Celebrate the Victories!

On the morning of my bus ride to Pai I woke up very anxious. The ride from Chiang Mai consists of 762 curves and I had heard that many people get sick, both because of the curves and the fast driving of the minibus drivers. Now, being sick is not something that worries me, but getting sick in front of other people was a terrifying and humiliating thought.

An unfortunate part of my anxiety is that it often mimics what I'm afraid of, so, naturally, I spent the morning feeling queasy. My nerves motivated me to be well prepared, though. The night before I purchased motion sickness meds, which I made sure to take half an hour before I left. I woke up nice and early so I could eat a good breakfast as I decided to skip lunch and bring a plastic bag, you know, just in case. I also chugged a bunch of water in the morning, as I anticipated rationing my water intake in the hours before my departure in order to avoid another deep fear: having to pee mid-ride.

I was told to arrive 30 minutes early, so naturally I was 50 minutes early. Anxiously I sat and read, which meant I read the same paragraph over and over. I waited until the last minute and went to the bathroom one last time and finally felt ready. The minibus showed up and I thanked my lucky stars there was a seat left next to a window.

As we started out I immediately felt nauseous, which I knew was nerves because the roads were still straight. The first part of the journey stayed straight like that and, oddly enough, that was the hardest part for me. I continued my inner struggle as I tried to figure out if I was actually sick or not and obsessing over where I should look. Maybe I should look out the front window and stare straight ahead, or maybe it's better if I look out the side window and keep finding a focus point, or it might help if I stare at something in the bus... nope that feels weird. I definitely shouldn't read. Don't look at your phone, don't look at your phone, don't do it! After about 45 minutes, I put in my earbuds and began to calm down (and decided that I almost certainly probably wasn't sick, I thought).

Then we began to get into the curvy hills. Up until this point our driver was going pretty fast and the curves didn't seem to slow him down much. Surprisingly, I got very giddy and thought, "weeeeee." Anytime he began to slow down, I thought, "faster, faster." Instantly all my fears of getting sick were replaced by peer joy. Every curve was a welcomed challenge as I braced myself to stay in my seat. It was exhilarating! I spent the next 3 hours blasting music, hanging on, and hoping the ride would never end.

The whole experience had me thinking about this constant duality that I experience: I'm one part anxious wreck and one part adventurous daredevil. Unfortunately, my anxious side seems to over shadow my badassery, at least in terms of how I see myself. I find myself admiring adventurous people and longing to be them, forgetting that I already am one. So, when adventure and excitement melts away my anxiety I feel surprised. I tend to beat myself up a lot for feeling anxious all the time and resent how difficult it can make life at times. Which got me thinking about my inner dialog knowing that it could use some improvement.

I think anxiety makes it extra challenging to feel secure. Anxiety, in general, is over analyzing, worrying, and nitpicking things that probably are mundane to someone else. Lots of times what we worry about is ourselves and how we're perceived, so it's hard to have a positive self-image. Anxiety makes you critical to a fault and I think it makes it hard to see yourself clearly.

So, when I was talking to people about this trip and people would call me brave, it was easy for me to laugh that off. Brave, HA! I was scared shitless. But on the bus, as I gleefully took each curve, I began to see the truth in that. It'd be easy for me to just talk about the fun ride, but it wouldn't acknowledge what it took me to get there. And, to be honest, what I went through that morning is a common process for me, even with a night out in Marquette and, frankly, even just to get out of bed some days. I have to constantly override my anxiety and force myself to do things, even things I enjoy. Realizing this, I've decided to give myself more credit. Instead of being hard on myself for the number of anxious thoughts that I have, I should celebrate my willingness and ability to recognize and accept my fears without letting them deter me.

I said it before and I'll say it again, those who struggle with anxiety are warriors quietly fighting a daily battle just to live. We shouldn't be ashamed of our struggles, but we should wear them like a badge of honor and celebrate our victories.

I should also note that the day after this bus ride, I took a motor bike into those very same hills on the very same curves and had the time of my life. I probably scared the locals as I was singing 'Take Me Home Country Roads' by John Denver (felt appropriate) at the top of my lungs. Sometimes it takes celebrating small victories to give me the confidence to do something truly daring. After a life changing few days in Pai, I'm heading back to Chiang Mai and am so excited for the bus ride! Lots of love! And to my anxious brothers and sisters, hang on tight and celebrate how amazing you are!

Solo Venture

Starting my trip at a Yoga Retreat was exactly what I hoped it'd be: a nice, relaxing introduction to Thailand. Four nights, five days, long enough to calm my nerves before venturing out on my own. In that time I received two massages, a Reiki treatment, a Hadu healing session (hard to explain, but involved drinking water that was infused with good vibes), took six yoga classes and three meditation classes, read two books, and had amazing meals prepared for me. To say I felt relaxed would be an understatement. I also got to visit and get advice from fellow travelers from all over the world. By the end of the weekend I was feeling ready to embrace the next part of my journey, the one that scared me the most, solo travel through Thailand.

I felt anxious on the taxi ride to my next hostel, always afraid of the unknown. Once I arrived I sat, utilizing the internet, trying to make the next step easier, but, no matter how much I researched, I was still going to have to navigate a foreign city alone.

I ventured out feeling unsure of myself, I even attempted talking myself out of the excursions. The devil on my shoulder whispering, "you know what sounds nice?!? A nap. The White Temple doesn't seem that great. Who cares if you take a day to relax instead of explore?" This internal dialog continued as I made one safe lap around the block near my hostel. On my first lap I made sure not to cross any streets, as Chiang Rai has an every-man-for-himself attitude and there are no 'yield to pedestrians' signs.

I knew I needed to take a bus to get to the White Temple (17 km outside the city), so I started on a second lap in search of the bus station, which was at a new location due to construction (i.e. a dirt lot). I was especially nervous about this idea because: 1) I would have to cross a street to get to the bus station, 2) I had no idea where to buy bus tickets once I got there, and 3) I wasn't exactly sure how to get back to Chiang Rai after I was done. I kept wrestling with my thoughts as I walked ominously towards the bus station. Then a man lounging in his Tuk Tuk pointed at me and said, in a heavy Thai accent, "White Temple." Anxious me was eager to talk to someone so I began to blab, "Yes, I'm heading to the bus station now. They say it's only 20 baht, but I'm not quite sure where the bus is..." He looked confused and it's clear he has no idea what I'm saying so he interrupts me and says, "there and back, 300 baht." I pause for a minute reflecting on whether I should abandon the challenge of the bus station. Sensing my hesitation he begins to pantomime with his fingers someone walking around and says, "I wait while you do do do do (again pantomiming) and take you back here." Convinced, I say, "sure, but I want to go to Singha Park, too." He smiles and says, "yes, White Temple, Singha Park."

I climbed into the back of his Tuk Tuk feeling incredibly relieved and excited. I don't know why climbing into that weird vehicle, with one side mirror missing and the other only having one piece of the mirror left, relieved my anxiety, but it did. It felt exhilarating as we weaved in and out of traffic toward the White Temple and I thought I'd take this over a bus any day.

I felt more confident after that to explore and cross streets and navigate in and out of the city with my new secret weapon, the Tuk Tuk. And I did eventually have to find that bus station to get to Chiang Mai. It was kind of chaotic with buses coming in and out of this dirt lot and I was once again relieved for my Tuk Tuk excursion the day before. Luckily the Chiang Mai bus was well marked.

My first day navigating solo in Thailand left me feeling accomplished and a tad bit more comfortable. On to Chiang Mai!

Thailand, the Beginning

Today for the first time in my life, I woke up in Thailand. Although this place is new there is something about the air here: the sounds, the smells, the feelings, that takes me back to other times and places. The foggy mornings in Kenya, the smells of eucalyptus on a scenic drive in California, the clinking of dishes and laughter coming from the kitchen reminding me of my time on staff at a yoga retreat, the calm and sacredness of my favorite hot springs in California. The same feelings of peacefulness, adventure, and a deep gratitude for all the wonder in this world awoke within me, but so did this deep heartache for things and parts of myself that I didn't realize I was missing.

I came to Thailand because I felt I had to. Because I could see and feel myself changing and was afraid my struggles were swallowing me whole, leaving me forever different. I had grown bitter, negative, and numb and I was scared I'd never snap out of it. The compassionate, understanding, vivacious, joyful person I once identified myself as had grown distant. Depression has been a thick, heavy blanket covering my whole life these last six months, dulling all sensations, except, of course, sadness and anxiety. The strangest part of this was for me to stop feeling that constant, bursting love that was bubbling in my chest eager to connect and express itself through laughter, tears, hugs, and words. Many times in my life I have tearfully said the words, "I just love everybody." That deep compassion was a part of who I was and without it I felt robotic. Play acting as my former self without the same feelings. I became the Tin Man searching for his heart. I grew accustomed to feeling without feelings. Laughter without laughing. Joy without joy. Excitement without excitement.

These feelings themselves carry an energy that I've missed. An emotional cup of coffee that no longer gets poured leaving me feeling blah and tired. And this morning, that nostalgia that overwhelmed me with warm feelings and sadness, also reminded me of another energy that accompanies moments of my life when amazement, happiness, and adventure have combined to create an unforgettable moment. Floating naked on my back in a hot spring staring at the stars and for a few blissful moments knowing that magic is real. Another time at that same hot spring, surrounded by cold water watching rain as it hit the fig leaves above my head feeling completely at peace and connected. Running one foggy morning in Kenya while listening to the Lion King soundtrack as I made my way through herds of giraffe, wildebeests, and zebra. I couldn't stop giggling at the surreal experience.  Unbelievable scenery soundtracked by the perfect song with the feelings of possibility and complete liberation that come with the open road.

As I swam in nostalgia and began to examine these memories, I realized that part of me booked this trip to invoke some of these feelings. To throw that depression blanket off and remember who I am and what makes me tick. There's something about a good sunset, a new trail, a good view, a pretty flower, when the sunlight hits the world just right, the smell of the woods, a camp fire, your skin after a long walk in the snow, and the anticipation, excitement, and nerves that accompany trying something new, that make me feel alive. These moments are why I explore, both myself and the world. It's these moments when gratitude overwhelms me as I see the everyday magic that exists in this wonderful world that show me that God is real, because how can't he be?! These moments, to me, are the same as falling in love. Love has not always been kind to me, but I can always count on my relationship to this. To God. To Nature. To connection. To adventure. To wonder. To this world.

As I sit here writing, surrounded by water, nature, and the sounds of the tropics, I'm starting to remember who I am and with that I feel hope. Hope for adventure, love, wonder, gratitude, overwhelming happiness, and feelings with feelings. First full day in Thailand, feeling alive and grateful.

The Great Depression of 2016

Man, this year was TOUGH. Honestly, it's been the hardest year that I can remember. A rocky start followed by a deep fall into depression, brought up challenges I already thought I had conquered, which had me questioning everything.

As most of you know, I come from a challenged past riddled with anxiety, depression, battles with drugs, alcohol, self-harm, and, not to mention, a whole slew of health issues. I am the classic picture of what is called a Wounded Healer: a person who grows more and more compassionate and empathetic with every trial they face and boy do they face a lot of trials. I have chosen to use this empathy and all the lessons I've learned to reach out and help others, either in my career or with my voice. After losing my cousin to suicide, I vowed to no longer suffer in silence, to share my own hardships and struggles, hoping that my vulnerability might help just one person. However, I am very careful with what I share. I don't want to open up without a silver lining, without a perspective I've developed, without a message. So, sometimes this blog gets quiet, like this year, and that's usually a sign that I'm working through something big and am learning how to approach it.

See, after my time in California, I got a little cocky. I thought I had seen and survived the worst and that I forever would be able to meet every challenge with confidence and ability. To me, I thought depression and anxiety was something I could master, something I could fix. And that's true, to a degree, but what I didn't want to admit was that those challenges would be apart of me my whole life. That realization knocked me on my ass.

So began one of the worst depressions I've EVER experienced and it challenged me down to my very core. Who am I? What am I doing? What do I believe? Why me? How the hell do I move forward? At one point, I thought I had all the answers and then all of sudden I had none. At one point, I felt a strong connection to God and my spiritual practice, then I felt alone, completely alone. At one point, I felt I had suffered so much for a distinct purpose that I was proud to be apart of: helping others, then I felt it was all so pointless and there was nothing I could do to help. At one point, I felt I had a strong hold on who I was and what my future looked like, then nothing felt right. I was, and admittedly still am, lost as f*ck.

There were some dark days, very dark days. I'd be lying if I told you suicide never crossed my mind, but it did, more than I care to admit. That alarmed me more than anything because, surely, SURELY, I had at least graduated passed that 'stage.' Then I once again made the decision to fight, to find a way out, and to not let the hopelessness consume me. I did the only thing I could think of, which was spend a lot of money on something that excited me, something I could look forward to. One thing that was different than my past is that I didn't take my suicidal thoughts seriously. They annoyed me more than anything because it felt like a stupid distraction instead of focusing on a solution. So, as a giant f*ck you to my own suicidal mind, I dropped $400 on a dinner at one of my favorite chef's restaurants in Chicago 4 weeks away and then bought a plane ticket to Thailand in February. This was my insurance and it worked.

Suicidal thoughts are a state of mind, that even though it feels like it'll last forever, it won't. Just like everything, it's temporary. If you allow yourself the time, it will shift. So, in an act of desperation, I literally bought myself that time. And slowly (felt like eons), I began to wrestle my way out. I stopped drinking almost completely, because lord knows that doesn't help me, I went back to therapy, I began cooking and eating really well, and, most importantly, I began meditating again. I somehow allowed myself to believe I didn't need all the things that I worked at in order to get me happy and healthy and I got lost, very lost. That's what I've been working on the last few months, reconnecting to myself and doing all the things it takes to take care of myself.

I keep going back to this one question: why did this happen? And I've realized that it was not one thing that derailed me, but thousands of little and not so little things that pushed me to this point. I lost both my grandmas in a year, I watched my sister get married as my love life fell apart, I felt more and more disconnected from the people around me, I found myself single and alone watching all my friends begin families, when I so desperately wanted to be doing the same, I turned thirty and was nowhere near where I thought I'd be, I watched in horror as our country took a political turn that scares the living hell out of me, I felt spiritually lost and abandoned, and I felt a million miles away from people like me, people who get that suicidal thoughts come up every once and awhile, people who can joke and laugh about anxiety and depression because it, too, is a huge part of their lives. I missed the people I went to group therapy with and that deep feeling of being understood that comes with being surrounded by people fighting the same fight.

So, yeah, it was a big year. It may not have been my favorite year, but it was still chalk full of good memories, friendships, and intense and important life lessons. And I know I'm not alone. So many people have been met with huge challenges this year and 2016 took the wind out of many people's sails. Even though it was tough, this year has taught me is that I'm am strong and capable, I am not alone, and I will always fight for better. This year kicked my ass, but it allowed me to realize that anxiety and depression aren't going away and it's time for me to befriend them and acknowledge their existence so that I never walk away from the lifestyle I need to manage them. It's pushed me to accept who I am and acknowledge that, yeah I may be different and may require a lifestyle different from my peers, but that's ok.

Self-care is more important to me than ever and so is my spiritual practice. It, too, is a relationship that needs nurturing and I can't expect to feel connected when I've neglected my practice completely. And adventure. Adventure, unlike anything else, pushes me outside my head and into the world to live freely in the moment. So, Thailand, I'll be seeing you soon and I can't wait for all that I'll learn and see and do. And, Future, you may be uncertain, but I'm learning to be okay with that, too. Life, the ultimate adventure.

May 2017 bring you love, happiness, life lessons, unforgettable experiences, laughter, tears, and all the things.

And to those of you who struggle with anxiety and depression. I know what you're going through. I also know that our society and the stigma surrounding mental health makes it hard to get the help you need. I want you to know that you have options beyond therapy and medication. Medication and therapy are very powerful tools, but there are a ton of lifestyle things you can and should be doing as well that will help you manage your anxiety and depression. One of the most powerful tools is connection. Anxiety and depression is extremely isolating. Please feel free to reach out to me, if you're having a hard time within your peer group. Reach out to someone. Always.

There is always the Suicide Hotline, too. There are a ton of emergency numbers to call for help, so don't be afraid to. The way I look at it is, if you're already contemplating the worst thing that could happen, why not do something out of your comfort zone to try something new. If it doesn't work, try something else. Keep trying. Lots of love to you!