on the present, I know this statistic is right.

Dr. Shapiro’s Tedx Talk…it’s amazing!

I can’t believe how much I berate myself for things I’ve done or said in the past, or I’m worrying about what I’m going to say or do in the future. While we are in the past, Dr. Shapiro says that we are often practicing 3 things: judgment, impatience, and frustration. As I think back, I do this all of the time and hold myself up to higher standards (perfection!) than any other person in my life. I forgive people for what they do or say…but forgiving myself is a completely different story. Why can we treat others with kindness and mercy, but not ourselves?

Also, Dr. Shapiro talks about how we all feel bad about ourselves. Maybe the degrees of this differ but most of us beat ourselves up and feel shame about who we are. The problem? She teaches us that shame literally shuts down parts of the brain that promote growth and learning…it robs the brain of energy that’s needed for the growth and change we’re seeking. So, instead of growing, I’m robbing myself of any chance of transforming my life in a positive way.

Dr. Shapiro goes on to say how she really struggled with practicing mindfulness while at a retreat in Thailand until a monk said this to her: “What you practice grows stronger.”

Wow. You know how some things hit you when you read them? This gobsmacked me. Think about it: if we’re always worrying or ruminating or judging ourselves or berating ourselves, those ‘habits’ are going to grow stronger to where we actually create pathways in the brain. Pathways that we walk down again and again.

Luckily, Dr. Shapiro reminds us about the neuroplasticity of the brain and how we can grow GREAT things and create new pathways with practice. Remember, what you practice grows stronger. The key? To practice ‘us’ with kindness. Kindness towards ourselves which is the essential part of mindfulness.

Finally, she talks about a block we have in terms of growth: “I don’t deserve to get better” and also reminds of this: “You are not just your past actions.” Read this again if you need too because it’s the end of the punishment we put ourselves through for things we can’t change. Isn’t that a relief?

I’ve been so much more conscious about my thoughts these past couple of weeks and am really trying to focus on the present instead of the past. Last night I let the dogs out and they were playing around in the yard. Bill’s house is a couple away and I get a bit upset when I see it and think back on our relationship. But, when I felt myself doing that, I stopped the thoughts and watched my dogs play in the yard. I felt the cool breeze against my skin, and listened to the sound of the night crickets, and smiling at the fun Ed and Mally were having, and how lucky I am to have this little piece of the earth. I wasn’t stressed about getting them inside and getting ready for bed or drying the dishes that were draining in the sink, etc. I was in the here and the now and took so much pleasure in what was going on around me.

Another example was after school today. I went to the grocery store and my normal mode of operandi is to rush as quickly as I can through it and get the hell out. Today? I started wandering around the produce and saw some strawberries that looked yummy. I took time to look at all the flower bouquets and smelled the roses (literally 😐). I saw one of my students and she said: “Professor K! It’s you!” And we hugged and laughed because I had just taught her class. I decided to buy a bouquet and after I checked out, I found her in an aisle and gave it to her…the look on her face was priceless and made my heart swell. Here’s the thing: I usually see grocery shopping as a chore to get through while I’m planning on the next thing to do. Today I saw it as what I AM doing and actually taking in what was happening in every moment. I came out of the store happy and content. That, my sweetie peeps, is a first.

Finally, I’m also learning from Dr. Shapiro and my Professor that mindfulness creates a space between what’s coming at you and how you respond. To take advantage of that space, you need to be in the present and cognitive of what’s happening. You aren’t simply REACTING but are consciously choosing a response.

Example? Today an older woman (she was about 1000 years old but no, it wasn’t ma 🤨) swung around the corner of my block so widely that she was thisclose to hitting me and I was thisclose to yelling and getting really upset, But, I stopped myself. I took a deep breath, told myself that I wasn’t hit, and went back to listening to my audio book as I was watching the sun come up higher in the sky. The drive to school was peaceful…I wasn’t all riled up.

The moral of the story to all of this? Mindfulness won’t change what happens in your life…but what it will do is change our relationship to what is happening. We go from reactors to responders and from slogging through life in the past to appreciating and finding joy in the present. Signing up for this class was one of the best things I’ve done lately and I can’t wait to keep learning and growing in this practice.

Kristi xoxo

“What’s another word for Thesaurus?” ~ Steven Wright

So first, I want to say THANK YOU!! I now have 300 official followers and since I started this blawg in March, 2020 I’ve had almost 6,000 views and 3,700 visitors from 101 countries! That is amazing to me and you, my peeps, are so supportive and wonderful! Thank you for that! 😍

Anyhoot, after class today I was talking to the librarians and we started naming words that we hated to say…ones that make our skin crawl. We didn’t look at words that are offensive because we hate all of them and their meanings…instead, we looked at everyday words.

These coasters are available on Amazon! I want them!

What are mine? “Moist” is the first one and I must not be alone because one of the librarians said it as well. What is it about that word? Say it slowly: mmmmmoooooiiiiisssssttttt. Blech 🤢. I think it reminds me of when you spill something on yourself and you feel icky the rest of the day…or you are dripping sweat and feeling wet all over…or you touch something you THINK is dry, but it has a film of wetness over it. EWWWWW! When O was a little guy, I loved smelling his sweaty head after he played outside. And, I knew when he was growing up because the smell went from sweet to sour. That’s when I introduced him to the most wonderful product any home with a teenager can have: deodorant.

Another one? “Flap.” O knows I hate this word and uses it all the time: “Hey ma, I cut my finger and have a moist flap!” UGH! 🤢 I remember when his dad called me one day and told me: “Now don’t worry” (I wasn’t 😳), but I practically cut off my finger.” WHAT?? Go to the hospital! Get some care! But being the trooper he is, he wrapped it up and finished out his day. When he got home, I was ready with cotton balls, peroxide, and a bucket in case there was any blood that might make me puke (another word I hate saying!). I gently unwrapped his dozen layers of gauze and saw….get ready for it…..not much. It was a cut with a small flap and if he hadn’t told me about it, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it. I’ve had bigger cuticle mishaps. And BTW, thankfully it was me that had O, B wouldn’t have been able to do it. 🙄

And how about this one: gristle (I usually spell it ‘grizzle’). Anyhoot, this one bothers me because there’s nothing I hate more than biting into a piece of this when I’m eating meat. UGH. So, my first ‘real’ date was going to this guy’s prom at his school when I was a dorky, awkward teen. They served a dinner with roast beef and with my first bite, I had a piece of grizzle. I didn’t know what to do! Spit it out on my napkin in front of his friends (he was a senior 😳) or swallow it (hmmm…spit or swallow…why does this sound dirty to me? 🤭)? I ended up hiding it under my tongue and mumbling something about having to go to the bathroom and that’s where I got rid of the damn thing. Ever since then, I’m scared to bite into meat unless I’ve inspected it for anything my teeth can’t handle.

One more? Curdle. When I was eating/drinking dairy, I would be so paranoid about whether or not it was fresh. I don’t want to point any fingers at who made me this way…but it was ma. The fam was eating dinner one night and I had my glass of milk that I started drinking and it was spoiled! I told ma and she said it was fine. I said: “Ma…it’s disgusting!” and pop finally tried a sip and grimaced. So, not eating dairy anymore alleviates some of this paranoia and my almond milk is always fresh. BTW, nothing makes ma madder than when I smell anything she feeds me. So…I smell everything she feeds me. Go figure. 😁

This book is available at Wal-Mart! And I had to block out the c-word…we don’t want ma to faint.

There are also ‘dirty’ words that completely gross me out and one of them is the c___ word which is a lovely moniker for a woman’s genitalia. It’s such a harsh word…like a bullet when you say it. There’s no way this word can ever sound ‘nice’ and when I hear someone use it, I shiver. And what about bitch? This word depends on who’s saying it. Ma, sis and I will joke around and use it in a funny way, but when it’s said to a woman in a derogatory way, I shudder. A bitch is actually a female dog and the word is used to demean and degrade the woman. When I’ve been called it in the past, it stings. And the f-word (it’s fuck ma, but I know you don’t like me to say it)? OK, I obviously use this fucker more times than I should but sometimes nothing else works. When my step-daughter was a teen, she said ‘fuck!’ while we were riding around in the car and R said: “C…don’t say that!” which is a bit hypocritical since she no doubtedly learned it from him. Anyhoot, she replied with: “Fuckety fuckety fuck fuck fuck!” which is now my go to at least once every time I’m at ma’s. 😎

But as the Grand Poobah and I were talking about while I started writing this, some words that shouldn’t be said are important to be said for one reason: it shows us who the person really is. J’s brother was visiting us one day and we were sitting in the kitchen (the only room I allowed him to be in…and this was all happening while his pitbulls – and yes, I love all dogs – were tearing up my flower/fern garden) with the window over my sink open. My next door neighbor is a sweet black woman who has her grandson living with her and while she was in her backyard, brother used the n-word in a fairly loud tone of voice. I was horrified and J was too. I was so worried that my neighbor heard this and would think I had any connection to this guy. We got brother out and I told J he was never allowed in my house again. But here’s the thing: him using that word showed me the kind of person he is and the lack of value he has for people who aren’t like him (side note: this dumbass is a felon for something pretty bad…I don’t think he should be judging anyone). I’ve had people use other derogatory words in front of me and with only 1 word spoken, I can lost respect for that person and see them differently from then on out. Know what I mean?

Finally, what are words I love to say? Gobsmacked is my fave as is using the word ‘trolley’ instead of grocery cart. I just love British words and calling my phone a ‘mobile’ instead of a cell phone just sounds classy to me. I also love how ‘row’ is used in place of argument and saying ‘knickers’ instead of underwear makes me laugh. Other ones are ‘knackered’, ‘quid’ (I substitute this for the word dollar) and dodgy when I describe something that just doesn’t seem right. I can’t wait to take a trip to England someday and use my anglo vocab.

Anyhoot, words are interesting in terms of how we react to them and what different meanings can be put upon them. I try to be careful in choosing my words…I’m not always successful. However, I promise you’ll never hear this sentence from my mouth: “The moist flap was full of grizzle.” Just sayin’.

Kristi xoxo

“Ignorance is the enemy and it fills your head with lies.” ~ Rodney Crowell

So, the Grand Poobah (my office buddy 😃) and I were yacking yesterday while he was working on an assignment that he didn’t know was appropriate or not. In the chapter he teaches on depression, he wanted to focus attention on suicide with the students reading various articles and watching a documentary about it before writing a paper. He wondered if this would be too triggering for some and we had a discussion about this.

Here’s the thing about triggers: we all have them. After my nephew died in the Navy, every time I heard anything about the military, my heart would pound and my stomach would get a hollow feeling. Before I was open about being bipolar, I’d get nervous talking about mental illness and the importance of awareness, yet I was living a lie which made me so anxious. After I engaged in self-harm, I would get horribly defensive if anyone mentioned cutting or accused me of doing it until I was able to share what I had done. And yes, after I attempted suicide myself, I was extremely sensitive to the topic.

But being a prof of Psychology and Sociology, I can’t back away from these issues because I talk about them in most of my classes. I’ll admit that the first time I taught about suicide after my attempt, I started crying…right in front of my class. I was so embarrassed because that has only happened a couple of times in my entire 3 decades of teaching, but the incident was still fresh in my mind. When I started crying, I quickly thought of lying to my students and telling them I wasn’t feeling well, etc. but then went back to how hypocritical I had been covering up being bipolar for most of my life. I lecture to my students how you have to live authentically and how there is no shame in having a mental illness or having attempted suicide. With that in mind and after a deep breath, I shared that I had attempted suicide myself and explained where I had been in my life at that time.

As I was talking, I couldn’t believe the reactions of the class…some shed tears and some nodded so genuinely that I knew they had had suicidal ideation themselves. After the lecture was over and resources perused, papers were turned in and this is some of what was written to me (with any identifying info taken out but all words of the students as they were written):

“I think the reason it was so hard for me to watch this film is because I have a history with depression. I will not lie and say I have never had a suicidal thought because I have. I used to be in a dark place with my mind and I am not ashamed of that because of how much I have grown. My chest started to get tight while watching the film because it took me back to that time in my life when I was really unhappy. I paused the film and took a break and it helped me. I thought this documentary was very sad and it shows a part of human life that is not shown that much. Suicide is not talked about as much as it should be. There should be more awareness and conversation.”

“This week was a very hard week for me when going over the material. I personally have battled with thoughts of suicide but never had the courage try anything. I grew up with a bipolar mother and struggled with my own anxiety and depression.”

“This topic is tough for me to discuss. I have lost multiple friends due to suicide. I was also almost a suicide victim myself. I struggled my entire life with depression and anxiety. To fully understand the impact of mental health and suicide, I will lay out my story. This is hard for me to do, but I feel it is essential to speak about it.”

“Lastly , I am a survivor of depression and attempting suicide as well. I chose article one because it really touches my life in the last year. My son was self harming by cutting himself on the legs and arms. The day I was told I stopped at nothing trying to find my son’s help. It went from that to last month I found out my son tried x-pills, 2 years of alcohol misuse, becoming withdrawn, rebellious, and just 2 months ago he attempted fighting my daughter and I , he would go from saying he wanted to kill himself, to nobody loving him, to breaking down crying. Glass shattered everywhere, holes in my wall that I’m still trying to get fixed, me trying to console him and my daughter, finally having to call for assistance and watching my son leave by the ambulance screaming he loves me.”

“I can relate to those who express suicidal thoughts, as its something I myself have struggled with. The best way to describe it, is a voice inside your head telling you that no one cares, and your life doesn’t really matter.”

The saddest thing about these comments is that I only picked out these 5 out of the 20 students I had; however, EVERY one of them wrote about their own personal struggles with suicide (the majority) or having a friend or sibling that has attempted or completed. That boggles my mind.

There is so much pain out there. So much loneliness. So much neediness in terms of connection. How horrible that for my students that this has already touched their lives. And from comments in other classes, I also know this class wasn’t an anomaly at all.

Now we talk about triggers which is something I hadn’t heard of or been cautioned about until a few years ago. Us professors are told to tell students when we’ll be studying a subject matter that could be triggering to them and to offer them alternatives. On the surface, this sounds like a good idea. However, the research begs to differ.

Take a look at findings published in Clinical Psychology Article:

“The consensus, based on 17 studies using a range of media, including literature passages, photographs, and film clips: Trigger warnings do not alleviate emotional distress. They do not significantly reduce negative affect or minimize intrusive thoughts, two hallmarks of PTSD. Notably, these findings hold for individuals with and without a history of trauma.”

Also, Forbes magazine reported this:

“Across all the variations in the studies, trigger warnings had trivial effects. In the words of Mevagh Sanson, senior author of the study, “The results suggest a trigger warning is neither meaningfully helpful nor harmful.” “The format of the presumably upsetting content, whether in text or on video, did not matter. Neither did a personal history of trauma; participants who reported they had experienced actual trauma in their lives responded to the distressing material similarly, regardless of whether it was preceded by a trigger warning or not.”

Finally, the Chronicle of Higher Education says this:

“We are not aware of a single experimental study that has found significant benefits of using trigger warnings. Looking specifically at trauma survivors, including those with a diagnosis of PTSD, the Jones et al. study found that trigger warnings “were not helpful even when they warned about content that closely matched survivors’ traumas.””

What do psychologists think? Let’s take a look-see at an article in Psychological Science:

“Specifically, we found that trigger warnings did not help trauma survivors brace themselves to face potentially upsetting content,” said Payton Jones, a researcher at Harvard University and lead author on the study. “In some cases, they made things worse.” Worryingly, the researchers discovered that trigger warnings seem to increase the extent to which people see trauma as central to their identity, which can worsen the impact of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in the long run.”

So, this sheds all new light in terms of triggers. Not only do they don’t seem to work, but they can also increase the distress of a student.

Now, what are usually seen as triggers? Suicide, eating disorders, sexual assault, domestic violence, mental illness, sex, murder, death and anything else the professor deems might be triggering to a student.

There’s absolutely no doubt these are very difficult subjects to learn about, but they are very important to understand. Every 11 seconds, another American takes their own life while there’s also 14 people being hurt by their intimate partner. One in 5 Americans live with a mental illness (51+ million people) and someone is raped every 68 seconds.

Look, these are serious numbers and obviously going to touch all of our lives in one way or another. I once had someone tell me, after a difficult lecture, that ignorance is bliss. Heh? IGNORANCE is bliss? NOT understanding and being oblivious and uninformed is better? For who exactly? You? Us? Me?

If we don’t address these issues…talk about these issues…and learn all we can about them, how in the hell are we going to work at turning these numbers around?

You know, I was really distressed over the sexual abuse I experienced from my psychologist and I’ll be honest: anytime I heard about sexual abuse or rape, I would break out in a sweat and feel like my stomach dropped 10 floors down an elevator. Worse, I started working on a psychology degree and guess what I had to learn all about? I was really nervous when the topic was being presented but the way the professor taught it, I was able to look at it academically and there was truly a comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone. That what I was going through was normal. I learned about sexual abuse and realized that if I always turned my head away from it, I would never be able to use what I’d been through to help others. And that’s what I try to do now.

So here’s the answer to the Grand Poobah who is going to be reading this: keep your assignment on suicide. Students can take breaks when reading articles or watching videos but the information is vital. Suicide (as well as so many other topics I mentioned) is an epidemic and NOT talking about it and teaching about it only keeps it hidden away. I want my students to understand why people want to kill themselves…what signs they can look for…how to talk to someone who is suicidal. I want them to know what early signs of domestic violence are and to understand the pathology of mental illnesses. I want them to be educated in the issues that Americans face every day of their lives.

Unfortunately, I’ve had students come to me days after being raped and I would never ever expect them to complete a unit on sexual assault so soon after the traumatic experience…so there’s obvious exceptions to this. But, ignorance is not bliss and the info we teach isn’t always easy, but it is necessary. Until we face things and help students to understand that their own experiences can be talked about and explored and validated, we are doing them an injustice. We’re simply keeping everyone in the dark.

Kristi xoxo

Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.

So, it was a long weekend of reflection, ruminating and crying…something a bipolar woman like me is very good at. Go figure. 🙄

I was talking to ma about how my last boyfriend moved on so quickly and seriously and how rejected I felt. He ghosted me after an argument where we both said things we shouldn’t have. However, I truly believed it was a cooling off period and he would come back so we could talk. I tried to talk to him once myself and didn’t get an open response so waited for him to make a move. Living 2 doors apart and the time we spent together along with things we went through had me convinced that this was the guy that was going to be the one to stick around and work on what we were building. Once again, the old refrain holds true: I was wrong.

It hit me this weekend when I saw him with his ex in the house I thought he was buying for ‘us’ so that we could have a balance of togetherness and independence and do the relationship ‘right’…not living together already but living close. This is going to be interesting now.

I lied to myself after J and I broke up. After that fiasco, I told my son (who is very strong emotionally…he obviously takes after me 🙄) that I would never let my heart be broken like that again. Never. And I was living up to it…for a while.

The rejections I’ve experienced in my life make me very hyper-sensitive (for lack of a better word) towards them and I think I know who was the biggest rejection of all: me.

My Theories of Personality class and I were discussing Anna Freud today and the various defense mechanisms we might use throughout life to mitigate internal stress. Three of them really smacked me in the face for some reason and made me think about the weekend: denial, distortion, and delusional projection explain so much to me about how I lived my life for decades.

You see, I always knew something was wrong with me…I’ve mentioned that before. I got help in high school and that led to 2 years of sexual abuse by the psychologist and understandably, that was a HUGE rejection of me as a person as opposed to an object. When B and I were married, I thought “this is it!” This is the guy I’m going to spend the rest of my life with and build a family with no matter what. In other words, despite the fact I had a mental illness, I was going to build that life perfectly come hell or high water.

So, I ‘denied’ everything that pointed to me being bipolar. Mania? Nah…I’m just really really ‘happy’ right now. Depression? Nope…not me. I just needed to clean more or make a big dinner. And then to deal with the imperfection inside my mind, I ‘distorted’ my reality in that I figured if the OUTSIDE was wonderful and perfect, then the INSIDE would be wonderful and perfect. I was perfect in a lot of ways…our house was fastidiously clean, dinner was always on the table at 5, holidays were a huge to-do, my room mothering was like no other (teachers fought to have O in their class since my class parties were legend 😳) , I parented the crap out of my son and loved on him until he was blue in the face, and pretty much created this ‘delusional’ world where everything was great. Super. Wonderful. Perfect.

I’m not going to lie…it was tough as fuck to do this. Sometimes getting out of bed took ages and I had to force it and then other times, not going through the roof took all the control and energy I had. The worst part? This charade obviously didn’t work…no matter how hard I tried. Why? Because charades are a game…not reality.

Hubby 3 accepted me completely…sorta. He accepted me completely as long as he was happy and settled and content. If I tried to talk about needing help or other issues, I was told: “You don’t need that…you’re perfect like you are.” Bless his heart…he meant that and thought that was what I needed to hear, but what he didn’t know was how devaluing that was for me. He wasn’t seeing ME. He wanted me to be the perfect one. He didn’t want to know that I was broken too. When our lives began going on different trajectories, he decided he needed to choose between his motorcycle ‘club’ and me and you know who won. I was thrown away for a group of grungy guys who drink beer, belch, ride Harleys and think they’re contributing a lot to the world. Ok. That didn’t hurt the old self-esteem.

J rejected me in the worst way possible and actually SEEING it made it that much worse. The absolutely most horrible and humiliating thing I’ve ever done in my life was to go to his apartment after this situation to ask him to work on things ONE more time. He rejected me (‘she’ was there 🤢) again when ironically, I should have been the one to kick his butt to the curb.

And now? It’s happened again. But the funny thing is this was a guy that I didn’t think would do it because it’s been done to him a lot of times too. It was like I finally found the man who could understand me. Would persevere with me. Would work with me. I did. I handled his ‘drinking’ problem…his anger issues…his trust issues. But he couldn’t handle anything about me? Women cheated on him with best friends and I’m so bad of a person that I’m left for saying 1 thing I shouldn’t have? Really? That’s how disposable I am as compared to others? Wow.

I threw my true self away for so so long in my life and I’ve had others do the same. I’m getting to where I feel unloveable. Or at least I’m loveable when they’re happy, but just not when I’m unhappy. They’re happy when I forgive their outbursts. Their anger. Their diatribes. But they can’t reciprocate. Really?

Maybe that person isn’t out there. I know I finally found her in me and am living as authentically as I possibly can (which is the only reason I can even write these things let alone hit the publish key). It took me about 35 years to do it and I’m wondering if that’s how much longer it will take me to find the person who accepts me for me…imperfect me who is going to fuck up and make mistakes. I’m ok with that me now. I hope someday I’ll find another who will be as well.

So, I realized I’m not just crying for the loss of another relationship that really meant something to me. I’m crying over the years I was lost to myself. For the hiding I had to do. For the daily performances I had to give. And I’m also crying for just how fucking hard it is to be the ‘real’ me.

Kristi xoxo

“Love will keep us together…” ~ Captain and Tennille

So, my sweetie peeps know I began this blog to have an outlet for the myriad of thoughts that run through my mind 24/7 and to hopefully show that living with a mental illness isn’t easy. Like anyone, we have good days and bad days…we just have this additional issue that’s always lurking in the back of our minds and that can pop up and take us by surprise anytime.

Anyhoot, I’ve been thinking about the concept of ‘love’ a lot lately. It’s no secret I’ve been married (cough cough) 3 times and have had 2 partners I’ve lived with. On the surface, that sounds like so much but really, that’s not much for a 54 (blech 🙄) year old but still an embarrassing number to admit too.

I was never a girly-girl…I never had dolls and preferred to climb trees at grandma and gramp’s and work in the yard with my dad. But, I did always want 3 things: a marriage where I would celebrate 50 years with someone who loved me throughout, kids (I got the perfect one the first time around 😍), and a home full of pets and family and security. Hmmmm…maybe 2 out of 3 ain’t bad.

You would think after all of these years in relationships, all of my book-learning regarding the study of marriage and family, and the lessons I’ve learned from each experience I’ve had that I would have this whole ‘relationship’ thing figured out. I don’t.

Really, the question for me comes down to what love is. I mean think about it…what ‘is’ it really? A feeling? A passion? A cognitive connection? A sense of responsibility? A sense of care? A willingness to always continue moving forward even after you’ve taken some steps back? Forgiveness? Appreciation? Promises that are kept? Compassion that’s freely given? An ability to empathize with the person and see/feel their point of view? All of the above? None of the above?

I think one of the issues in relationships today that partly stem from this ‘me first’ attitude in our society is instead of asking ‘What am I getting from this relationship and am I happy?’ we should first think ‘What am I giving to this relationship to make it better everyday?’ But, that’s freaking hard to do, isn’t it? For all of us.

Until R (Hubby 3 – shutty the mouthies 🙄) left our house on Christmas eve, I was pretty sure I knew what love was all about. O’s dad and I had a really good marriage for 13 years…and I know it could have continued had we gotten help. His family doesn’t ‘believe’ in counseling so that pretty much set us on course for divorce when issues started to pile up. But, I know he loved me and I know I loved him. I think that my first marriage was a college/youth/not-prepared-for-this situation and can understand how our lack of readiness led to the demise but it was different with B…it was the ‘real’ thing.

R and I loved each other so much…for the first couple years of our relationship, I didn’t think I’d be able to breathe without him in my life. I adored him. And he reciprocated and still tells me he loves me. I believe it as a best friend but also know this: you don’t leave who you love. Period. I never imagined we’d divorce: after raising teenagers together…going through the deaths of his parents…taking care of his schizophrenic nephew for a couple of years…it was like the ‘bank’ was full and nothing would be able to diminish all of those deposits. I didn’t know that if someone wants to clear out the account in one day, they will.

Then J came into my life. The one who I thought: “OK. This is it. My soul mate.” Yes, he was younger than me (cough cough 😳) but because of what he’d been through as a kid and as a vet, we were pretty well matched. He had his kids and I knew we could be a family; it’s like that dream of the long life being a mommy and wife again was coming back. But we all know how that ended…terribly. Here’s the funny thing though: up until the very end, he said he loved me and I believed it. I always believed it. Even when he took my hands one day and swore he’d never cheat on me again and that he loved me all while having tears in his eyes…and then cheated on me 12 hours later. When he later came back, it was ‘I really do love you’ all over again. And I believed it. Again.

Looking back now I know he never actually did. Maybe he ‘wanted’ too. Maybe he ‘needed’ that family as much I as I did. But the love on his part never really materialized. I was a toy. A resource. A comfortable place to be. But love? No…because you don’t purposely hurt those you love either.

I thought I had this again not too long ago. I got with a man and actually was so giddy over him that I would have married him in a heartbeat. We exchanged rings to show our commitment and swore to one another that no matter what…good or bad…hard or easy…happy or sad…we’d persevere and be together ‘forever.’ We even took ‘vows’ together and for me, these were as strong as ‘real’ ones.

And this was true at first and I was so content. Then, we got COVID, and Dottie died, and I had 3 surgeries in which 1 was performed minutes before I could have easily died, and I was hitting my breaking point with being home from campus for a year and a half and not having that outlet I so badly need, and being on meds that were creating a manic episode like no other I’ve experienced. He had his own stressors as well that were tough on him but I thought: “OK. This is the rough spot. This is the one that’s going to cement us together and we’ll get through this and come out stronger on the other side. This is the test.” And? We failed it.

We started taking things out on each other and as much as I felt he didn’t understand me, I didn’t understand him either. And we were so busy being angry about that, we got to where we didn’t try. When he walked away from me for something I said (he had spoken some pretty bad words to me a few times before this incident too, but I forgave him and wanted to move forward), I figured that was a good thing…we’d cool down…I had an appointment with a specialist to help me figure out the mania…and I was heading back to school which finally got my life back to normal in terms of work.

That didn’t happen. I never heard from him again. Never. Like the year together never was…like it didn’t mean anything. But here’s the thing: throughout our time together, he’d tell me how much he loved me…adored me…needed me…wanted me. He even said if something happened to us, he’d never be with another. And I believed it 🙄. Did he mean this? Obviously not.

Getting through good times in relationships is a piece of cake. Anyone can do that…it’s nothing. Going through bad…and coming out stronger on the other side…takes work. Commitment. Forgiveness. Understanding. In other words, it takes love. How do you LOVE someone with all of your heart on Saturday and then hate them on Sunday? Maybe that’s possible for some…but I’ve never been able to do it.

I love this quote that’s attributed to Marilyn Monroe (although some say she may not have said it herself):

“This life is what you make it. Not matter what, you’re going to mess up sometimes, it’s a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you’re going to mess it up…” “…as for lovers, well, they’ll come and go too. And baby, I hate to say it, most of them – actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can’t give up because if you give up, you’ll never find your soul mate. You’ll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn’t mean you’re gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don’t, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life’s a beautiful thing and there’s so much to smile about.” ― Marilyn Monroe”

So now he’s already back with an ex and that’s great…I’m happy for him because once someone is in my heart, they never fully leave and I want the best for them; there’s always that box they’re inside of which I never get rid of. But it also makes me angry and sad. Sad that moving on was so easy for him and angry that he must have never stopped loving this other gal. Maybe that’s why he could walk away so easily after all of the forever platitudes. She was already waiting on the sidelines while I was trying to figure out why he had started treating me so differently. So coarsely. I forgave him for those times…I had anger…but I wanted to keep moving on. He couldn’t do the same the 1 time I did it back. So he’s gone.

I’m to the point in my life that I’m not sure I’m ever really going to find that ‘true love’. That one who isn’t going to walk out when things get tough. The one who stays and tries and loves with his heart…not his words. The one that understands I’m going to say things and do things and make mistakes because I’m human. The one who doesn’t try to hurt me with words or threaten areas of my life when things are going bad. The one I know will have love for me through the easy and tough. Does this exist? I think so…because that’s what I do. Because when I love…I love.

Kristi xoxo