Irrational OCD Thoughts #1

Yesterday I just had to laugh at myself. As someone living with OCD, I have a lot of random and crazy, nonsensical thoughts. No rhyme or reason, they just pop into my head from time to time (much less than they did in my previous years). But I still have OCD. They're there; I just know how to deal with them now. And I know how not to feed into my OCD thoughts.

Yesterday afternoon I bought a few tennis balls to help rub some knots out of my back to relieve my stiff neck. The only tennis balls that I could find were doggie-playing tennis balls like these:

The first thought in my head was an OCD thought. Here is what my brain said, "Maybe I should give Remy the orange one and keep the blue one because blue is a calming color and blue will help calm my muscles. If I don't use blue, I won't feel calm. So I better not use the orange." All of a sudden, negative feelings started to become associated with the orange-colored paw prints on the tennis ball. I can't keep thoughts like those from popping into my head; it's what I do with the thought that matters. 

I told my brain to shut up, silently, of course, handed the blue ball to Remy, and proceeded to lay on the tennis ball with the orange paw prints and rub it around my back. OCD thoughts squashed!

The problem with OCD irrationalities like these is that with OCD, you convince yourself that these thoughts are true. Years ago, I rationally would have known that the blue paw prints had nothing to do with relaxation and loosening muscles, but my OCD brain would've convinced me that it did. I would not have been able to get this thought out of my head. I would not have been able to use the orange tennis ball, thinking that my back would never feel better as a result of the color of those silly paw prints.

I get it--it sounds ridiculous. But OCD plants these tiny, irrational thoughts in your mind that you just can't shake. Even if you question them at first, OCD has a way of getting you to question your common sense, your ability to rationalize. It makes you believe it. That's the tricky part.

Today I am able to see it for what it is--nonsense--and move on. I know it will be something that I will always have to live with. Of course, I do have bad days where the thoughts last a little longer than I'd like them to, but I am so very proud of myself for being able to squash OCD in its tracks when it's trying to derail me. 


Lots of love <3 Holly

This is Anxiety.

Unsettled:

Unnerved,
Uneasy,
Fidgety,
On Edge,
Complex,
Restless,

Anxious.

Sometimes I hate downtime. Honestly, I really love downtime to the core of my being. It's my anxiety and OCD that hate it. 

Well, my dogs sure do love downtime!

Downtime causes my brain to have too much freedom to wander off into Anxiety Land, causing 

unsettled,
unnerved,
uneasy,
fidgety,
on edge,
complex,
restless,
anxious feelings to pulse throughout my body. 


It's funny how something so revered--freedom, fun, relaxation--can cause so much havoc and stress in my every day. 

It starts in my brain; my brain tells my body that something is "off," something's "not right." I need to be doing something. My brain tells my body that non-productiveness is ridiculous. 

Ignoring my anxiety brain, I try to remain relaxed and calm, but those feelings soon shoot throughout my body like electricity. I begin to feel unnerved, jumpy, jittery, unable to sit still. I sometimes feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin if I don't get up and do something. And my brain is screaming, "JUST GET UP AND DO SOMETHING FOR GOD'S SAKE!" 

I've had a few of these days lately, few and far between from how many I have had throughout most of my life, but enough to make me feel fidgety, on edge. 

That's the thing about anxiety: it's unpredictable. It can wake you from a deep sleep. It can bring down the happiest of days. It hits you in the face like a ton of bricks. Yet you keep pushing it down, ignoring it, blocking it, but the physical affects of anxiety are real and hard to ignore. 

It's hard to make yourself get up (when you want to be relaxing) and run up and down the stairs or jump up and down or dance when you don't feel like it. Sometimes releasing the energy is the only way to bring the anxiety down. It doesn't always work, but it's usually a hit, not a miss. 

Some days I just get tired of the unknown, the rapid fire, the frustration, the restlessness. It gets old.

My goal is happiness, contentment--so I will continue on with this journey, even though the battle gets draining sometimes. I wish I could step in a boxing ring with my anxiety and give it a piece of my mind. Sometimes I've had enough and would just like a vacation from the anxiousness. I can handle it--I do every day. 

Some days it's just hard to feel turned upside down and dangled by your ankles when you just want to do nothing but relax and feel 

settled,
content,
blissful,

happy.

Do you ever have days like that?



Love and happiness <3 Holly

Why I Heart Mary Lambert

I have to say that I love Mary Lambert. I have loved her voice since I heard her sing with Macklemore and Ryan Lewis on their hit "Same Love." Her voice is beautiful. And even more so, I find her candor and her realness inspiring. She is a girl after my own heart and exactly after the same thing that I hope to accomplish with this blog: to be real. 

On Twitter, Mary recently participated in a Billboard question and answer session where her fans could tweet her questions with the hashtag #AskMaryLambert. Her answers were witty and funny. When I need to smile, I read her tweets. Here's a recent one that I love:

I love that she's not afraid to be who she is and no one can stifle her personality. This interview on Vevo totally proves this point:

She isn't ashamed of her emotions; it's who she is. As an adult, I completely feel the same way. When I was a young adult and a teenager, I had a family member tell me that I was too "sensitive" and "too emotional." It really hurt me. I always felt that I needed to be someone else. I thought that I had to hide who I really was and how I really felt about everything in my life because this person meant a lot to me. 

It made me different. I wasn't me. I was a bottled-up and shy girl, who was afraid of being judged by everyone. If I wasn't good enough for my family, then who would I be good enough for? Living with OCD didn't help either. I internalized everything, and the comment about being too emotional played over and over in my head daily, making me feel less-than.

The message Mary sends out to the world is the message I learned myself as I grew older and dealt with my OCD. Who cares if I'm emotional? That's who I am, and I think I'm a better person because of it! I love empathizing with others and feeling touched by kindness and love. Without that side of my personality, I don't know who I'd be. I feel ya, Mary! Keep on crying! I'll be right there with you!

Not only do I love her candidness in interviews, but her first single "Secrets" off her debut album Heart on My Sleeve makes me love her even more. If you haven't heard her single, is everywhere! And I think it has to do with her honest, straight-talking lyrics.

She sings loudly and proudly, "I don't care if the world knows what my secrets are. So what?" Her words really resonate with me. I don't care either! Once you spend so much time pretending you're someone you really aren't, it feels good to finally be yourself, open up, and talk about whatever you damn well feel like!

My all time favorite lyric, possibly ever:

"They tell us from the time we're young

to hide the things that we don't like about ourselves.

Inside ourselves.

I know I'm not the only one who spent so long attempting to be someone else.

Well, I'm over it."

Her sincere honesty about dealing with trauma in her past and who she really is makes me happy. Not because she has to deal with trauma, but because she talks about it openly. She isn't afraid to throw it out there. I think more people should feel okay sharing openly about what they have been through, what they really deal with on a daily basis, and who they are. It would make people happier. The invisible weights people carry around inside their chests would be lifted.

Maybe I love this because Mary's doing exactly what I strive to do on this blog: to be real and honest about my experiences in hopes of relating to someone else's life. 

Sometimes I imagine that Mary and I would be friends and send each other cute pictures to cry over. It is so nice to know that there is someone in the entertainment business who is not afraid to be who they are and make no excuses for it. Thanks for being you, Mary! Keep on rocking on!

Love and happiness <3 Holly

1st Grade Writing Obsession

It's funny the things you realize about yourself in retrospect. Looking back at my young self, as far back as I can remember, I realize that I was born with OCD. My memories and artifacts from my younger life cause light bulbs to continuously flash in my mind, signalling OCD red flags.

It's funny how I think back on the way I looked out the car window on a road trip. I couldn't stop counting the lines between car lanes until I fell asleep because I didn't know when to stop counting. Was 20 okay? 100? 157? I was always afraid that if I stopped counting, something horrendous would happen to my family while we were driving. Hello, OCD!

I was also afraid of eating the little black flecks in my food at eating. I was certain that eating those little black flecks would cause me to die a horrible death. Those flecks could only be there from the pesticides sprayed on my veggies in the 90's.; the news told my little OCD brain so. Later in life I realized that those little black flecks were pepper flakes meant to season those veggies so my ten-year-old self wouldn't need to be bribed to eat them.  

In graduate school I was asked to put together a literacy portfolio--a scrapbook of sorts that shows my development over the course of my life as a literate person. 

Upon gathering mementos to place in my portfolio, I found some very telling evidence that jogged my memory of a little 1st grade OCD me. Over the years I had kept various items from my time in school. I like remembering myself as a writer throughout my life. I always loved writing and kept a lot of my pieces throughout the years for sentimental reasons. 

Going through different artifacts, I found a copy of a 1st grade spelling test that I took so many years ago. On that list my handwriting was perfection. It's funny how certain things like music, smells, noises, a piece of paper, can trigger memories. 

Looking back at that paper and my perfect handwriting made me think of myself as a first grader with OCD. I remember painstakingly pushing down with enough force on my pencil to create the darkest line I could without breaking the lead. That took a lot of practice. I didn't like my pencil lines to be too light or too dark. They had to be somewhere in the middle--a form of grayish black. But only one that my trained eye could recognize.

I did also like them to be pretty dark, and they had to be uniformly dark throughout each stoke of the letter. The harder I pressed, the easier it was to apply pressure, so the more evenly my handwriting came out on paper. How I judged the right shade of darkness of my writing is beyond me at this stage in my life, but I'm sure I had some reasoning that made sense to my first grade self. The point is, OCD, in no way shape or form, ever makes sense.

If my writing didn't look just right to me at the time, I remember feeling this uncontrollable need to erase everything I just wrote and rewrite it from the beginning. If I erased too much--eraser lines were present, or heaven forbid I ripped the paper--I would need to completely start over on a new sheet. 

And that was me. The urge to write everything perfectly was uncontrollable, but I liked writing neatly because as a first grader, it was one thing I could control in my life.

I never realized this was a problem. I remember justifying this obsession in my mind the worry  that I didn't want my teachers or parents or friends to think that I was "sloppy" or "not good enough." All of that, to me, was related to my writing. Ridiculous, I know, but not to a 1st grader. Or a first grader with OCD. 

I don't remember my obsession with perfect handwriting lasting a long time, but I do remember it lasting a few years into my elementary schooling. I know my OCD adapted and changed as I aged and grew into new obsessions and compulsions. Looking back, I realized that OCD has been part of my biology. It's been with me my whole life, and it will continue to be.

Sometimes I wonder how most of my life, left to my own devices, I coped with OCD and anxiety, not knowing that I was different than the other kids. Today I am just happy that I know how to handle it. I am grateful that I am stronger because of it. 


Lots of love <3 Holly

It's Okay To Not Be Okay

Over the last seven years or so, I have changed in many ways. I don't believe that I am the same happy-go-lucky person that I used to be. I have a completely different perspective on life. I think a lot of that changed when my dad got sick and then again when my dad passed away. I think it also changed slowly as my migraines progressively got worse over time, and slowly as doctor after doctor tried treatment after treatment to no avail. 

As I look back to my younger, carefree self, I think about how I was always the "glass-half-full" kind of person. I was full of hope; I always saw the positive side to every situation, and I had hope in everything. Everything was going to be alright. Everything would work out for the best. Everything would be okay. 

I remember the time in my life I changed. At the diagnosis of my dad's illness, Glioblastoma Stage IV (brain tumor) stretching across the entire back of his brain, I still held on to the hope that by some miracle he would get better. I believed that he would respond to treatment. I believed that even though my 6'2" dad, who went from 220 pounds to 120 poumds in a matter of months would miraculously stand up and walk again. I believed that his memory would come back, his eye sight would come back, and he would quit telling us that he had to take a trip to Texas, but he could never come back. That was who I was then.

My dad and mom on their wedding day. 

I remember the day when I lost hope. I don't know what changed, but I just knew. I had this feeling inside. I knew my dad wasn't going to make it. It hit me like a ton of bricks, but I knew. That is when I changed. 

After my dad passed away, I was shell shocked for a long time. You never imagine something like that can happen to someone you love. My dad was only 51 years old. He had only lived half of his life. He had lived most of his life with multiple sclerosis so gracefully; it was extremely hard to see him live and die from this horrific disease. 

My heart ached. There was a hole there that took a long time to heal. Today, the hurt is not as bad. I don't feel the pain as raw or as deeply, but I do still get sad thinking about how much I wish he were here with me. I am infinitely in a better place than I was a few years ago, but I will always miss my dad. He is still with me, but it's hard not to have him here physically sharing life's milestones that he should not be missing. 

I have also struggled with my migraines since I was about 15 or 16 years old. Since that time in my life, they have only gotten worse, they have literally taken over a lot of my life. After going to different doctors, taking so many medications that I can't remember the names of them all, and again losing hope in the process, I can again say that I have lost that immediately positive outlook that I have always had. 

I used to, without a second thought, always turn a negative day around with a positive spin. Had a bad day? Well, at least I get to go home and cook dinner with Bjorn. Poured coffee down my shirt? Well, at least I get to see my students today. They make me happy (plus they'll tell me it doesn't look that bad!) 

I've found myself having trouble putting a positive spin on things lately. I think it's just my life experiences getting in the way. I find myself missing that happy-go-lucky, always smiling girl. I don't know where she went, but sure wish I could find her. I feel like she's in there somewhere; I just don't know how to dig her out from the rubble. 

This summer hasn't been tough for me, but it's been just a summer--nothing great and nothing too horrible. Just there, a filler really. I feel like I'm in limbo. I'm at the end of my rope with my migraine treatments. This summer I tried Botox for my migraines, and now I'm just playing the waiting game. My doctor wants me to wait three treatments to see if I get the full effects from it (9 months). That's a long time. I get it, but some days I want to scream, "Can we hurry it up already!" 

I also get sad some days that this is kind of my last serious option besides more medication with more side effects that make me miserable. What if this doesn't work? Am I doomed to have 17 migraines a month forever? How could I take care of a child with that many headaches? I don't do anything fun anymore. I feel miserable most days. I don't know how long I can do this; someone needs to come up with something!

This summer I've found myself feeling sad more than often. I just have realized I'm in uncharted territory. I don't know what's going to happen--good or bad. I'm just waiting. Waiting sucks. Thinking too much about it makes me sad. I had a good week of being hopeful, but that didn't last long. I am trying to find the strength to stay positive, but it's hard when you've had years of pain and treatments that don't work.

So this is what I've decided:

It's okay to not be okay. This is a journey. Thus is life. It has ups and downs. And let me tell you, my life the last few years has been a roller coaster. I can deal with it, but I don't have to be the same person who I was when I was twenty-four, twenty-one, or fifteen. I'm not. I like the happy side of me; right now I've got a lot going on. Uncertainty is hard to deal with, and that's okay. I'm giving myself permission to have okay and not okay days. Who says I can't? I'm going to take each day as it comes. If I'm anxious and dreading getting 31 needles stuck into my head, who cares? That's okay. If I'm missing my dad and want to have a good cry, that's okay too! I'm going to deal with my emotions as they come, but I'm not going to beat myself up about feeling down. Simply put: it's okay. 

A Shaky Start

I've always had a problem with time. Not managing time; I am a good manager of my time. I wish I could have more time in my life, many days, but don't we all? That's not my problem with time. My problem is an open schedule, too much time, nothing to do. It's funny because I can jam pack an hour with 15 mindless activities, but feel the need to complete every one because my OCD brain tells me that they are important. I am doing something; I'm moving; I'm working.  I have to be doing something important! 

Here is where my problem comes into play: those activities aren't always necessary and important. My brain creates silly things for me to do. Those "silly" things keep me from feeling guilty. They keep me from feeling overwhelmed and anxious. Guilty from not doing something "productive" in my OCD brains "eyes" (if it has them). Overwhelmed by not having a plan or a schedule in place, and anxious from the thought of not knowing what to do with myself--something feeling "off" (a huge OCD feeling). 

Here's where my problem begins: I love to pack my days full of work: school work, house work, tutoring, organizing, working on one of my projects that I can never seem to finish (OCD anyone?). And here is where my problem with time comes in: I don't know what to do with myself when I have too much of it on my hands.

My OCD starts getting me thinking that I always need to be doing something productive. I can't relax; I always feel like I need a plan. For example, if I feel like sitting on the couch all day to read a book, my mind starts reeling. My anxiety level might slowly start to creep up throughout the day. I am unable to sit still. I feel antsy. I get up and do "odd jobs" around the house because I feel like I have to. They do not, however, in any way ever amount to getting anything productive completed. I just feel like I'm accomplishing something. My brain tells me that I need to do something that's considered "work," so I get up and "work." 

Whether it's picking up the side table next to the couch, throwing in that next load of laundry, or starting to organize that junk drawer that I always said I would, I start doing something that my brain deems productive. My OCD brain doesn't consider relaxing, taking time for myself, and doing what I enjoy as productive activities. Once I finish my flurry of business, I look back and think, what  did I actually accomplish? In retrospect, I didn't seem to accomplish all that much. This is the trouble with my anxiety. It tricks me into feeling the need to be busy, although I don't need to be. I've realized over many years that the junk drawer can wait. 

My OCD starts to act up in situations like this when I have a long stretch of unstructured time on my hands (insert summer vacation), especially this year since I am not teaching summer camp. When faced with such a large amount of time without a predetermined plan to fill each hour or minute, for that matter, my OCD brain starts to feel guilty for wanting to do nothing. It feels guilty for wanting to relax and enjoy myself. It tells me that I can't do those things. It tells me that I'm being selfish.

Once my mind starts this loop, I start to feel uncomfortable in my skin. I get fidgety. I can't think straight. I can't focus. I can't do the things that I enjoy. My OCD brain tricks me into doing something else by bringing on these symptoms of anxiety: guilt, mid looping, the constant need to do something, the need to feel productive, shame, a racing heartbeat, feeling overheated, etc.

Last summer my anxiety was different. I had summer school to distract me. I had a planned vacation to distract me. The year before that I had classes to renew my teaching license to distract me. I have never had one entire summer off as a teacher. Ever. Maybe, OCD avoidance? 

One whole summer to myself. The thought is daunting. It intimidates my OCD, but I am going to tackle this summer just like I tackle my OCD and anxiety in the rest of my life because I want to enjoy this summer, dammit!

1) I am going to sit with the uncomfortable feelings of my anxiety. This is a given. I do this a lot. I am used to doing this. It's funny because I associate sitting through those panic attack-like feelings with negativity in my life--with difficult tasks, things I struggle with. It's funny to think that I need to sit with the anxiety attached to thoughts of having no plans and relaxation, but that's what I need to do!

2) Remind myself of my strategies that help: visualization, movement, choreographing dances in my mind to music once the anxiety hits, take my medication.

3) Remind myself that I do have a plan! It's just a relaxation plan! I do have things that I'd like to do: go to movies, read, play with the dogs, write, go the the zoo. I'm going to tape this list up so I can look at it. I have a plan to renew  and recharge myself this summer.

4) Remind myself that I need to take time for myself. I am important. I need to feel relaxed. I am embarking on a new headache journey (info to come soon), and I need all the help I can get!

5) I want to be happy. Doing things for myself helps me to be happy :)

It isn't always an easy road, but I'll get there. 

What are some of your favorite things to do for yourself to relax and recharge?

Love and happiness <3 Holly

I Don't Want to Puke!

As a person living with OCD, one of my biggest struggles is illness and germs. Not being sick per se, but being around sick people. Knowing that there are people walking around with seasoned germs, ready to attack my immune system, really gets my OCD going. When someone around me (I know and love) is sick, this sounds crazy, but it completely doesn't bother me. I'm okay with it. I want them to feel better. I try to help them if I can. I don't dwell on the fact that they are ill and could potentially pass on their germs to me that could eventually turn into a flesh-eating bacteria that eats all the skin off the fronts of my legs, so I could never ever again wear a dress without being self-conscious. But we all know, that's my OCD taking that one a little too far. I just deal with it, no undue OCD drama, and move on.

Germs, Eeww!

But that's the truth about my brain. My brain, my crazy, OCD brain, takes illness to a whole new level. Getting a virus can turn into becoming septic in 10 seconds. Seriously--that's how quickly OCD works. That, I cannot control. My brain just goes there; it always has. It doesn't help either that my mom is a nurse. (I know too much about medical terms, conditions, and illnesses.) 

I am also a teacher. This does not bode well for my OCD and my germ issues. However, over the years, I really don't even notice it anymore. I do have my bad days. My first year teaching, I did have a student throw up all over my feet. That was a little intense, to say the least.

Most of the time, when students are sick, I still give them a hug if they ask me to (because it will make them feel better) and test their forehead to see if they're feverish. I just remember to wipe my desks down regularly to keep down the spread of germs. Most of the time, illness doesn't bother me anymore.

The one time it sinks its talons into my brain is when it happens in my own home. Yesterday and today I am using two personal days to hang out with my hubby on spring break. We are both teachers and rarely have the same spring break. I think out of all the years we've been teaching, we've shared one spring break together. After having a rough spring break of my own with an onslaught of migraines, I decided to take two days off to have fun with the hubs during his time off. 

I was so excited! We had some great plans. It was going to be a blast! We were going to hang out at the Cincinnati Art Museum (our wedding venue), go to the zoo (if the weather ever turned a corner), go out to eat one night, and see a movie. These plans all changed when my poor hubby got a horrible stomach bug Wednesday night.

I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to my hubby looking pale as a ghost and telling me that he threw up all night. Just to give you an idea of what my OCD mind was thinking, I'll share the thoughts in my head at the time:

Aaaaagggghhhhhhh! I don't want to get sick!!! He looks awful! I need to help him! Oh, but the germs!!!!

Of course my initial reaction was that of any person whose husband just told her that he was sick all night. It wasn't until a few minutes later that my mind started racing with OCD thoughts. Bjorn and I snuggled on the couch last night! What if his germs are alive and well on the couch having a good ole' time waiting to throw my stomach for a literal loop. I don't want to get sick. I hate throwing up. How can I disinfect the couch? Can I wipe it down with Clorox wipes? I need to disinfect this whole house! Oh my gosh! How I am I going to get all that done? I'm going to be cleaning all day!

After I let my brain runs it crazy thoughts across the finish line, I took a deep breath, got ready to go get my hair done (I had an appointment already schedule yesterday), checked to make sure Bjorn was okay, got my hair done, let him sleep for awhile while I went to the thrift store, and then came home to take care of him. 

I washed some sheets. I made him some soup. I got him some Popsicles and some Gatorade. I even sat next to him in bed and we talked and watched TV for a little while. I didn't obsessively wash my hands. I didn't disinfect the couch. I did worry about getting sick. I did keep wondering when it was going to hit me. As the day went on, I was able to stop my OCD thoughts and just tell myself, "If it happens, it happens. There's nothing I can do about it." So far, I haven't gotten sick (fingers crossed, knock on wood).

Before being able to handle my OCD, I may have Clorox-wiped the couch. Who knows. I'm just glad that it has gotten easier. It isn't always easy, but the easy choice to make was to take care of my hubby because I love him.

I hope you feel better soon, my love. 


Love and happiness <3 Holly

A Hard Reality, But Going Somewhere

Sometimes along this journey of finding my happy, I sit and wonder, is this my happy? Sometimes bad days cloud my vision, and it's harder to see through the sad, the frustrated, and the unknown. 

Over the past few months, I have had a difficult time with my migraines. I have been on a new medication that makes me exhausted. I have no energy, and I don't feel like myself. I feel like, in a sense, I'm in this weird "waiting" place with my migraines. I'm waiting for something to work. Nothing has, and I'm just waiting for the next medication, the next suggestion, the next failure. I know that's a downer, but it's hard to stay positive sometimes. 

A Typical Migraine Night

I keep reminding myself that I am still doing other things that I love, even though I feel like I don't have my life together right now because I'm not feeling the greatest. I'm doing the best I can at the moment with the amount of headaches that I am having. I also realize that some treatments are going to affect me in adverse ways. 

My goal through all of this is to not place crazy expectations on myself.  If I feel exhausted, I need a break. Maybe I'll take a nap. And I'm not going to beat myself up about it. I'm not pushing myself until I fall over. I need to listen to my body and what is happening right now at this moment in time with my migraines. And right now, my body is telling me, "Whoa, Nelly! Take it easy!!" I am not going to feel guilty because I'm not doing all my usual activities at my usual pace. I'm going to talk to my new doctor when the time comes and roll with the punches. 

This is a reminder to myself that happiness is what I make of it. It is not an expectation set by my anxiety or my OCD:

Shades of Gray

Happiness is black and white with gray around the edges

swirled together like cold milk stirred into a steaming cup of coffee.

Sometimes it's circles of orange, yellow, gold, and red

bobbing across a crisp, ocean blue sky 

radiating heat and fearless energy.

Other times it's mauve polka dots and pale green stripes

riding in and out on the breeze

bringing along a cool sense of calm.

It’s up and down.

It’s stitched and unstitched.

It’s sure and then unsure.

It’s second guessing.

It's always wanting to be somewhere,

but not sure if you’re there yet.

Am I there yet?

Am I there yet?

Soon the asking gets old.

The mind

trained to question again and again

over and over

on repeat

until you realize: 

happiness is black and white with gray around the edges.

I'm in this for the long haul.

Love and happines <3 Holly

How To Be Happy #1: Music and Dancing

Have you ever had "one of those days" and just needed a pick me up? A lot of those days, I find myself turning to my favorite music to give me an energy boost or an emotional outlet for what I'm feeling. I really feel connected to artists, their music, and their lyrics. It is a great outlet for me and my anxiety. It always has been. Take today, for example. I was feeling quite "off" and tired after taking a nap this afternoon. I needed a "pick-me-up," so I put on an up-beat song that I love (Casey Abrams "Simple Life") and had a short little jam-out fest on the couch.

Throughout my life, I have always been a dancer. I've danced since I was two years old. Dancing has always been a way for me to put my emotions and my anxiety out on the table in an honest, yet safe way. I could leave my emotions out on the floor, feel what the music made me feel, spend all my energy out there, and I didn't have to tell anyone why I was so emotional during my dance. Why could I leave everything out on the stage? That's who dancers are. I truly did feel the dance and the music, but it was what was behind the music that really gave me that push to dance with so much feeling and emotion.

When you're dancing, you're telling a story, speaking with your body. You want your audience to feel what you're feeling, to understand what you're saying, to hang on your every movement. You become a good storyteller. You learn to become vulnerable emotionally. It's funny that I could always be this way through dance, but not in real face-to-face life all the time. It's so much harder for me. Dancing is my comfort zone. Maybe because I can become someone else when I dance and just tell people a story. It doesn't necessarily have to be my story. I just use what I know to pull from when I dance. 

Dance has always been a HUGE outlet for me. It still is in different ways. I don't dance as extensively as I used to. I don't really do ballet anymore, expect some barre work I do at home every now and then. I Zumba. I salsa. I hustle. I just started to waltz. I hip hop. I dance while I cook.

But the other huge part of my emotional release that goes along with dancing is music. I remember sitting in my room as a teenager and listening to all kinds of different music. Even when I was little. I would record songs off the radio and make mix tapes. I would put different music on, depending on how I felt at the time. I was really into Broadway music when I was younger. I just loved the stories, the rawness, of human lives, of the stories the Broadway shows told. My favorite was always Miss Saigon.

To this day, music and dancing are still a huge part of my life. Listening to good music on the way to work can put me in a good mood for the day. When I'm sad, listening to songs that touch my heart and soul really help me to work through my emotions. At school, my students and I listen to all kinds of music while they work, depending on their mood that day.

Jazz Hands

Without dance and music, I don't know where I'd be because they both are a huge part of my life. They keep be centered and balanced. They help me keep in touch with my emotions. They keep me sane. 

Working out (dancing) helps to keep my anxiety at bay. Belting out a great tune in the car can get my mind off of my OCD loop. 

One of my strategies for lowering my anxiety is to close my eyes while listening to a song and choreograph a dance to that song in my head. In that moment, I am not thinking about anything about the feel of the music, the words in the music, and myself dancing in my head. It really works. It takes my mind off whatever is, at the time, plaguing my anxiety.

I'd like to share with you some songs that I love to listen to in different situations. No matter how I'm feeling, listening to music makes me happy.

If I'm having a low key day and am just feeling like I need to release some sadness or anxiety or I am tired from dealing with anxiety, I tend to play low-key music. Quiet, calming muisc, sometimes with deep lyrics. Contemplating music. Here are a few I've been listening too lately:

Contemplating Music:

Birdy, "Winter Hymnal"

R.E.M, "Daysleeper"

Rufus Wainwright, "Poses"

Suzie McNeil, "Broken and Beautiful"

Amos Lee, "Arms of a Woman"

Harry Connick Jr., "Hear Me in the Harmony"

If I need a boost of energy, I play some high energy, uplifting, upbeat or happy music. Sometimes it's not uplifting either. It can be angry music that just makes me feel ready to tackle the day too! Here are a few I've been listening too lately:

Upbeat Music

V V Brown, "Shark in the Water"

Beyonce, "Countdown"

Sara Bareilles, "Brave"

ZZ Ward, "Til the Casket Drops"

Paul Simon, "You Can Call Me Al"

Do you have any songs that you've been listening to lately that either help give you energy or help you work through your emotions? If so, leave a comment below! I <3 comments!!

Love and happiness <3 Holly