Change Of Plan…

Hi friend! Happy Friday Eve!

I was planning to write about depression today, but I changed my mind. The last post was pretty heavy, so I’ll save the depression post for later. Something to look forward to…I guess? Anyway, today I want to talk to you about change. I know, I know…you’re wishing I had just stuck with depression. Nobody likes change. Well, there are some people who do, but there are also some people who like math and I don’t understand them either.

Change CAN be a really great thing, but it can also be very scary. Especially for someone who can come up with five worst-case scenarios in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, I’m not talking about a friend or a friend of a friend. That person is me. I like to be comfortable. I mean who doesn’t? Marathon runners maybe? But, I’ve learned that being comfortable and being content are two different things.

This is a place where I am truly uncomfortable (I mean I could easily fall to my death), but very content.

“Content” is another one of those tricky words. We all want to be content, but we don’t like when someone tells us we should be content. I have been comfortable for the last six years, but I have not been content. Without going into too much detail (until the time is right), I’ll admit that I have devoted the majority of the last six years to a job that I absolutely HATE. Much more to come on this…

I’m teasing this story today because it is on my heart to tell you how valuable you are. You deserve to be CONTENT, not just comfortable. What do I mean by “comfortable” in the context of this post? I’m not talking about plush pillows or good walking shoes, I’m talking about being mentally comfortable. Why do people hate change so much? Fear. Fear of the unknown. People, myself included, would rather stay in a miserable situation than take the risk of finding out what change might have to offer. I have done this so many times y’all…like SO many.

One of my favorite places in the whole world.

I was in an abusive relationship in college, but I stayed for four and a half years. We weren’t married. We didn’t have children together, and he certainly wasn’t financially supporting me. But, I stayed because I was terrified to be alone, terrified to start over. I also feared I wasn’t mentally strong enough to survive a breakup, a tearing apart of everything I had known for over four years. I wish I could tell you that in some moment of empowerment, I left him and never looked back. Unfortunately, that is not the case. HE left ME. I honestly don’t know that I would have ever ended things. I was fully prepared to marry him, knowing that we would be miserable and suspecting we would get divorced.

Short periods of discomfort fall into perspective with a bird’s-eye view.

Have you ever heard the saying, “The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t”? I’ve always thought it was such an interesting idea - the idea that something awful can be better than something unknown because it’s…you guessed it…COMFORTABLE. At the very least it’s familiar, and you know what to expect.

Several years ago I chose “content” as my word of the year. I wanted to truly settle into my life…very different than settling in my life. My goal was to focus on creating a beautiful and peaceful home, nurturing friendships, shopping less and learning to be okay with being alone (I was starting to think I was never going to get married. So, I tried to come to terms with it). I cannot say I mastered contentedness, but I can say I have a much better understanding of the word. Content does not mean the absence of change. Instead, I believe it means being happy, grateful and at peace. The restrictions of comfort are lifted by the freedom that comes with being content.

Take the risk. Be uncomfortable. It’s worth it.

-D

The Little Pink Bunny…

Remember that favorite stuffed animal you used to have? Maybe it wasn’t a stuffed animal. Maybe it was a doll, or a truck, or a blanket, but you took it everywhere…like E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. Can you picture it? I can…because she’s in my closet right this minute. I got “Purple Bunny” when I was about 10 months old…I’m now 32 YEARS old. Needless to say “Purple Bunny” got her name because she was, well…purple. Now…I know I’m not one to talk, but Purple Bunny has aged quite a bit since the 90s. She’s completely gray now. But, I love her just the same. I really considered incorporating Purple Bunny into my wedding, like on the memory table…or in my bouquet…yes, this was a genuine idea.

2022 Purple Bunny

Purple Bunny has always had a way of making me feel secure. She’s quite well-traveled too. I mean, she’s been to Europe (I was 14 at the time…). She’s also been to college; this was never even open for discussion. My eighteen-year-old self had no shame whatsoever about bringing along my “security bunny”. However, despite moving into the dorm with me, for some reason Purple Bunny didn’t make it to K-4 (pre-kindergarten) with me. Maybe my mom thought I would lose her and suggested I leave Purple Bunny at home…I honestly don’t remember. I do, however, remember a little pink bunny. She didn’t have a name. So, mom probably thought it was safe to take her into the chaos that is a room full of four-year-olds.

The only photo I can find of the little pink, nameless bunny. Great quality, I know.

Some of my earliest memories took place in that K-4 classroom. For example, every time I smell grape juice my mind goes straight to Ms. Williams’ class. Unfortunately, the majority of my memories from that year involve me being anxious, scared and uncomfortable. I had never been to any type of daycare or preschool prior to K-4. My Granny came to our house and kept me until I started school. So, it was a major adjustment to go from within the safe walls of my home with Granny to a classroom with approximately 20 other four year olds I didn’t know. As you can imagine, there were some very not fun mornings in 1994.

I have incredibly vivid memories of those mornings, and of that little pink bunny. Ms. Williams would allow me to keep the little pink bunny under my chair for the first part of the morning. I don’t know why, but for some reason having that little nameless pink bunny under my seat made me feel better.

That was my first experience with anxiety, I just didn’t know to call it that at the time. In fact, I really didn’t know what to call it until my late 20s. I have countless memories of being extremely anxious throughout my life. That Europe trip with Purple Bunny? That was my first time going out of the country, and I was terrified of flying over the ocean. The doctor’s office? My best friend was always in the room with me…I literally, just in the last few years, have started going back by myself. Going to college? Forget it. That’s really a post all its own. I was so anxious in the months leading up to that first semester that I lost an excessive amount of weight without even trying. That sounds great to me now…now that my metabolism is aging too, but it wasn’t great then. When I look back at pictures of myself from that first week of freshman year, I get chills. I look so unhealthy…because I was. I was mentally ill, and still didn’t know how to identify it. My first day of college was a lot like my first day of K-4, but there was no little pink bunny. There was no help or comfort at all.

Mental illness was never discussed growing up, at least not in the context of me or anyone around me being mentally ill. My mom suffers from anxiety, as did both of my grandmothers. Unfortunately, neither of my grandmothers knew they suffered from “anxiety”, and the topic certainly wasn’t discussed. Anxiety attack, panic attack, mental health…this terminology was not a part of their vocabulary. It breaks my heart to think how long so many people have suffered in silence. Just now, in 2022, it feels like we are finally identifying and accepting anxiety as a mental illness…and a common one at that. Bringing attention to and normalizing this illness is incredibly important to me because being diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Hear me out… By the time I finally talked to my doctor about anxiety, I had done a little self-diagnosing. I knew I suffered from it, but I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t want to go on medication. I didn’t want to become dependent on pills. I didn’t want my friends and family to judge me, or worse…question the validity of my illness.

I was 27-years-old when I started taking anxiety medication. Twenty-seven… For at least 23 years I battled an illness with no name, no treatment, no improvement. That is why I am so passionate about making mental health a priority. Anxiety is much more common than most people think, and no one should have to deal with its symptoms alone. No one should go years thinking they are different or weird or not like their friends. I remember looking at classmates and friends through the years, and thinking “She doesn’t seem nervous,” or “Why can’t I just be more chill like her?”.

Being diagnosed was like putting a name with a face, as people say. Everything started to make sense. These issues I had spent years trying to suppress had a name and a connection. I’ll get into the specifics of the medications I’ve tried and currently take in a later post. However, I will tell you that going on medication was a great thing for me personally. I felt so much shame in admitting to my mom that I was on anxiety medication, but why? If I had a physical ailment I wouldn’t feel shame over taking medication. So, why should I feel shame over taking medication for a mental ailment? I shouldn’t, and I don’t…now. Now I’m basically screaming it from the rooftops (via the internet).

I wouldn’t wish anxiety on anyone, but I do feel that it has given me a level of empathy and understanding regarding the importance of mental health and THAT is a gift I’m happy to accept. I will be talking a lot about anxiety both here and on my Instagram account (@theblondeessential). This post, despite being much longer than I anticipated, doesn’t even scratch the surface of all I hope to discuss here. So, I hope you’ll come back! I also hope that if you suffer from anxiety, you know that you’re not alone.

Happy Tuesday, friend!

-D

First Blog Post

Hi friend! This is SO exciting. My very first blog post! What do you say in a first blog post? … THE PRESSURE…

First, thank you for being here, reading this post. Having my own blog is a dream come true. I blogged a little in college, but that feels like a lifetime ago. I just ask for your patience as I figure out exactly what I’m doing…in other words, don’t judge the entire blog based on this post. I promise to be more interesting in the future.

Second, I really want this to be a space that exudes inspiration and encouragement. I’m going to be writing about some heavy topics from time to time, but I want to be as transparent as possible when discussing mental health (mine in particular). Tomorrow I’m going to share more about my personal battle with anxiety, and more than anything I hope that my story will be helpful to someone. I truly believe my struggle with anxiety and depression is a ministry opportunity, which in some ways makes me view it as a gift…like a really tricky, difficult, complicated gift.

Third, and finally, if you’ve made it to this point in the post, I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU! I hope you’ve had an amazing start to your week, and I hope you’ll come back tomorrow.

-D