My butt: The beauty of the before and after

Goodness, there has been an awful lot of stripping down going on lately by mothers. From the Dutch model Lara Stone, who posed nude post-baby for System Magazine, to Kim Kardashian’s greased up Paper cover, there is definitely no longer a need to pay for a Playboy subscription.

The Daily Mail UK says Kardashian explains, “As a role model I'm not saying anyone else should do that, but for me it was an art project and it taught me to do what you want to do.”

You can’t argue that point; it is good to feel empowered enough to act on your own desires and to not be shamed by others’ morals.

I used to do just that.

Before: Back in my modeling days

Then I got older and--wiser? I hid my body away. I covered up. I got more conservative as befits a mother, or so I thought.

And I lost some of my sense of self. I lost some sense of myself as a beautiful, sexual woman. I lost connection to a certain part of myself.

I've watched with interest as celebrities and everyday women claim empowerment through posing nude; it's made me ponder my stance and realize where I stand.

This past week, I've seen the expected parodies and responses to Kim Kardashian's butt: Chelsea Handler has been doing her own selfie-versions as part of the conversation and there’s even a Princess Jasmine version of the butt shot.

This whole posing-in-the-nude-to-make-some-point just might be getting oversaturated.

Of course, maybe that could be part of some kind of solution to how women are portrayed in media. If we see everybody and their mother (literally) in the nude, maybe we’ll get to the point as a culture where we’ll say, who cares?

Maybe we’ll get to the point where nobody will say, “Oh! But you’re a mother! You shouldn’t pose nude!”

After: 23 years and three children later

Maybe we’ll get to the point where we really will get to see the diversity and beauty in all different shapes and sizes and ages of bodies.

Maybe we’ll get to the point where every nude image of a woman doesn’t have to be sexualized and presented for a male gaze, but can just be a photo of a female celebrating her body.

Maybe we’ll get to the point where what we choose to do or not do with our bodies will be our decisions to make alone and no one will judge us for those decisions.

And hey, maybe the fathers will get in on the act, too. And we can all live in a happy-ever-after world with lots of different naked people all getting along and loving each other regardless of how perfect (or not) our bodies are.

Mom Writers Stripping Down

I'm introducing a new feature on Stripping Down to help create a supportive writing community. I'll be including guest posts from other mom writers reflecting on their experiences of motherhood and writing. 

We all have experiences or jobs from our pasts that we view as negative. Instead of letting those things constantly hold us back in life, we can look them squarely in the face and learn from them.

Are you a writer mom? Would you like to share with other moms? Send me an email and maybe you'll be the next guest writer!

I hope you'll enjoy reading these posts on "Stripping Down" metaphorically and perhaps they'll shed some light on how to navigate the sometimes tricky path of motherhood and life as a writer.

Mom + Writer = Magic

by Marcie Perez

I have loved writing since I was ten years old. Writing was an outlet for me growing up. Both of my brothers were older—one was out of high school and one was almost out. My parents separated for a little bit and writing was something I always had, along with music. No matter what I was feeling, I wrote, even if only a line or two.

I remember wanting to be a songwriter and a singer before I started smoking and messed up my voice. I remember the first time I went to the Warner Brothers Store and begged my mom for a Tweety Bird notebook.

Marcie Perez

My mom told me she would get it for me another time. I came home and found it on my bed after I took a shower. The first thing I remember doing was watching MTV and a Britney Spears song came on; I started writing my own lyrics and short stories. I converted my songs into poems when I realized I would not be entering the music scene.

Earlier this year, after being unemployed for a year, I said to my husband, "I am sick and tired of not being able to find work. I am going to apply to an online college, so I can still look for work, be a mom and be the best wife I can be." Since I enrolled in college, I have been able to go full force with my writing. I write about love, feeling alone, and struggles with my weight (I had a weak immune system, so doctors always gave me steroids, which made me bigger).

My writing process varies: sometimes I just write it all out on paper and sort it out when I am done, other times I will write an idea down, do an outline, then take it step by step.

I write first on paper. I normally have a notebook dedicated just to writing. I sometimes get sidetracked and start drawing. Occasionally, my drawing leads to a story.

I try not to have any concerns. If I have a writer’s block, I put my pen and paper down and walk away. I do something like watch TV, go for a walk, or work out. The best medicine I have is to turn the music up and just dance.

What excites me about writing is that I love coming up with ideas. I have been through a lot and recently I have written a lot about my past and about how we can fix things today. I was in an abusive relationship and I finally broke out of it. After a year spent being single and finding myself, I was ready to date. I met my husband through an online dating service. Now that I have found my Prince Charming and am living my fairytale, I feel inspired to write about love.

I have also written about the struggles and the great times I've had with my son, who is almost thirteen years old. I have known him since he was ten. He has been through so much bad stuff in his life, but it has led him to good through losing weight and getting good grades. He now loves to read and will take thirty books out of the library at a time. He loves to draw, listen to music and is always ready to try something once.

Growing up, I was always a go-getter, but reserved. The past few years I have felt like a new person. Being a mom is special. My son hates the word "step" and will tell everyone not to say it. My son has taught me to be a better person and always keeps me on my toes. We "as a family" are always ready to try everything—at least once.

How comfortable are you in your body image?

I'm quoted in an article by Kayleen Schaefer for Yahoo Style, How Drastically Body Image Changes From Childhood to Adulthood.

The article comments on a short video called "Comfortable: 50 People 1 Question," produced by iNatureSkinCare. The video asks a simple question: “If you could change one thing about your body, what would it be?”

The adults give the expected answers about body parts thy aren't happy with, but the children? They were all either happy with their bodies or interested in adding something cool, like wings.

It raises important questions: When do we lose our sense of our bodies being perfect they way they are? What can we do to get back to an innocent and fun view of the possibilities of our lives and bodies.

Check out How Drastically Body Image Changes From Childhood to Adulthood.

And think about it for yourself, just how comfortable are you with your body?

Stripper Mom Spreads a Message of Change

http://www.dailyoffbeat.com/articles/3738/20141102/stripper-mom.htm

Here's an interview with me by Tony Sokol on Daily Offbeat.

"I really think my memoir can help other women to see the potential in facing their pasts and embracing who they are. Women need to embrace who they really are and stop judging themselves against others' expectations. I think I've barely begun reaching the women out there who can benefit from my memoir and my message. I am trying to do more speaking engagements because that's where I feel like change can really begin. The groups I have spoken for so far have given me a great response. Women have really connected to my story and my willingness to speak about it. I don't sugarcoat my past or act ashamed of my life either."

Robin Williams, My Depression and Stand-Up

Robin Williams' suicide has me very upset. I've always admired him tremendously. His energy, enthusiasm and wonder that exuded from his personality was a balm to my own depression.

I decided to try something new a few months ago. I decided to take a stand-up comedy class. It’s been a real challenge for me because of my depression, but I’ve been studying Williams’ old routines and marveling at his gift.

Someone so successful and who brought so much joy to people chooses suicide. I just feel so overwhelmingly sad.

I am not surprised, but angry, not at him, but at depression.

How can there be such a horrible illness that makes us want to end our lives? That makes us feel so overwhelmed that we just can’t live anymore?

I find myself in a haze. I find myself obsessing over his death.

When we connect to a celebrity in a strong way through their performances and interviews, we really do begin to feel like we know them. I feel like my crazy, goofy uncle died.

But I didn’t know him. But I keep wanting to be able to go back in time and be his friend and be there when the darkness got too deep. And I know that is just silly because he had friends and family and they loved him and he loved them, but still, tragedy happens.

That might be the hardest part—knowing that sometimes suicide happens and it’s horrible, but you can’t go back. You can’t change it.

Maybe that’s the real issue that’s rising for me now. I can’t go back in time. I can’t change anything. I can’t change my own past.

I can’t go back and make my mother well. I can’t go back and make better choices when I was younger. And I can’t seem to make my depression go away for good.

We just can’t.

I am clinging to my wonderful outer world—loving husband, three great kids, work I like, creative challenges—but my inner world goes back and forth between wanting to allow me to be great and wanting to destroy me.

I keep trying. I will keep trying.

I did my first open mike a few weeks ago; it was terrifying. The laughs I got felt good. Being onstage again felt good.

I understand why I’ve always needed to perform in some way, to have people look at me—because that’s when I can be someone else, that’s when I can break free of depression’s strangle on me. It’s all about looking out instead of in.

Tonight is our final class. And maybe I’ll try the open mike again. I need the escape. The release from the inner demons.

I want to be free to laugh. I want to bring joy to the world.

Robin Williams, thank you. You brought joy to me. I’m sorry the pain was too much. You will be missed.

Blister in the Sun

I'm happy to say I just finished grading my last batch of research papers. I have one class of final exams left to read, then I need to figure out final grades and then I am done for the semester.

I'm ready to move forward. Part of that may be stopping my dance videos. I think I've gotten a lot out of doing them: I practiced letting the need to be perfect go; I learned to trust myself; I had fun.



Now I'm ready to figure out the next step on my path of writing, dancing, performing fun!

New York City Taping

Quick entry today and no time for my morning dance video.

I've got a car coming for me soon. I'm going to New York City to be a guest on a talk show.

My stomach is kind of not feeling so good.

Spring has sprung in our yard!

It's funny; I don't feel "nervous" about appearing except that I hope my message comes through clear and that I don't get thrown off by others. And doing something likes this forces me to look at what I really believe about tricky issues and try to articulate it well.

Not always so easy.

Wish me luck!

I Love It!

Sometimes you’ve just got to say, “I don’t care!”

Well, I do, anyway. Some people actually probably should care a little more, but not me. I usually care too much.

So, as I prepare to go proctor my final exam and hand back three plagiarized papers, I chose a song to just not care to as I dance.

And it felt good.

One Woman Show?

OK. I think I know what I want to work on now.

These past few months, or really this whole last year, has been about me trying to figure out where I want to go next, what kind of large writing project I want to work on.

I’d like to continue to push myself to write at least one essay-sized piece every week or two, but I think I need to really start fleshing out a performance piece. A one-woman show.

I’ve wanted to do this for so long.

Last year, I helped a friend of mine birth her one-woman show and now I’d like to really give myself that space, that mental and emotional allowance to make the story come alive.

I stumbled on Alison Arngrim yesterday when I was surfing the web; she wrote “Confessions of a Prairie Bitch: How I Survived Nellie Oleson and Learned to Love Being Hated” as a memoir and then turned it into a one-woman/comedy show.

I wonder if I could do something similar. Take some material from “Stripping Down” and rewrite it into a performance piece.

I saw a comment someone wrote on an interview with Arngrim along the lines of—Man, talk about milking all you can from a TV character you played a zillion years ago. Geez!

I sometimes question whether I’m milking my life as a stripper for material to write about, but it’s more like—that was my experience. An experience that affected me tremendously on so many levels. You don’t just write about something like that once or twice and be done.

At least not for me. I see nothing wrong with mining the same life experiences to see what new insights I can discover from them.

Don't Have a Heart Attack or Anything

Lots of stuff stirring in my mind. Maybe I question myself too much about my motives.

When I was talking to my husband about making silly Vine videos, I said that I want to make people laugh.

He said, innocently, “No, you want attention.”

I was all like—what? No! I mean, yes, I like it if people like my videos, just like I like it if people like my writing, but it’s not just for attention.

“If it was just for attention, I could just take out my tits!”

Yes, I said that. I know—hilarious.

The only attention I’d get for going topless now would be a police officer giving me a ticket for indecent exposure.

Bah, dum, dum…crash!

Anyway.

His comment got me a bit riled up. I mean, as a performer or writer, yes, of course, we want people to pay attention. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

But why do I judge myself then? Or why do I allow other people who don’t like, or get, what I do to bother me?

And what is my overall mission with art?

There I go again! Wanting to know my every motivation.

Can it just be enough to know that I want to perform and write?

Vine it, Baby!

Goodness, it’s quite overwhelming how many different ways there are to express ourselves through social media.

I’d heard of Vine before, but just checked it out yesterday.

Who knew that so much could be packed into 6 seconds of video?

For my tutorial, I picked what was in front of me—cats.

For my follow up, I picked the other thing that is often in front of me—kids.

I’m so proud of myself for trying something new. I often hesitate on doing something before I know whether I’m going to be good at it or not, but taping my morning dances and not being plugged in to what other people think is really helping me break out of my rut.

Once we start trying new stuff, it gets easier and easier.

Try it! What have you always secretly wanted to do, but maybe you were afraid people would laugh?

Do it anyway! The reward will be tremendous.

And, oh yeah, if you're on Vine, follow me and I'll follow you!

I Want to be Funny! Maybe...

I am feeling such an itch to perform, but I have zero extra time.

Perhaps I am going to have to get creative in my performance.

I know this is kind of ridiculous, but I’m feeling like I want to be funny. But I’m not one of those people who just says funny things that makes everybody laugh.

The antidote to my depression really seems to be in keeping happy (duh!). In keeping active. In distracting my depression with silliness and fun and funny.

I’m just going to fan this fire a little and see if any ideas come to me…

Let the Feelings Exist

How quickly the winds shift direction. I’m feeling not so good today. The kids were making me nuts all morning with their bickering amongst themselves. The arguments always lead to someone screaming and crying and then I feel like I just can’t take it anymore.

I’m feeling like I don’t know how to manage their problems very well. I just end up yelling at them for yelling.

So, of course, I’m feeling like nothing I do is worth anything and I should just roll over and give up.

I wanted to really lift my spirits through dancing today, but at the same time I felt like I needed to be fair to myself and just acknowledge what I was feeling and dance to express that feeling.

So, not the cheeriest of dances today, but I did at least allow myself to feel like what I was feeling mattered and that the negative feelings didn’t need to be swept out of sight. I let myself feel.

Grading Papers as Procrastination

I feel like I’ve been managing my depression well the last couple of weeks. There haven’t been any major depressive episodes. I’m trying to build on that streak.

I have felt my confidence in my creativity waning though. I go through ups and downs where I feel so gung-ho and like I can write up a storm to feelings of—I’ve got nothing important to say. It’s all been said already.

Thank goodness, I understand writing as a process, which buoys me up when I feel stuck or generally blah with my work.

And hey, I do have a big pile of papers waiting for me to grade them, so I can do that instead of writing!

Nice way to procrastinate, Sheila!

Will Dance (Or, You Know, Stand and Move My Arms a Little) For Fifty Cents

I may have created some little money monsters. The boys wanted to dance with me today…if I would pay them 50 cents.

So I agreed; I like their entrepreneurial spirit.

Then they just kind of stood there. And moved their arms a little bit.

Now I’m fine with that, if that’s how their spirit moves them, but to me it seemed a bit more like at 5 and 3 they’ve already figured out if someone has agreed to pay you for your work, you can do just the bare minimum and collect your wages.

I had a little talk with them afterwards. I now understand why bosses offer bonuses.

If they want to dance, they earn 25 cents for just showing up, but if they want the whole 50 cents enchilada, they’re going to have to put a little passion into their dance.

Let’s see who shows up on the dance floor tomorrow!

Let It Go

Life is constantly changing.

One day your basement is dry, and the next, not so much.

One day your bedroom ceiling is patched and halfway normal, and the next, not so much.

One day you are all caught up on grading and the next, your Canvas account is filled with Research Papers.

The sun is shining and I don’t want to grade papers. I want to sing and dance and laugh and play.

Legos Everywhere

I bribed my kids to dance with me today. Well, I guess it’s not bribery, it’s teaching how to earn money for an honest five-minutes of work.

Of course, they will just save their quarters until they have enough to buy another Lego set. Have you noticed all the bins behind me when I dance? All. Legos.

I’d really like to convince them to get rid of all their other toys because Legos seem to be the only toy that they care about (besides electronics, of course).

My husband loves Legos, too, but for some reason they hold no interest for me. The only aspect that I find interesting is the special characters series that they sell. They’re kind of like trading cards in that you don’t know which one you’re going to get when you buy the packet.

Only we’ve never seen them in the stores. They’re always sold out.

Interesting. I like rare things. Collectible. Special.

All the issues that lie within my own struggle with my depression—a need to feel special. A need to be seen.

Lighten Up

Rainy day, so I need to soak up some dancing sun. I just allowed myself to get a bit silly with my dancing today to lighten my mood.

Rough start to the day when everyone slept late and I discovered I didn’t wash the dishes last night, so no cereal bowls or Tupperware for school lunches. Our school has a strict garbage-free lunch rule, so no plastic bags or anything allowed.

We still managed to get to school on time and while I was feeling myself getting annoyed and growly, I totally was aware of it and tried to laugh at myself.

And now I need to put real clothes and go to work.

Genre Play

Some writers fall very clearly into one genre and do not veer much away from that one style of writing because what they do fits them so well.

I’ve been trying out some new writing genres and styles. I think narrative nonfiction is my safe place, my comfort, but I’ve never felt trapped by the genre.

I also love to write poetry, drama, graphic narratives and humor. I even finished writing a romance novel this year.

I’m practicing immersing myself in new forms and in new ways of expressing myself. Huh—much like I’ve done with my dancing videos.

What I do and why is constantly evolving. I want to keep expressing myself in different forms for fun and for learning where and how I best feel I can truly say/dance/perform what lies within me.

Practice Saying Yes!

New focus this week: Fun, joy, happiness, silliness, play.

It’s so easy to fall into our roles in life and then stay stuck there, sometimes for a long time.

The boys pose for their first Selfie

As a writer and as someone with depression, it is second nature to focus on the heavy stuff, the serious issues, but then I churn through those emotions and experiences and get stuck there.

So, this week I’m going to try to work on fun topics in writing and in my mind in general. I’m going to practice not caring what others think of me. I’m going to practice the presence of fun in my life.

I’m going to say yes to following what just might be my bliss.

Today, I say yes!

College Writing and Teaching

At the beginning of every semester, I explain to my English 101 students that at the end of the semester there will be a bunch of them whining and crying to me for more time. I say that the time is now. Be proactive. Seek help early. Don’t fall behind.

And they all laugh thinking it won’t be them.

So, yesterday I had to point out to my class that it was, indeed, them.

I listened to the same old moan and groan and begging for more time.

The life of an adjunct instructor can be very tedious. We get none of the benefits and all of the crap.

For a writing instructor, for a writer, for someone who loves to read and write, it can be difficult to watch so many students who just don’t care.

I suppose it is every teacher’s dream to have a room full of students excited to learn. I work hard to instill that feeling into students and I think I do a pretty good job at it, too. It’s just discouraging to see how many students really don’t care.

I suppose that would have been me if I had gone to college when I was eighteen. In retrospect, it was definitely the right thing for me to go to college only when I was ready, only when I cared.

Cork that Feeling

I had an essay accepted for publication yesterday and I savored the feeling of happiness. I savored the rush of feeling accepted.

Can I bottle that feeling and uncork it when I’m feeling low?

I tried to really experience the happiness in my whole body; I recorded the sensations of lightness, bounciness and accomplishment.

I think sometimes that is why I feel so driven, so in need of producing art or doing good in the world—I long for that rush of adrenaline, that shot of happy, that I seem to experience when I feel accomplished and worthy.

I guess it is that sensation of being seen, being recognized and appreciated for being me. That is where my happiness comes from.

Now I need to learn to be able to give myself that feeling. I want to be able to produce happiness through recognizing myself.

Music for Dancing

I went to bed at eight o’clock last night. Exhaustion seems to be my best friend. I also feel like I’m trying to shake off the beginnings of a cold.

I’m falling behind again on my school work. Lots of grading to do and not to mention a lesson plan for a class in, oh, an hour or so.

At least I got my dancing in. Genny likes to sit and watch me, but will not join in.

Today I went with just instrumental and allowed myself to sink more into feeling.

Dance Your Day

The Dance Pill actually worked today. I awoke early from bouncing kittens and children and was off to a crappy start of a day.

Before I knew it, I was ready to seriously bite everyone’s head off. It felt like I was being taunted by demons with breakfast orders and lunch demands. 

A small inhabitant of my house, when needing help getting dressed, stood five feet away from me and wondered why I could not be of more aid.

A slightly larger resident asked me to comb her hair and then whined and cried the entire time I did.

Mommy needed her Dance Pill.

I scanned through the choice of songs I have left on my iPhone and chose Duran Duran “Hungry Like a Wolf.”

As I began to dance, all the common thoughts raced through my mind—why am I doing this? This is dumb. This doesn’t help. Shut up. Just dance. Just feel.

And a remarkable thing happened. I just fell into the lyrics and let myself be in the moment and not care. When I do that, everything feels right.

After I returned to my normal maternal duties, I felt better. The dance actually centered me, brought me some peace.

Now, does this mean I have to dance through my entire day? Good God! That would be awkward.

Mantra Wanted

Spring break for the kids is over and they are all back to school. Only seven more weeks until their summer break.

Easter started out rough with a pretty strangling depression smashing me in the morning, but fortunately it receded by the time we went to visit family.

It really is a moment-to-moment experience to stay centered and calm. I need to face my demons not every day, but every minute.

I’m ready to start figuring out my next big writing project. I still have a few semi-completed projects I will work on this summer, but I want to start my next memoir.

There are plenty of topic seeds I need to start exploring.

Right now, I need to get through this semester. My students are working on their research papers. I am hoping for no cases of plagiarism this year. A girl can dream.

So, lots of planning and grading and prepping ahead of me. I will try to stay focused.

Maybe I need to come up with a mantra for myself. Something I can repeat to keep me as undepressed as possible.

Anyone have anything good that keeps them going?

Comfort Food

No one wanted to dance today. Not even me. My energy is absolutely zero; it might have something to do with the four kittens bouncing on my head all night.

I’ve noticed the way I’ve been dealing with my depression this round has been by eating a lot. My jeans are feeling tight and, come to think of it, that might have something to do with my lack of energy, too.

I’ve been offering myself all kinds of excuses of why I’m eating whatever I want but it all boils down to—it’ll make me feel better and I want to feel better.

I would say I’m going on a diet, but that’s dangerous for me. The other way I deal with my depression is by eating too little. Cutting out meals. Denying myself to an extreme. With my history with disordered eating, I need to work on developing a healthy relationship to food.

I know I should cut out the sugary treats, but I hesitate to do it because they bring me such comfort. Maybe I’ll have to just start by limiting the junk. But can I do it? Even just talking about limiting brings up anxiety like, if I don’t have food to turn to, what might I turn to instead?

Chill Out, Anxiety!

I’ve been trying to understand the anxiety bursts I get. They usually pop up right when for a moment my mind notices that everything is OK.

I hear a voice say, “Oh, wait. This is what it feels like to be content, dare I say it, happy.”

I have a few moments of happy bliss and then—boom!

“It isn’t going to last! It’s not real! I’m real! Be scared. Be depressed. That’s your natural state of being.”

And then I return to an anxious space of dread, of knowing peace doesn’t last.

I believe peace and happiness is a moment-to-moment experience, but can’t I back off on myself a little?

I need to figure out a counter response to the voice of anxiety.

“Chill out! Let me relax for a bit. You’ll have your turn. Trust me. But right now, let’s just have this brief moment.”

If I can remember to have this retort ready, maybe I’ll be able to tame the anxiety a bit. Maybe I’ll be able to make the moments of Ok last a bit longer every time.

Dancing By Myself (to Kidz Bop)

My mood seems to have balanced out this week. The deep despair I was feeling only a week ago has lifted. This is what I always need to remind myself of when I’m at my most depressed: it’s not a permanent state of being. I will feel better.

Of course, the flip side is that when I’m feeling better, in the back of my head I’m wondering when it’s all going to come crashing down again.

It’s like, my mind says, “Don’t get too comfortable; don’t enjoy this feeling. It’s only temporary.”

But I suppose everything is temporary. Like the boys wanting to dance with me. Yesterday seems to have been enough.

Spring Break Day 2 With the Kids

I managed to convince two out of my three children to dance with me today. True, a lot of the dance was spent trying to convince them to not pause yet.

“No, no, no…don’t turn the music off! Wait until the end of the song!”

And as I type these words, I had to go break up a Lego fight because, you know, we have thousands of Legos and everyone wants the same pieces at the same time.

Crisis averted by breaking the tower in two and sharing it out.

And I have Kidz Bop in the background and hey…they’re actually having fun together at the moment. Knock on wood.

Oops, spoke too soon. No, wait. They handled that one on their own.

A few more minutes bought for me.

Oh, I just remembered a moment of real humanity on Saturday: the boys had their first ever soccer practice. Tommy went first with twenty other three-year-olds; he lasted five minutes. Cole went the following hour and played the whole time. At the end when we greeted him on the sidelines, Tommy walked up to Cole, put his arm around his shoulder, patted and said, “I’m really proud of you.”

Nick and I looked at each other like, what the?!

Thinking about it now, we must say things like that to Tommy for him to know the right context to do it in. 

And maybe we’re not such bad parents after all.

Spring Break for Kids

My kids have Spring break this week, so I’ll only be able to write a minimum amount this week as I try to balance giving them attention and going to work and getting my class work done.

I returned to my teenage years and danced to Falco’s “Rock Me Amadeus” today. This was one of the songs I used to blast from our stereo after school and dance to until I sweated out my frustrations and depression.

To Feel Alive

Not sure how to talk today. Something needs to change. I am failing at things so important to me.

I feel like I should go live in a cave where who I am won’t hurt others. Where I won’t destroy lives.

But even still, as I sit and write these words, I still have the fight within me. I still can recognize these are not the only voices inside of me. I call upon the words that tell me I can fix things, which tell me I can fight day by day.

But how is that fair to those who love the happy me? It isn’t. This is where the loop of depression tries to tangle me up.

Depression sinks its greedy claws into my thoughts and makes me feel like I should remove myself, that that’s what people really want, that that’s the only thing that will cure the people who love me. My removal.

I toss around the idea of pretending to be happy. I really do. Perhaps this is what others do. Perhaps this is what I need to do. Perhaps I am weak for giving into depression. Perhaps it really is a character flaw and not an illness.

I don’t know right now. I don’t know.

So I’m just trying to shake it out. I’m not trying to feel joy. I’m just trying to feel alive.

Let It Out

Express yourself.

Have you ever stopped and asked yourself what that actually means?

Express yourself.

What is the “yourself” that can be expressed? I feel like I’ve been trying to figure it out my whole life and I come up with different answers as I move through life.

I’ve tried many methods of expression: acting, dancing, modeling, writing, teaching. A lot of the time I’ve been expressing others’ words or ideas or what I think other people want and expect to see and hear.

Now that I’ve given myself free reign to express whatever is “myself,” I want to really get to the core of who I am when I express.

Sometimes I feel like that expression may just come out as pure feeling—like rage at certain injustices I see in the world. Other times, I feel like the expression is just a quiet whimper of emptiness that just wants to be seen and acknowledged.

I think we all have a need to express ourselves, to be seen, to be heard, to be understood.

Is it enough to just express or do we need a receiver on the other end? Does having someone witnessing our expression make the experience feel richer?

I think behind a lot of my expression is also the desire to reach others in some way, for them to be able to relate or be inspired, entertained or educated. So I think an audience can be very fulfilling.

I totally get it when Lady Gaga sings, “I live for the applause, applause, applause.”

I remember the days of applause and it did feel good.

Mix It Up

What would I do if I could do anything?

Why do I feel like I can’t do anything?

The things I do do, I feel like they are never good enough for this world that seems to demand perfection.

What would make me happy? If I knew I couldn’t fail, what would I do differently? What would I try?

For someone who was a stripper and a nude model, why am I so afraid to expose myself now? Because I’m afraid of failure. I’m afraid of never being good enough.

What is the antidote for feeling never good enough? I think it’s got to be to do what I want anyway, regardless of whether I’m good or not because if I’ll never think I’m good enough, if I don’t do something, I won’t do anything.

I guess I really need to figure out what’s most important to me, what brings me, or might potentially bring me, the most joy, then I need to do that thing.

Regardless of anything. 

I need to start allowing myself to do what I want even if it doesn’t fit into the mold that the world and I have accepted or deemed appropriate for me.

The Way I Feel

The world loves a winner. The world loves a winner who was a loser at some point even more. A beautiful, inspiring tale of—been there, done that, but look at me now, taking the high road!

The world does not love losers when they’re losing though.

When I was a stripper, I felt like people were always embarrassed for me, sad. Most people shook their heads and wondered why I was doing what I was doing when I could be doing so much more.

I was confused. Yes, of course, there were many horrible aspects to what I was experiencing, but I was also having fun. Little was required of me except to be pretty and dance. I could find employment wherever I went. I could step out of the real world and just dance.

For someone with depression, being able to step out of reality in a somewhat healthy way can be life-saving.

And being told I was pretty when I felt valueless was life-affirming.

What can I do now? I remind myself of my value because I know this is one of my underlying roots of depression. I know it has to be enough that I recognize my value as a human being, but oftentimes it doesn’t feel like enough to sustain me throughout the day.

I find myself tumbling back to a thought I often find myself face-to-face with, others cannot understand what I go through. They get tired of my state of being. At what point does it become unfair to them to have to live with someone who feels the way I do?

Good Days and Bad Days

Today I told my husband that I was fucking miserable.

And being the most awesome husband in the world, he told me to stop doing whatever is making me miserable. He told me to do what I feel I need to.

But I pointed out that I can’t stop doing the things that are making me miserable: raising a family, working, etcetera.

And he pointed out that I can.

I suppose I can or could. I could wake up one day and just not give my kids breakfast. I could not make their lunches. I could not go to work. I could not handle any of the zillion responsibilities I have.

But maybe my greatest fear is that even then, I would still be miserable.

Is it my life situation that creates my depression?

No, I really don’t think so. Would I be any happier if I had a nanny and no money worries? Well, probably, but I don’t think that would make everything better.

Would I like to run away to where no one needs anything from me? Where there are no demands made upon me?

Yes, I suppose that sounds nice, but I know that’s not what is going to make me “happy.”

I think one of my biggest fears is that nothing can make me happy. That this is who I am and I’m doomed to fight the rest of my life.

This is not me speaking, I remind myself for the umpteenth time. This is my depression. And today it has the upper hand and I just feel like crying.

Real Work Will Wait

Today I will be brave and chop off my hair! Well, I won’t, that would just be silly.

I keep wanting to grow my hair out long, but then I get to the phase I’m in now where I can absolutely not go another day with the way it looks.

Hence, today I will chop off my hair!

Of course, today I should also be grading papers and writing lesson plans, but I kind of don’t want to. I kind of don’t want to do anything.

The world will so not end if I don’t do my work today. Of course, then I’ll be scrambling to get everything done this weekend, which I will regret then.

But, then is not now. Now is now. And I want to work on something else, something fun.

Today I will give myself time to work on my romance novel.

The real work can wait until the kids are in bed.

Paper Demons: How to Battle Depression

When you’re depressed, the first thing you should reach for is a pen and paper to write out as much depressive gunk as possible, but you may consider yourself lucky just for getting out of bed.

I know how difficult creative motivation can be when you’re stuck in a depressive episode.

Why is it that so many writers get depressed? Or maybe the question is, why do so many people who have depression turn to writing?

Writing is a self-healing method that the body, mind and soul recognize as beneficial. Writers are also driven to express because of their deep level of introspection. Of course, some depressed people might be too introspective—thinking about the world until they become overwhelmed by thoughts, unable to write them out and instead drowning in them.

Why not plan ahead for those unavoidable miserable times? Choose now that the next time you notice yourself feeling depressed, the first thing you will do is write. Convince yourself now that every time you feel depressed, you will write automatically. As a smoker reaches for a cigarette out of habit—you’ll reach for a pen. Without thinking.

That would be a pretty good promise to make, but could you keep it?

I’ll admit it, when I’m depressed, writing feels like the last thing I want to do. I feel like I have nothing important enough to say and even if I did, who would want to read about it? But when I’m feeling pretty centered, I know that I do have things to say even when I’m depressed. In fact, when I’m depressed I’m very in touch with my deeper emotions. The longer I put off expressing that dark frame of mind, the more likely that part of me will never get understood.

I’ve wasted too much writing time being depressed. I’m sure you have, too.

The knowledge that writing can help lift the blanket of depression is a powerful tool in itself. Although you may have times when you are so depressed that you can’t even remember the fact that writing out your depression can help, perhaps there will be that one time when you remember.

Pick up a pen and a piece of paper and scrawl out all the horrid feelings you have, instead of going over them in your head. Exorcise your demons onto paper where you can see them, then you can be more objective about your feelings, certainly more so than when they were part of your internal dialogue.

Once thoughts are out on paper you can choose what you want to do with them. You put yourself back in control. You may want to put your written feelings away for a while. Open a desk drawer, shove them in and tell them you don’t feel like seeing them anymore today. Then when you feel stronger, go back. Reopen that drawer and pull out your paper demons and look at them square in the face. Demons don’t like this because suddenly they are seen for what they really are—just thoughts.

Take a good look at your depressing thoughts. Feel them. Acknowledge them. Now you have the upper hand. You are in control and choosing when and how you’ll come across them. Next time your demons show up in your head you may not feel so bad. You’ll recognize them as words on paper.

So, remember to shake some ink onto a page and lessen your wandering mind, thoughts and depression. Keep your hand moving. Empty it out. And then you can let the thoughts go away. Just like that. Send each thought packing with your pen strokes, right out into the air and away from your body and mind. 

Roll Your Hips, Baby! (No matter how silly you look…)

One of my guilty pleasure songs that I would normally never admit to liking is "Hips Don’t Lie" by Shakira ft.Wyclef Jean, but today I was looking for some music to really shake things up for myself and I’m here to say, I love this song.

My musical tastes usually run the gamut from alternative rock to classic rock to fizzy pop (I just made that up, but I think you know what I mean), but there’s something about Shakira that just makes me want to rumba (I have no idea what a rumba is).

Music and sex have always gone together. Sometimes a song will just make you feel like rolling your hips and swinging your arms and grinding the air, but don’t worry—no twerking here!

I just wanted to let some music wash through me and let my body go without trying to be “sexy.” I’ve shied away from dancing to music that might be construed by others as me trying to be sexy, but this song just makes me feel good.

And what’s the point of life if we aren’t allowing ourselves to feel good every now and then? Whatever good means to us…

Goodness gracious, am I going to turn myself into a feel-good guru? Like, I prescribe you to play a song every day that makes you feel like time has stopped, that makes you want to let your body go completely, that makes you want to dance and sing and laugh!

Yes! That is exactly what I prescribe. Get up and dance (and as you can see, you do not have to be able to “dance”; I most decidedly don’t move like I come from Columbia, rather like I come from some small CT suburb)!

Just get up and move!

Trust the Process

Great ideas abound inside of my mind. So many, in fact, that I don’t seem to get any of them done!

Does this sound familiar?

As any creative types are sure to understand, it’s not easy settling on a creative project to work on. What ends up happening instead is that I get nothing done except for daydreaming.

I’m finding my daily dance and blog is at least keeping me in the game by making sure I write something everyday. Dancing is keeping my energy moving and helping me to reconnect to my body in a healthy way. The daily check-in with my emotional state is also proving beneficial because I’m forced to deal with my demons on a daily basis.

All of my hesitancies about who I am and what I should be doing are being brought to the forefront. I’m choosing to see all of this as a “practice,” just like yoga or writing. I’m allowing myself to discover what things means in the moment instead of having it all figured out from the beginning, which never works for me.

What’s important is the process. And I’m in the process in all ways—physically, emotionally, creatively and spiritually.

Now I’m working on letting the process be enough. I’m constantly striving for the finished “product.” Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to have something to show for all of one’s “practice,” but I’ve got to also let the practice be enough itself, without needing to prove anything to myself or others.

Dance Anyway!

Friday’s video gave me a lot to think about. Thanks to someone sharing my David Bowie “Fame” dance on a Bowie fan site, I’ve managed to rack up 750 views compared to my usual handful.

At first I was getting all these really nice comments and the virtual attention made me feel really good, but then I noticed a few snarks about my “dancing,” which made me reevaluate watching my numbers.

I had to remind myself why I’m even doing this.

I guess if someone were to just stumble upon one of my videos without knowing why I’m doing it, they might totally be like, “What? This girl can’t dance!”

I guess it doesn’t really make sense out of context. But even as I write this, I hear myself apologizing and wonder why I feel the need to do that. Like, a part of me wants to shout, “Hey! I’ve never had a dance lesson in my life! And I’m a mom with three kids. I’m not that bad with all things considered!”

But why do I even feel the need to justify my dancing? I’m dancing to feel joy, to remind myself I make my choices everyday whether to choose joy or to stay small and sad. I dance because it makes me feel good and I like sharing my videos to inspire others not to feel trapped by the world’s expectations.

Most people expect dance videos to be shared because the dancer is awesome. Well, you know what? I AM awesome, but I’m not a professional dancer. I’m awesome because I’m not afraid to be myself and share who that me is at the moment. I want to show the world that you don’t have to be a professionally trained singer or dancer or ANYTHING to want to share the joy you feel doing those things with the world.

We can just sing or dance or cook or write or run or tell jokes because it makes us feel alive. And sometimes feeling alive is all that matters.

And here I go again, apologizing for my video today: my camera battery was flashing, so I didn’t know if I’d have enough juice to get today’s video shot and then I started dancing to discover I had zero energy and didn’t know if I could make it through the song. The whole video, you may pick up on my mind saying, “I should quit. Why am I doing this? I can’t even make it through this one song. I’m going to quit…no, almost through…power through…”

Wow, no Zen mind here today.

Time Management

I remind myself that time is the one thing we all have equal amounts of, but with three kids and two jobs, it often feels like I’m on the short end of the receiving line.

I just finished working on a large grant for the literacy center where I volunteer. It feels so good to finish a looming project and really be done with it, to be able to check it off the mental list of things needing to be done.

There are enormous lists of projects I want to accomplish, but the hard part is always trying to decide which to focus on next and right when I think I’ll have a few moments to work uninterrupted, something else calls to me (often quite literally it is a small human tugging on one of my body parts).

Then all the daily work “needs” shout louder to be dealt with: take care of the kids and the home, write lesson plans for two colleges, grade papers and other assorted administrative stuff, then there are health and relationship issues to be dealt with.

And all of a sudden it’s Midnight and I’ve got nothing “extra” accomplished for the day. I think I need to set time, even if it is a tiny amount of like 30 minutes a day, to work on new writing projects. If I commit to it, just as I’ve committed to dancing and reflecting on my mental state every day, maybe I can squeeze out a few more valuable minutes out of the day.

Or I could just take a chill-pill and be happy with getting done the basics, but I think that’s not healthy overall for me. If I’m not working on something, writing something, plotting something, I think that’s when I become stagnant and depressed.

Now to figure out where I’m getting those extra thirty minutes from…

Baby Steps...I Kept My Cool!

Do you ever notice how things happen in clumps?

Like if someone sneezes twice, it’s likely they’re going to sneeze a third time. If a few people die, you’re almost waiting for the next phone call.

That seems to be happening with me in the technological area the last few days. First, a grant I’m helping to write for a literacy center that I volunteer with—the website I was inputting all the data into crashed (or rather my computer crashed) and none of it was saved and I had to go back and re-input all the info.

Now, I make a video on the same camera I’ve been using for two weeks and all of a sudden it won’t upload.

Won’t. Do. It.

I had to remake the video and make it shorter; I’m thinking the computer won’t transfer a video longer than five minutes or something.

Frustrating.

I’ve been watching myself the whole time. Watching my reactions to these frustrations that are kind of out of my control. Seriously, it’s like I’m this little bird fluttering above my head and watching it all go down. And to get really meta on you, I’m also aware of myself above myself, so it’s like a triple-awareness circle going on.

Now here comes the good part. I didn’t lose my cool.

Didn’t. Lose. It. At. All.

Normally, I’d be cursing and blaming the Universe for hating me, but over the last few days I’ve been much more aware of what I can and cannot control and how all I really can do sometimes is say—so what?

I can’t go back in time and change some things and it’s pointless in getting upset about them. Sometimes I just have to say, it happened, what should I do now (besides getting all upset and losing even more time in the process)?

So I made a new video and made it shorter and you know what I learned? That I’m really out of shape (that’s why you’ll notice I kind of petered out at the end there) and I could probably stand to start building up my fitness level with more dancing or more yoga.

And if bad mojo really does happen in clumps, at least I’ll be ready for it.

Honor the Self

One thing I’ve noticed, now that I’m two weeks into doing my daily dance devotion, is that I’m becoming less attached to the outcome every day, which for me is a good thing.

I tend to be perfectionistic and unable to “do” things in front of people that I don’t think I’m good at, which is why dancing and sharing it afterwards is healing for me. At first, I had all kinds of questions about my motivations and what I hoped to achieve from dancing, but every day, it matters less.

I’m finding that a lot of the good feelings I get from dancing and blogging are reverberations of the pride I feel in myself for showing up every day. I suppose it is much like a dedicated yoga practice or a devout religious person who shows up every day to their mat or to their place of worship to begin their day.

Right now, my place of worship, devotion, is here, to myself.

I have carved out this little place (very little, with too many toys, as you will see in today’s video), this little time, this little space to honor myself. To honor whomever shows up on the floor with whatever issues have arisen since last I met myself.

I will honor myself today. I will rise and move today. I will be alive and conscious.

Pump It Up

Today I just need to get my energy moving. I need to be proactive and ignore the voices in my head. I need to do what I know to be good for myself, whether I want to or not.

I cannot focus in on what I feel or don’t feel. I cannot let the deadened me win.

I need to act as if: as if I know who I am, as if I matter, as if life holds meaning, as if I am capable of loving and being loved.

I need to keep returning to this thought today: This is not a permanent state of being.

Just because I cannot access the joy right now does not mean I will never be able to feel it.

I will not deny what is going on for me right now, but I will not give in to it either.

I am capable of joy. If I close my eyes and focus on my heart, I can feel it. The love is still there. I am still there.

I will remind myself to close my eyes at every given possible moment today and tell myself I am.

Remember These Things

Remember to reach out to friends and family whenever I feel myself being pulled under depression’s tidal wave.

Remember that I am valuable.

I do not need others’ approval to have value.

Stop judging myself for what I feel.

Remember my value and be of service to those who suffer like me.

I am not alone.

I do have value and that’s why I’m dancing—to remind myself of it every day. To feel my body move. To challenge myself to acceptance. To see myself as I truly am, warts and all. To celebrate life. To feel good, if only for a few minutes.

I do not need to be anything the world wants me to be. All I have to do is be me and value that person.