I'll Stick Around

I took a little hiatus to attend Bottlerock this weekend. It did wonders for my head and heart. I was insanely lucky and blessed to have had such an experience.

Music makes my soul fly. When it is live, the feeling is 100 fold.  It reminds me that even though there are hard days, there are also blissful ones to pursue.

On day one I got to do a Meet Greet with Silversun Pickups and Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. I then got to see half a dozen bands perform on different stages - Saint Motel, Fitz and the Tantrums (I met the singer later that weekend) Galactic, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and Maroon Five.

Day two I did a Meet & Greet with Michael Franti. He was the most genuine artist I have ever met. He came out to sing the group a song and then insisted we take a group photo. When we lined up for our solo shots, I waited until everyone had gone and asked him if he would mind hugging me in the photo (he hugged everyone, then posed them with his guitar). I just wanted to melt into him. When the shot was done, I said "I don't want to let go" and he replied "me either" so we just stayed like that another thirty seconds. I let go before the security team swept in. 

I saw Andra Day, Michael Franti and Spearhead, and Tom Petty. In between shows I hung out with Jessica Childress, Michael F et al., and met dozens of really lovely people who went out of their way to make conversation with the lady who was possibly the one of the few flying solo there. 

Day THREE! I went early and started the day off with The Helmets, a group of four boys between the ages of 12 and 15 playing metal just like their fathers do! They were hard! I ran to another stage to see Arizona and then back to the main stage to see Cobi (dear lord he is beautiful and brilliant). Then Gavin Degraw, Live, Band of Horses! It was gorgeous. I snuck out at one point to do a Meet & Greet with Gavin Degraw who was very charming and tried to lean his head into mine for the photo before it dawned on him that the brim of his hat was knocking me in my head. 

Then the unthinkable happened. While holding a front rail spot, waiting for the Sunday night headliner, one of the women I made friends with who worked the festival grabbed me and asked if I wanted to meet the Foo Fighters. The FUCKING FF's! The one band I was willing to stand in the blazing sun for 4 hours just to claim a front row seat. She promised I would get my place back and dragged me out. I have had dreams about this before. I had briefly met the drummer once but now I was going to get to hang out with the whole band. My poor little heart was fluttering like a hummingbird.

I walk back to the artist area with seven other people. We are all giddy and acting like 16-year-olds. They bring us into the Foo's private area and put us in a little area. We mill around like cattle waiting for the band to arrive. I decide to sit down and do a little meditation so I don't come across like a crazed fan (which I am) and then I see Dave, Pat, Chris, Taylor, Nate, and Rami. I am in the far corner watching them walk in, unsure what to do.  Pat walks straight over to me, puts out his hand and introduces himself. We shake hands and he smiles at me, asks me if I am feeling a little nervous, and when I say, a little, he tells me to put my head on his shoulder. I do. Then he asks if I am feeling better, I AM!

All the other band members come over to us and introduce themselves to me. They are sweet and funny. We chat about shows I have attended and how excited they are to perform after a two-year break.  Other commoners (like myself) meander over and I decide that if I am going to actually say more than hello to Dave, I am going to have to go to him.

I walk over and lean in on a conversation he is having with a lovely couple from Virgina. I wait until he is done and he turns and runs right into me (I was basically blocking his way, on purpose.) Here it the transcript of our conversation:

D: Oh, hello (handshake) I am Dave

K: Hello, I am Kimberly, nice to meet you

D: Nice to meet you, thank you for coming

K: Thank you for having me

D: Shall we take our picture?

K: Let's

I am positive I made a HUGE impression on him with my wit and sassy conversational skills.

I am first in line to get my photo taken. I had made a deal with Pat to stand between him and Dave because I am so tall and they are the two tallest band members but somehow I am standing in front of all of them, they are arm in arm, and I have nowhere to go so I flex my muscles in front of the band (to the applause and quiet cheers of those watching) and SNAP, the photo is taken. As I am turning to thank them, I accidentally semi-punch Taylor and the face. Yep...me in a nutshell. Taylor said, "geez, thanks." To which I reply, "I tried to warn you, I am an Amazon!"

We are all ushered back to our original places in the front row and then I wait. I wait to see one of my favorite bands of all time come on stage and tear it up. And they deliver. They played for two straight hours. Song after song, the crowd sings along. Dave sang and screamed and told stories in between. It was a perfect show.

At three minutes to 10 PM (noise ordinance curfew for Napa) they broke into Everlong, their last song. At 10 on the dot, they venue cut the sound. The band didn't miss a beat and the crowd sang at the top of our lungs through the end of the song. For me, it was perfect.

I walked out of there on a music high that has stayed with me. I will never forget the day I punched a Foo Fighter. Bliss.

xoks

PS - I am really tired so forgive my rambling writing patterns.

No Rain

Dear chubby 8-year-old,

I hardly know what to say to you. You were so well developed by your surroundings. I always thought that you arrived much earlier in my life. I always saw myself as a gigantic 2 year-old that no one could lift so no one could hold comfortably in their arms. 

Food was a huge comfort for us. While we were always emotionally expressive, the harder emotional times would lead us to eat anything that made us feel better. It felt both safe and rebellious. Especially since society was in our face telling us how important it was to be thin and beautiful.

So many of the people around us rejected, criticized and taunted us for being over-weight. They told us we lacked self-control. We lacked pride in ourself. We would never fit in, never be liked, never achieve anything in life because we were fat. Our physical appearance was more important than our mind or our heart. We believed them.

I have carried you with me for almost 40 years. I have starved myself to fit in. I spent years isolating and being self-critical for not being beautiful enough because my body was never "perfect". Even at my thinnest, it wasn't enough. I didn't have hips, big breasts or an ass (that never changes at any weight for my build.) We never achieved "perfect" because there is no such fucking thing. 

So to the chubby little 8 year-old pumpkin, I bid you farewell. I no longer want us judging ourself for the shape of our body. I want to find beauty and peace in our skin. I want to let go of all the mistreatment we encountered growing up as a result of not embracing what others thought we should look like. I want you, in particular, to know you were as perfect as any other little 8 year-old out there and let all the shaming wash away.

Welcome little one to our adventure of loving us just the way we are.

xoks

I Love You, Goodbye

My therapist has given me yet another homework assignment (thanks Kat!) I am to write farewell letters to the parts of me that are no longer useful and/or that never belonged in the first place. Since this is where I do all my writing, my next few posts might be even more of a downer than usual (How is that possible you ask? Wait and see.)

Dear unloveable four year old,

There is nothing a child can do that makes them unworthy of love. All children, even the rotten ones, deserve to feel and be loved. You did nothing wrong. You were sensitive, vulnerable, afraid and lonely. You tried everything to make it known that all you wanted was to be safe and noticed. You craved the affection and attention of your father who wasn't available to give you that. As a result, you felt unworthy of anything resembling love. This simply wasn't true. You were and are very loved. However, it is time for you to go. I must embrace the sensitive side of me without being punitive with myself. I will sometimes be vulnerable, afraid and lonely, but the person I need to be today will be able to take care of me even in the darkest of times. 

I want to thank you for being a sweet, loving little pain in the ass, but I am moving on without you.

xoks

DOA

Living with depression is a very complicated thing. People, for the most part, do not understand what it is like to suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. There are many kinds of depression; Episodic, which usually lasts a few weeks, Chronic, which might last as long as two years, and Major, which lasts two years or more. That last one is my baby. I have suffered from depression (mild to extreme) for as long as I can remember. 

I have tried many types of medication and therapy. I believe those things kept me alive all these years. When seven plus years ago I bottomed out I tried new meds and intensive therapeutic treatment. Again, it was enough to keep me going. In the past few months, when the wave rode over me again, I turned to KIT. This has by far been the most successful treatment I have used. However, as much as I had hoped it would just be the six sessions and I would be "cured", I believe now that it is likely I will be using monthly boosters for the near future.

My depression is a sneaky little thing. I feel fine one moment, and without noticing any trigger, I can become overwhelmed with feelings of sadness. I can have spent an amazing evening with friends, yet when falling asleep, my mind starts writing suicide notes all on its own. Do any of you do that? Fall asleep thinking about the last thing you want to say to people? It's fucking disturbing.

When thinking about the loss of Chris Cornell last week, I tried to imagine what might have been going on in his head. How easy it is to become overwhelmed with grief and to want it to stop. People say it is a terribly selfish thing to do, to take one's life. I hope they never have to feel what it is like to think there is no other way to stop the pain. It isn't selfish, it's freedom to them. 

I am not giving up. There are days when the idea seems reasonable. When all I want to do is fall asleep and not wake up. When I feel like I will cry myself to death over the smallest of things or nothing at all. But there are things I want to experience, demons I want to slay, people I want to love, places I want to go. When I blog about my depression, it is not a cry for help or a threat that I am falling. This is one way for me to process my feelings remind myself that some days are simply harder than others but that there are still beautiful moments ahead of me.

xoks

End Over End

"Maybe I just feel too much"

Empathy is a blessing and a curse. Cliche, I know, but true. When you haven't learned proper boundaries or developed tools to assist you in protecting yourself it can become unmanageable. This is one of the many reasons I spend so much time alone. Sometimes I can't handle all the feelings rushing around and through me. 

I am exhausted today. I have a grief hangover. I want to be in my bed, record player blasting, snuggling The Criminals. I want the weight of my comforter wrapped around me, soothing my tired body and mind. I want to talk about nothing with my friends on the phone like I did when I was 15. I want the world to slow the fuck down. I need some rest.

xoks

The Criminals

Fell On Black Days

I attended a show last night with a good friend. As we waited to go inside, he teased me about all my musician crushes. Eddie Vedder, Dave Grohl, Chris Cornell. I told him that Chris was my one true love and that, was he not married with two kids, I would stalk him until he married me. That made my friend laugh; little does he know me.

This morning I woke up to the news that Chris had died. I sat in shock for a moment then went to read every article I could find. As soon as I saw that they suspect that he committed suicide I lost it. My heart broke. I felt like throwing up. In the middle of mental health awareness month, one of my icons committed suicide. A few months ago I was in his shoes in my depression.

Chris was a husband, a father of two children, a rock legend. He had been sober for years. He was respected, loved, admired and had "everything" to live for, and yet, in the end, his demons won. 

I want to remind everyone how important it is to destigmatize depression and other forms of mental illness. There are so many people suffering in silence, so close to the edge, and we need to do more to bring light to the subject and help those in need. 

If someone who seemed to have it all can hide their pain so well that one day they are tweeting about how amazing life is and that night end it, it is painfully clear that we as loving people, must step up and reach out.

Sleep peacefully, my friend

xoks

Heavy In Your Arms

We are all a little mad here. It is nearly impossible not to be at least a bit broken. Generationally I believe that we are working to raise children better than ourselves; not an easy task. I watch my friends do their very best to avoid passing on their brand of kooky to their little ones. My mother certainly tried. I don't think my father was even aware that it might be necessary to change his behavior so as not to leave his kids with wounds. He did better with his boys than his girls. That much is clear as I see those boys excelling in life in a way I can't.

The bottom line for me, I can be a heavy heart to carry. I am passionate, I love intensely and deeply. I am easily wounded and can strike out when feeling defensive. I can find many reasons to push you away if I am afraid. I have boundaries that I will set and then allow you to roll right over them with your kindness and excuses. I am highly independent but also needy. I have this True Romance, Princess Bride kind of fantasy that is simply unachievable in real life.Yet I keep trying.

I want something different for myself. I want to live outside of fantasy and feel satisfied and fulfilled with a close connection. I don't want to give up passion, great sex or real intimacy. I want to meet someone whose crazy matches mine but that means finding someone who is ready to admit to their kind of crazy and most men I have met refuse to even acknowledge their flaws. I think they feel like it is a sign of weakness. I think it is a sign of real strength.

I am flawed, I have been damaged, I own my crazy. I am human.

xoks

Fireproof

Here's the thing, you never know how you are going to feel from day to day. Yesterday was a roller-coaster of emotions ranging from pleasantly happy to a tearful commute home. Thankfully I was already off the freeway when it hit me.

My last EMDR session left me with this one nagging feeling; I am unlovable. At least I believe that I am unlovable. Some would say that isn't true. That they love me deeply and that I am easy to love. I appreciate that they feel that way; unfortunately, it doesn't change this core belief inside of me.

The times that I have felt loved have been in relationships. I have allowed others to validate that I am a lovable person. And when they leave, I am again, unlovable. How fucked up is that? How does anyone who relies on another person to feel loved learn to love themselves? I am not going to the top of the mountain to chant, I am not sitting in a drumming circle, I am not sweating it out in a Shamans tent. I am not trying to make fun of people who find their paths any way that they can; it just isn't who I am. 

I don't know how to reconcile with a core trauma. How to shift the balance in my best interest. I believe that loving oneself (to the best of our ability) is key to being truly happy. As I cried in my driveway I became angry that I am this old and still haven't learned what every child should be taught from the day they are born; every creature is lovable in their own way. I simply haven't discovered in what way that is for me.

xoks

Break It Down Again

Been remiss in writing the last few days. I have been very busy between work and, umm, work...

It is clear that the last KIT was really good for me. It was the exact lift I needed to stay positive and in motion. I have no problem making the treatment a regular every 4-6 weeks addition to my therapy routine. The effects are profound and delightful.

I have recently begun EMDR. It is possibly the most intense therapy I have ever participated in. Without fail, I find myself lightly crying after each stimulation set as I discuss what I am noticing. Images, memories, and thoughts come quickly and at times it is very hard to articulate back to my therapist what has happened during stimulation. However, it is moving very quickly and at times, painfully, into darker tunnels that I need to discover. In all honesty, I am both excited and scared. Pandora's box, you know?

Yesterday I visited my previous employer. I love popping in to say hello to past co-workers and hearing about what is new with both the company and in their lives. While chatting with one person, she gave me a really big hug and said: "I have been reading your blog." I replied with "oh?" and then "OH!". My immediate gut reaction was that the woman - who is very high-functioning and successful - likely thought less of me due to my mental health issues. I assumed that she was shaming me. The reality of the situation was that she was letting me know that she cared, that she supported me and that she thought I was brave to share my story. I have to constantly remind myself that putting my issues out here, for anyone to read, doesn't automatically mean that the people who read it will shun me. That most, in fact, will show their love, sympathy, and understanding. This is the world I want to live in. 

Some people ask, "where have you been?"
My answer short, "I've been within"
And if they nod and walk away
They do not hear the words I say

xoks

Dependin' On You

Happy Birthday to my amazing mother. She reminds me daily of what love is all about. Thank you for always showing up and reminding me that I am worth it. 

xoks

Only If For A Night

I am five days post my 7th KIT. It has been a little bit less familiar or steady. Small hits of anxiety out of nowhere. Manageable. Foursquare breathing, feet on the ground, what can I see, smell, hear, feel? 

Where I am struggling is adding additional techniques into my life. I hate exercise, always have. I like to eat what I want to eat. I am a skeptic so anything that feels too touchy-feely, hippy, new ageish instantly makes me growl like a wolf to ward it off. No idea why I am so reticent (resentful?) around the idea of meditation, energy, crystal work, or what not. I have done small amounts of meditation and it has felt very good, yet, like any hobby I take up, I stop very quickly after stopping. 

I have all these people in my life who enjoy SO many things. I like sleeping, smoking, eating, drinking (which I haven't done in months) reading, live music, sex, Netflix, and Amazon Prime. I am a simple girl. I wish I could find just one additional thing that I LOVE that also included leaving my house a few times a week. I am going to purchase a few single classes to see if anything sticks. Music can't be the only reason to get out of bed...

xoks

Love Is The Drug

This past Saturday I had my first booster since my initial six treatments. It was intense. While going through infusions every two days, you are building up K in your system, so while the experience is wild, you are sort of prepared. Not so much when it's been over a month and you get your top dose. 110 mgs and I was in a new world.

That being said, it was a beautiful place. I felt safe there. The processing in my head was very different than other times but it was also refreshing. It focused a lot on me as an individual. On the fact that if I am going to stick around, I need to be of use to other people in pain. That my job here isn't done.

The other main thought was that I didn't truly miss any of my previous partners. What I missed was the attention, the sex, the affection, the promises, the fantasy. That isn't to say that the men in my life weren't worth the time we spent together, most of them absolutely were, but I am not sure I have met a partner who was on the same path or shared the same long-term desires that I have. The chemicals between us were just not enough. 

xoks