these are the cute shoes

The last shoe photo on my blog garnered many positive comments, so I can only imagine many of you are wondering, "what are those cute shoes Dawn referred to in her last post?"

Well, let me show and tell. My new favorite shoe brand is Seychelles. I've almost worn out my pointy toed red flats I bought this summer; here are my new khaki green wedgies.

progress?

Did you know...

"In 1986, EPILADY launched the first electric hair remover, pioneering the most significant revolution ever in the market of hair removal."

This is relevant, why?

Because as a sophomore in college, I remember ranting at Edwin, my boyfriend's roommate, because he had an ad for EPILADY hanging on his side of the dorm room: "You realize that picture on your wall is an ad that promotes the idea that women should tear their hair out at the roots! Can you imagine what that would feel like? Can you imaging doing that to yourself?"

I suspect he was interested in the blond-in-a-bathing suit in the ad, and not the actual hair removal product.

This was Dawn, feminist, circa 1989.

Dawn, feminist, circa 2007, believes that women who choose to wear uncomfortable shoes that make their legs look great are not mindless victims of the patriarchy (though she might save those shoes for special occasions without much walking involved, and is in fact, at this minute, wearing wedge heels that are both adorable and comfortable). She also believes that the way one chooses to dress can be an act of self and artistic expression, while also acknowledging that our cultural definitions of beauty are often unfortunately limited.

The main thing I want to say here is that last night, Dawn, feminist, circa 2007, ripped out (at the roots) her own stray eyebrow hairs with an at home waxing kit. This eyebrow experience was very painful, but I will probably do it again because in the few times I've had this done at a salon, they always take off more than I want. So imagine, it's kind of like pulling off a band-aid, but more painful. I was not capable of doing it quickly; maybe next time, I'll work up more courage.

So I acknowledge I may have been brainwashed as far as eyebrows are concerned. On the various makeover shows I deeply enjoy (I believe in the power of personal transformation -- though I DO NOT watch shows that involve plastic surgery), it's clear that the shape of one's eyebrows makes a big difference in one's appearance -- and this is true for both men and women.

The "Eyebrow King," Damone Roberts, believes "every person is beautiful in his or her own way, but does note that 90 percent of all women have the wrong brows for their facial structure. Damone says, 'It's the most underestimated important feature on the face.'"

I encourage you to read Damone's bio here. He really is called the "Eyebrow King," and "his work has been recognized in Vogue, In Style, USA Today, US Weekly, The Wall Street Journal, Cosmopolitan, Essence, Good Housekeeping, Allure, Newsweek and countless others."

The Wall Street Journal?

One last thought...though a 10X magnification mirror can be helpful when grooming, always remember that objects are in fact 10 TIMES LARGER than they appear. Check in with your regular old vanity mirror before taking any drastic measures.

discernment, passion, etc.

God is endlessly imaginative, and the function of discernment is to enter creatively into God's vision for the world and to collaborate with the Spirit in making that vision a reality. -- David Lonsdale, 20th century English Jesuit writer

This quote began my church newsletter for March, and I like it very much because I feel like it gets at the balance between God's will and the responsibility of an individual to participate in the act of creation -- creating relationships, art, peace, fill-in-your-desires here.

Another take on this idea is that when you are fulfilling God's vision for your life, you feel deep joy. I have experienced this feeling, and it has been true for me. Perhaps because I've spent a lot of my life caught up in other's expectations of me, this ringing true, full-body joy is incredibly important to me.

It's important for me to say joy, and not happiness, because I am often quite scared and fraught as I take these journeys. I wish it was easier. Actually, it's the showing up that is hard. The actual work tends to be quite wonderful.

getting a grip

B. and I have been talking about producing an animated documentary about bipolar disorder for about a year now.

Yesterday, we met and actually put ideas on paper!

I was gripped by anxiety for and aft. But I broke the process down step by step (get out of bed. take a shower. eat cereal, drink coffee. get dressed. get stuff together. get in car. get over the fact that you are an hour late. call B. and make sure it's ok that you are going to be late. etc.).

I think the anxiety and insomnia I've been dealing with lately has something to do with actually feeling fearsome feeling, rather than shoving them down. It is my sincere hope that ultimately, hanging out with the hard stuff (which includes both difficult and very pleasurable emotions) will lead to a more of an integrated Dawn, better to handle moods and strong emotions.

Shoving down, squelching, swallowing, however you want to put it -- leads to exhaustion, sadness, and difficulty taking in -- really getting on a gut level -- my accomplishments, contributions to the universe, etc.

SO...the main point of this post is, we did it! We took an important step forward. The anxiety, however sucky it was to experience, didn't stop me from showing up.

Wow!

gratitude

Last July, I wrote a blog entry called "Ugly Thoughts" (click on "Ugly Thoughts" to read it, if you want to).

It involved my time on a selection committee for the Hines Fellowship, and being kind of jealous of the four young women who were receiving the opportunity to travel internationally and domestically to do documentary work with organizations that focus on children.

We're in the selection process again, and I'm just grateful that I've apparently gotten my sense of possibility back into place. I'm unstuck, which is great. I'm not feeling jealous anymore, but inspired.

What do I want to do? It's a fun question, and I have lots of ideas...stay tuned!

What Actually Happened on Ash Wednesday

Through a perfect storm of work craziness, tiredness, and a state of anxiety due to hunger (writing those down, I see themes emerging as far as emotional vulnerability is concerned), I missed my DBT group session yesterday. DBT is short for Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, a combination of group and individuals sessions that teach skills to help manage emotions, negotiate life in very practical ways, and basically, to thrive in the world as a sensitive person (or you could say, “a person who struggles with a mood disorder of one kind or another”). One of the therapists says that she wants us to become “sturdier.” The fact that I missed a session is kind of a big deal because you're "allowed" four absences in the fourteen month program – after that, you have to pay the $50 per session whether you show up or not. So I think it’s ironic that I missed the session by failing to use the skills I’m trying to practice in the group.

A little before 6 p.m. I managed pull myself into the present moment, and made the decision to miss the last 30 minutes of the DBT group in order arrive at the Ash Wednesday service on time. I arrived a few moments after 6 p.m., only to find that the service didn’t start until 7 p.m.

There’s a chapel at Calvary, small-ish, that I like quite a lot. There is an altar with lots of candles, so I lit one, closed the door, and set my phone to go off in thirty minutes. For the first time in a while, I was able to meditate.

Sitting on the floor of the chapel with my legs crossed, I focused on the candle flame. First I could feel my body gradually coming into itself. Legs connected to floor. I felt balanced, comfortable with my legs crossed, leaning back a little. I could feel the tension in my back, arms, and shoulders.

At the meditation retreat I attended over New Year’s, I cornered the (amazing, wonderful) instructor and asked, “Really, no, really. What does a peaceful mind look like? What am I trying to do?” She took my question seriously, and the most helpful thing she said was, “You may have to come back to your breathing 10 times, 100 times, a 100,000 times. The meditation is the spaces between the times you remember to come back.”

With her permission to fail/succeed a 100,000 times, I felt the freedom to explore meditation, and felt less frustrated, less wrong.

So the meditating in the Chapel was good. There were moments of stillness, quiet. There’s a great quote (source unknown) that goes: “If you’re busy, meditate. If you’re really busy, meditate more.”

I have less to say about the actual service, except that the scripture included one Psalm 51, one of my favorites:

Create in me a clean heart, O God;
and renew a right spirit within me.

Though it leads up to a dark time in the Christian calendar I like Lent. It’s popular to skip Christ-on-the-Cross and jump straight to the bunnies and baby chicks of Easter, but that doesn’t seem authentic to me. And my world gets muddy, frantic, so time to focus on the spirit, on God’s will for me in the world, is a good thing.

So with the grit of mortality on my forehead, I entered the next forty days (not counting Sundays).

Lenten Promises/Gifts

This year, my Lenten promise is no unnecessary purchases of things. Movies ok. Food ok. Clothing, accessories, books, music -- not ok. (This isn't a judgement against consumerism, it's just something that feels right for me to do right now. I'm having money anxiety, and I tend to shop as a way of avoiding feelings.) I understand Lent as a time to come closer to God, and the thing/thoughts/etc. that you "give up" are in the spirit of making more room for contemplation, quiet, etc. Not to give up things that are "bad" for you.

So this evening I'll go get ashes smudges on my forehead. Since I didn't grow up as a Christian, the meaning of such rituals (and this includes communion -- which is an intense and moving ceremony for me) don't necessarily make sense in an intellectual way (Not that I don't get the ashes to ashes thing). Sometimes, like this evening, I'll show up open to the experience, and see what happens.

I receive daily emails from "The Upper Room," with Bible passages and pithy reflections from various sources). Here's today's scripture reading...

Return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts, and not your clothing.
- Joel 2:12-13 (NRSV)

"Rend your hearts, but not your CLOTHING."

So smart. It's Lent and all, but why wreck a perfectly good outfit?

you can't fool sleep

Being bipolar girl, I tend to pull off large projects -- in my case, events involving lots of planning and people -- with huge pushes towards the end.

I've learned how incredibly necessary it is that I work with people who break down things into time-lines, who think about deadlines before the drop-dead deadline, and frankly, folks who can hold it together if I can't get into work on a particular day because I'm plastered to my bed with anxiety and depression...

I also have learned over time that if I plan ahead, I can get help. I can delegate. I can empower people to do their thing. I have, I believe, become a much better micromanager over time (meaning, I micromanage less). Working with people I trust, not only do events/projects/etc. generally turn out better (sometimes wildly, imaginatively, qualitatively, quantitatively, better), but these successes plant a hope that some day, I'll be able to start a five day or eight day event feeling, well, rested (or well-rested).

I could talk more about functioning at work as bipolar girl, but now, at 11:43 a.m., with an early start tomorrow, let me tell you THIS:

After numerous nights staying up (not just up, but in the office) until 2-3-4 a.m., my bones aches. My brain's fuzzy. My body vibrates (not in a good way). I feel fragile -- physically and emotionally. On my way to the car today, I tripped and fell -- and let me tell you, there's nothing like hitting concrete so hard you tinkle that makes you feel happening and in control.

Now, I'm going to get a good night of sleep tonight (6.5 hours!). And for the next few days, I'll take deep breaths, and even when I have to perform my public self in front of a crowd, I'll dip into the well of whatever has allowed me to move through rough/shaky feelings and (ta-da!) *shine* for most of my life.

I love my job, especially the part of my job that involves all these people who are passionate about documentary work coming to learn new stuff. I want to change so that I can more fully appreciate how much fun it is, so that I can address the hard work with a rested self, and feel full at the end. I want to be able to enjoy how good I am at what I do.

You can't fool sleep, because if you could, I would do it. I've tried, tried, and tried again. Bipolar girl can't mess around. It's dangerous. It sets me up big-time for a crash. I need eight or nine hours. That's my goal for tomorrow night.

'night...

she walked back into the room quietly

I was talking to a dear friend about struggling with the times in my life when I just can't get things done the way I want to, and how shaming and awful it feels when my inability to get work done negatively impacts those around me. How hard it is to know that I'm making someone else's life more difficult, even as I get on some level that I'm doing the best that I can while struggling with depression, anxiety, etc.

I don't know how you do it, she said.

Well, I said, I have a lot of very compassionate people around me. A lot of care, a lot of support.

And then I paused. This was a friend that I could risk being honest with.

And will, I said. Force of will. And it's ironic, because for so long -- fifteen years or more -- I thought, if you just try harder, you'll be ok. You are not trying hard enough. But by some gift of grace, I can see now that another reason I'm ok -- functioning in the world, more or less -- is that I have been trying so hard.

My friend affirmed, that yes, it is also you, trying so hard.

May I please state for the record that I'm tired? I'm working so hard at the moment to get better -- in group therapy, regular therapy, being vigilant about my meds, etc. etc. -- because I have hope that there is way for me to be in the world that doesn't require that I work quite so hard.

It's not that I'm afraid of hard work -- it's part of my identity, this idea that I work hard. But I desire a new struggle, something that feels different. Fresh. Not these stinky bedclothes of depression, anxiety, and mania, oh my.

shoes make me happy

I was just reading another blog and the author put a picture of a pair of her new shoes on her site, and since I'm wearing my fancy new shoes today, I'm posting two different views on my blog. Please notice how fantastically well they match my jacket while not yet being too matchy.

And yes, I'm hiding my face behind the shoe. I'm holding off on posting a picture of myself for the time being. Not sure why, because it's not like I'm keeping much to myself.

Oh -- it's interesting to me who reads my blog. Like, A., who technically works for me, but in reality (and maybe this just makes me more comfortable to think this way) works with me, said to me the other day, "If your boss had a blog, wouldn't you read it?" Yes, indeed, I would. She later said that she liked it, really.

One last thing. I'm struggling much with the whole being present thing. I went to swim today, and realized that I'd swam eight laps before I remembered I was in a pool. Meaning, my mind was racing about all the things it was racing about in the office, and it took that long to even notice that I wasn't noticing where I was. You know, in water. Thankfully, I can swim on automatic, though I did try to focus more on the experience of moving through water for the rest of my swim.

Enjoy the shoes.