Hiatus

I have always prided myself on being open to love, even after heartbreak. I've met people who have closed off their hearts after being betrayed by their loved one, and while I don't judge them for their decision, it is not how I want to live my life. This is also why, although I've had partners who have been dishonest, I still choose to start off a relationship trusting the other person.

A few weeks ago, my therapist suggested that I consider getting a cat. She thought it would help to combat my loneliness and to discharge negative energy. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am not an animal person, but I, too, have considered getting a cat. But after talking to my friends about it and imagining what it would be like to have a cat here in my darkest moments, I have decided against it. For now, at least.

I realized after this deliberation process that I am not in a place where I am ready to love, take care of, or lose anyone or anything. I am not necessarily closing off my heart, but I still feel too vulnerable, too raw to be open to love at the moment.

I don't like the person I have been in relationships. In my most negative moments, my inner critic uses this against me as evidence that I deserve to be alone. I think it has more to do with the super-empath in me who identifies so much with how the other person feels, I cannot separate my wants and needs from theirs. I think that's one of the reasons I convinced myself that I loved people who loved me; I became what they needed me to be.

As cliche as it sounds, I really don't know who I am or what I want in a relationship. I am hoping that if I can be free from the wants and needs of others, I will eventually have a better sense of what my own wants and needs are. I have already been surprised by how much I enjoy my solitude--most of the time. How freeing it is not to have my mood be so tied to how my partner is feeling. My mood is all over the place as it is. I now realize how overwhelming it was when I felt everything for the two of us.

So I'm taking a long overdue hiatus from relationships. I am hoping this will lead to wiser decisions about matters of the heart. And if the hiatus ends up being longer than expected, I can always take my therapist's advice and adopt a cat.

Joy and Pain

I finally saw The Fault in Our Stars the other day. I thought that the movie was true to the book but wasn't long enough to include all the scenes that I loved. But I guess no one else would be interested in a 10 hour movie.

One of the things they left out was the discussion of whether we need to experience pain in order to know joy. In the book Hazel repeatedly says she doesn't believe this: "the existence of broccoli in no way affects the taste of chocolate." I thought that this was such a compelling argument that for awhile I forgot all of the research I've read that supports the joy-pain connection.

Hazel worries about how her death will hurt the people who love her. She is afraid that her parents won't have a life after she dies. She pushes Augustus away because she doesn't want to be a grenade. But Augustus cannot be dissuaded: "you don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have some say in who hurts you."

This whole joy and pain thing is actually why I have so much trouble with endings. I look forward to having the summer off but by the 2nd day of summer I start obsessing about how my vacation is running out. I suffer from existential anxiety about death and aging. Even coming to the end of books like this one is difficult because I don't want to have to say good-bye to characters like Hazel and Augustus.

When I read the book I didn't fully appreciate Hazel's obsession with knowing what happens to the characters at the end of "An Imperial Affliction," which ends in mid-sentence because the narrator dies of cancer. But after watching the movie, I understand. Hazel wants reassurance that life will go on for her parents after she dies.

I've always thought that life was kind of cruel in this way. My heart may be broken but the world doesn't seem to care. Life goes on, despite my pain. It's kind of insulting, really.

But now I think it's a good thing. Life isn't like a book or a movie that begins with joy but ends with pain--and wisdom. Life is more like a series of stories, where we have more joy--and pain--ahead of us. More people to love. More summers to look forward to.  More books to read. So I'm looking forward to the next installment.

I think this doodle looks like lightning bugs.

Birthday Reflections

So I'm reading The Fault in Our Stars for book club, which is told from the perspective of a 16 year old girl with cancer, and guess what? I still talk like a teenager. Yup. Some of her comments could have come straight from my blog.

Even though I turn 45 today, I guess I can consider this a compliment, since this is a best seller with a movie that is a box office hit and has gotten great reviews. So if I sound immature, at least it's in a way that people can relate to. And if you've read the book, then you know that Hazel Grace is no ordinary 16 year old. For example, she refutes the adage that without pain, we cannot know joy by pointing out that "the existence of broccoli does not in any way affect the taste of chocolate." I love that!

Still, I find it ironic to discover that I still talk like a teenager as I hit what is irrefutably middle age. I thought I would be OK with it, because it's not like I didn't know I was middle-aged. And as long as I don't hit a prime number, I'm usually fine. And 45 is divisible by 3 and 5, so I figured I was safe until I turned 47. But no. Mother Nature likes to rub it in your face that you are becoming an old lady, and I received a couple of early birthday gifts just to make sure I was aware of this. 

Before someone sends me that quote about how old age is a privilege that not everyone gets to benefit from, let me preempt you by saying that I am grateful for my life. It's just that signs of getting older bring up that feeling that I talked about in the Beginnings and Endings post. Sadness about the loss of gifts that I had not even been aware of until I began to lose them. Anxiety about the losses to come. Panic about how fleeting time is. 

I am afraid I am not one of those brave souls who will embrace aging with grace and dignity. I'm pretty sure I'm going to go kicking and screaming, fighting it every step of the way. I guess this is one of the downsides of being a warrior. 

I've been thinking about what I could say in this post for several days now. I was really struggling with how to make it positive, since my goal is to be honest, and I have honestly been in a place of sadness and anxiety about getting older. 

But I pray about blog posts, too. I pray that God will give me the inspiration to come up with something to say that will be helpful to someone, even if that someone is just me. So far, God has always answered this prayer. Today was no exception.

This morning, as I warned my inner critic that it was not allowed to make me feel guilty about sleeping in on my birthday, I leisurely checked out my birthday messages on my phone and FB, and I was humbled by how many of them there were so early in the morning. Well, early in the morning for me, at least. And I got the message: the one gift that will grow with age is love. 

The feelings of love that I have for others will only deepen, as will their love for me. And as I get older, the more people I include in the circle of who I care about. Blogging, which I also consider a gift from God, has dramatically increased the number of people who have been brought into my life. So I have a great deal of love to look forward to, for as long as I may live.

Plus, I will always have an inner infant, Sophie, and now a teenager, as well as a slew of other parts in my internal family. They are always vying for my attention, letting me know that they are there, whether I want to hear from them or not. Through the process of blogging--and aging--I am learning that these parts I've been at war with also love me, although they show it in ways that are sometimes annoying.

So I am thankful to God, and to all of you, for reminding me on my birthday how blessed I am with love.

Swashbucklers Anonymous

My name is Christy Barongan and I am a swashbuckler.

I mentioned in a previous post that I'm reading The Art of Empathy in an attempt to help me with my hyperempath problem. I finished the chapter on empathic love, and it is so true of me that it freaked me out. I almost had a panic attack and had to take a nap afterwards.

In this chapter she lists 4 impediments in a potential mate: 1) a lack of emotional skills, 2) an active addiction, 3) unhealed childhood trauma, and 4) the presence of a toxic ex-mate. These impediments are practically criteria for a relationship for me. I like challenges, but come on! This is ridiculous! Reading this list drove home the fact that most my relationships had little chance of succeeding from the start.

Ironically, reading this chapter also helped me to not beat myself up about my relationship choices. I am drawn to people with these problems for the same reason that I chose to be a psychologist. I want to help people. I believe everyone is capable of turning their life around, and I am confident that I can help them do it. I never back down from a challenge, and I never give up. These are all qualities that I'm proud of.

However, I am beginning to realize that every challenge has a cost. Even if I do something I enjoy, like play tennis, write a blog post, or talk to my brother, it drains me mentally and physically. Which is OK. I love doing these things, so it's worth it. But in the past, having the ability to help someone was reason enough to do it. Whether I wanted to do it or not was irrelevant because my wants and needs didn't count. And I never paid attention to the impact that giving so much of myself had on my well-being.

In a way, that's one of the benefits of being prone to depression and anxiety and of having allergies, GERD, and asthma. Now I have to pay close attention to everything I do and how it will affect me. I have to be intentional about all of my choices. It's a pain, but it forces me to take care of myself.

Also, when I choose to do something challenging, most of the time I'm not too attached to the outcome--except in relationships. I'd like to move up to 4.0 in tennis, but if I don't, I'll just keep trying. Same with writing a best seller. I know the odds aren't in my favor, but I enjoy the process, and if it never happens I won't be devastated. I don't even take it personally when I can't help a client get better.

If I had the same attitude in relationships--that I gave my best effort, and that's all I can do--then perhaps I wouldn't feel like such a failure in them.

It also helps that McLaren calls people like me swashbucklers rather than codependents or love addicts. She describes swashbucklers as people on a heroic journey filled with impossible tasks and mythical beasts. Sort of like relationship warriors. But like Odysseus at the end of his adventures, I think I'm ready to come home.

Maybe I can use my superhero skills to save myself.  After all, who is better qualified to help me than me? I don't even have to do it alone. I could create a support group for hyperempaths. A 12 step program for swashbucklers, if you will. I think it could be a big hit.

So if you're interested in participating, let me know.

Strength

In honor of Mental Health Awareness Month and Mother's Day, I am featuring a guest blogger, my youngest brother Romeo Barongan. He has been featured in several posts, including Hard Core Fan, The Best Valentine's Day Gift, and Let it Go. This post is an example of how good things can come from depression--like wisdom, gratitude, love, and strength.

Strength is not about how I look on the outside; but about what I’m made of on the inside. It’s not about how much weight I can lift; but about the burdens I’m able to bear….what I’m willing to endure when the cause is just. After a life of trying to keep up with the Big Boys in the gym, I’ve learned that strength isn’t about the body but the soul. In honor of Mother’s Day, I wish to acknowledge my own Mom for helping me realize the definition of true strength. While I have been striving to acquire strength of body, my Mom has consistently demonstrated strength of character.

I feel the need to create some context for the journey about which I will relay shortly. My parents are both successful professionals. They reared three over-achieving children. And then I came along to round our family of six. I’m not selling myself short or looking for pity; I’m no failure. But growing up as the youngest child in a household so rift with talent created a seemingly impossible path to follow. To worsen matters, people outside the family often chided me for my privileged upbringing. They would disregard my success with statements like, “Anyone could do that if their parents had the money yours do.” They disparaged me for my work ethic in the classroom & relative inexperience in blue collar affairs. “Spoiled rich boy should learn to do real man’s work & get his hands dirty every once in a while.” I wanted to prove that I was a “real man.” I had to show the world that I wasn’t the sheltered doctor’s son that they accused me of being. I would force the world to see that I was indeed strong.

I hit the gym hard. I tried to be more “blue collar” without the benefit of knowing exactly what being blue collar actually meant. It was an unusually painful separation when I finally moved out of my parent’s house to strike it out on my own. We’re such a close family with traditional Eastern culture values; I think my parent’s perceived it as a mild insult when their then 25-yr-old youngest son decided to leave their house. But I was driven by the need to establish the obligatory self-sufficiency that comes with adulthood. I had to prove not only to the world but to myself that I wasn’t the helpless youngest son of a privileged family. I had to prove I was normal; that I was “strong.”

The older I’ve gotten, the more I appreciate how amazing my parents are. Dealing with the often overwhelming constant bombardment or adult responsibilities is enough to suffocate me on most days. My career barely involves a fraction of the level of pressure & high stakes that characterized my parent’s careers—and yet, they were able to succeed & still have the time to make me feel like I was the center of their universe. All this year, I’ve been struggling with a life crisis that I tried to keep to myself & resolve on my own. I didn’t want to worry my poor Mother who has more than enough on her plate. I just had to “cowboy-up” & go it alone. But I recently broke down & shared my struggle with her. It’s ironic: I spent most of my 20’s trying to establish my independence in an effort to uphold my obligations as an adult. Now in my late 30’s, I realize that no matter how much I “grow up”, I’ll never outgrow a parent’s love. And I’ll never be too old to realize how much I love & need my parent’s in my life.

I used to think that I was strong after a good workout in the gym or after standing up to a bully twice my size. But then I see my Mom at 70-yrs-old adapt to the computerized healthcare industry to order to extend her 40-year career as a doctor. I see her remain active in the Church & community on her off days. I see her remain the dutiful wife to my Father. And I benefit from her seemingly never-ending support in my own life. I was looking at myself in the mirror after a solid workout this morning when I began to think that strength is too great a quality to be measured in a single act; & certainly too immense to assess through anything we can see in a mirror. With my reflection staring back at me, I realized that I had been strong on this day; but there were far more days when I hadn’t been. With Mom, there’s never an off day. Her love knows no limits. Her commitment to those she loves never wavers. Today, I want to thank her for helping me realize where true strength lies—otherwise, I could have spent my whole life looking strength in all the wrong places instead of summoning it from my own heart.  Even on my best day, I’m not half as strong as my Mom is every day. But I am making progress. For example, I used to be afraid of telling the people in my life how important they were to me----afraid of sounding sappy or weak. But now, all I’m afraid of is failing to be sincere. I love you, Mom. Thanks for everything. And Happy Mother’s Day to you & all the Mothers out there. Oh, & if you haven’t already done so; please don’t be afraid to let your own mom what she means to you. Thanks for reading.

Grace

I've received a lot of comments from readers lately about being too hard on myself. Which is a little scary, because these comments were in response to posts where I purposely avoided criticizing myself. But perhaps people know me well enough by now to know what I'm thinking, even if I don't say it out loud.

It's hard to be honest about how these comments make me feel, because I don't want to seem ungrateful. But if I'm afraid to say it, that probably means I should say it.

When I read comments that are meant to be supportive, I feel a little angry and defensive. I feel like I'm being told that I'm failing at self-improvement. The words forgiveness, self-compassion, and self-acceptance are in almost every single post, so it's not like I don't know that's my problem; I'm just not getting better at them fast enough, apparently.

This morning as I was driving to work, I realized something about my reaction to these comments. I realized that they are hard to take in because it's hard to take in love--love from others, love for myself, and love from God.

I have spent the last week in an email exchange with a loyal reader and friend who is trying to convince me that I don't need to work so hard to earn God's approval because God already loves me just as I am, in all of my glorious imperfection. I know that's true for other people, but something in me resists believing that it's true for me.

You would think it would be a relief to hear the thing that you most want to hear, but it often isn't. You don't want to let yourself off the hook. You don't want to risk being too full of yourself. You might get complacent. You might become a sloth--which is a deadly sin.

That's how the Inner Critic is for people like me. It's like an abusive partner who does everything it can to make you feel bad about yourself as a way to keep you dependent on it. It uses the language of morality and turns it against you.

In therapy I address this part by telling clients that once they leave my office, the Inner Critic will try to undo all of the progress we have made. That perhaps it is even talking to them now while we are in session, telling them not to listen to me. It helps to let them know that I know all of its tricks.

I also tell clients that accepting love is a gift, and rejecting it hurts the giver. These clients are highly motivated to do good, so it is often eye-opening to reframe self-criticism as a form of rejecting others.

When I thought I could blog my way to self-acceptance, I assumed that sharing my vulnerabilities with the world would be sufficient. It helps, but it's not enough. Without feedback from others, it's still just me and the Inner Critic, duking it out.

In therapy, I tell clients that they are worthwhile as many times as it takes for them to believe it. Maybe that's how blogging works, too. I will continue to write about what my demons say, and readers will keep telling me that I'm being too hard on myself, and I will get pissed off, but eventually I will believe them. Maybe one day the Inner Critic will lose its power to make me feel bad about myself.

Maybe God works through blogs, too.

The Emotional Life of Your Brain

I just finished reading The Emotional Life of Your Brain, and although I started losing interest towards the end, it presents an interesting view of personality that is worth sharing.

Based on brain research, Davidson identifies 6 dimensions of personality:

1)  Resilience (fast or slow to recover from adversity)

2)  Outlook (negative or positive)

3)  Social Intuition (puzzled or intuitive; A.K.A. emotional intelligence)

4)  Self-Awareness (opaque or aware)

5)  Sensitivity to Context (tuned out or tuned in)

6)  Attention (unfocused or focused)

If you are interested in where you fall on each of these dimensions, click on the link above and you will find a short survey. Here were my results, which probably won't surprise anyone who reads my blog:

1)  Resilience: fast to recover

2)  Outlook: positive

3)  Social Intuition: very intuitive

4)  Self-Awareness: very self-aware

5)  Sensitivity to Context: very tuned in

6)  Attention: focused

As with most personality dimensions, the goal is to move your set point closer to the middle. In practice, however, one end of the spectrum is usually more desirable than the other. Here are the advantages and disadvantages of each extreme:

1)  Resilience: Being too fast to recover may make you less compassionate and seem unfeeling and insensitive to others. Being slow to recover makes it difficult for you to function and you may focus more on your pain than on other people. But usually people try to learn how to be more resilient.

2)  Outlook: A negative outlook puts you at risk for depression and annoys other people. An overly positive outlook makes it difficult for you to learn from your mistakes and postpone immediate gratification. But usually the goal is to develop a more positive outlook.

3)  Intuition: Being too intuitive may make it difficult to function because you're constantly picking up other people's negativity. (Hmmm. That sounds familiar). People who are at the puzzled end may have problems in all aspects of their lives in which they have to interact with other people--which is essentially all aspects of life.

4)  Self-Awareness: Being opaque makes you prone to missing signs of illness and make you unable to take care of yourself. Being too self-aware can make you a hypochondriac. But in general, it's better to be self-aware.

5)  Sensitivity to Context: Being tuned out might make you feel and act in ways that aren't appropriate to the situation (e.g., anxiety disorders). Being too tuned in can make you prone to losing touch with your true self because you are constantly changing your behavior to fit the social situation. But usually people try to be more tuned in.

6)  Attention: Being too focused annoys people because you don't pay attention to them when you're doing something. And you tend to "not see the forest for the trees." Being unfocused puts you at risk for ADHD. But usually people want to learn how to be more focused.

Guess what the best way is to move toward the resilient, positive, intuitive, self-aware, tuned in, attentive end? Meditation! My favorite meditation guru is Jack Korfield, and on his webpage he goes through the 5 basic meditations:

1)  Meditation on Compassion

2)  Walking Meditation

3)  Forgiveness Meditation (which I really need to practice)

4)  Sitting Meditation

5)  Lovingkindness Meditation

Jon Kabat-Zinn also teaches meditation for Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR), but you have to pay for his stuff. You could also seek out a therapist who specializes in MBSR.

So there you have it--your cheat sheet for "The Emotional Life of Your Brain." It took several months for me to get through the book, so feel free to make a donation to the Federer Fund if you found this helpful. Tickets to Grand Slam or ATP Masters 1000 events are also acceptable.

This doodle sort of looks like a brain. And it has 6 different colors--one for each personality dimension.

Memory

I love the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." I love the idea that even if you take the memories away, the love between two people remains. And I like the message that we must experience pain in order to experience joy. But lately I've been wishing I could erase the painful memories from the past 10 years.

Let me first say that I am thankful for my memory, lest I be struck down with dementia for being ungrateful. It helps in my job because clients expect you to remember everything they've told you from the first session on. And when you see 30+ clients a week, that's a lot of stuff to remember.

The most painful memories help me to have more compassion for other people's suffering. When I was depressed, I could not conceive of any possible value that could come from my pain. But now that my brother is depressed, I am better able to help him because I know what he's going through. You're not afraid to sit with other people's pain once you know firsthand how lonely it is.

My memory also helps me capture the intensity of my feelings when I write about my experiences, which hopefully makes my blog better. I am guessing that most writers have good memories and intense feelings. But sometimes it can be a tough combination. That's probably why writers are so neurotic.

Lately there have been some memories that I wish I could forget. Or at least remember without feeling like it's happening all over again. It's almost like having PTSD, reliving these hurtful experiences every time they pop up.

Yesterday I remembered how my first husband told me while we were separating that I have a heart of gold. He said it was the happiest day of his life on our wedding day and the saddest day of his life when we signed the divorce papers. How can you feel that way about someone and still choose to leave them? What good does it do to have a heart of gold if it doesn't help you make a relationship work? In a way I am thankful that he was loving through the entire process, but sometimes I wish I didn't remember how I felt at all.

The letting go process in my second marriage has been just as painful. It hurts just as much now as it did 4 years ago. It still makes me cry. Every step we take away from each other renews my sadness. When will this grief subside? That whole one year estimation is a bunch of crap. I wish I could just forget the past 4 years--all the pain and all the stupid things I did to try to ease the pain that just made things worse.

The only memories I would miss from the past 4 years are the first trip when my mixed doubles team went to districts, getting Federer's autograph at the Cincy tournament, and UVA's basketball season this year. Which makes me seem like some superficial sports fanatic, but it's true. In my defense, part of what made these experiences memorable is that I shared them with my friends and family. I'm sure there were other positive memories worth holding on to during that period of time, but I can't think of any at the moment. Right now, all I remember is the pain.

The only good thing about this second divorce is that it helps me understand how you can love someone and still let them go, even when it breaks your heart. I'm not angry at my first husband any more for leaving. I understand why he did it. It doesn't alleviate the pain of either loss to realize this, but I have a better appreciation for how complex love and marriage are. That's something.

Today I'm not able to do the things I try to focus on in my blog--practice self-forgiveness, self-acceptance, and self-compassion. But maybe tomorrow I'll feel differently.

God's Will

It feels incomplete to talk about blame and free will without also talking about God's will.  This one is the scariest of the 3 to write about, but I'm committed to being honest, so I'm making myself do it.

When I was in high school, my best friend's father died of a heart attack in his early 40's.  During the funeral, his best friend broke down crying while giving the eulogy.  My friend's mom calmly took his place, saying that she believed her husband's death was God's will so she was at peace with it. 

That really bothered me.  I was glad that it gave her comfort, but I could not fathom how God could want someone to die.  If deaths are God's will, how can it be a sin to commit suicide?  Or murder, for that matter.  Or acts of terrorism.  All of these deaths would just be a part of God's plan; these people were simply fulfilling their roles.  In fact, sin wouldn't even be possible.

There is someone in our tennis community who is reaching the end of her battle with cancer.  Although I did not know her well, I was struck by how positive and kind she was when I met her last year.  She was in the midst of chemo at the time, and she was my opponent on the court.  And she kicked my ass.  Which was both impressive and upsetting, given my competitive nature.

I have been praying for her and her family, but I struggle with what to ask God for if death is, in fact, part of God's plan for her.  I know some people don't believe in God for this reason.  Or if God exists, they don't want to worship a God who would allow people to suffer.  I wouldn't go that far.  It is clear from the life of Christ and the teachings of Buddha, and probably most religions, that no one is immune to suffering. 

I accept that, but it's still hard to tolerate.  I try to imagine what it would be like to be her or her loved ones, but I can't.  My brain won't let me go there.  It's too painful.  Too much to bear.  I can't envision surviving a loss like that, even though I know that somehow I would if I had to. 

I do my usual prayer.  Because we're allowed to ask, even if we don't always get what we want.  God, if at all possible, please let her have a miraculous recovery.  And then I say a more realistic prayer.  Please minimize their suffering to the extent possible.  Please  surround them with love, to mitigate the pain. 

I am no theologian, but based on the story of Adam and Eve, one thing is for certain: God wants us to have free will.  We, too, have the power to say no.  We can choose not to follow God's plan.  We can choose not to love God, or not to love at all. 

In the midst of tragedies, the people involved always say that they are humbled by the outpouring of love and support from people they don't even know.  That it does mitigate the pain.  So I will continue to pray for this member of the tennis community and her family.  If love can ease their pain, then I will choose love.

 

The Best Valentine's Day Gift

I've gotten a lot better at this being alone thing.  But the one thing I have dreaded is today, Valentine's Day.  The day that singles people everywhere are told that they suck.  It's the first time in a long time that I have no one to celebrate it with.

Despite all of my declarations about how I was no longer going to subject myself to the media's brainwashing after the Aqua-Fresh toothpaste incident, I still want to celebrate Valentine's Day.  Yes, its a made-up holiday, but so what.  It's an excuse to eat chocolate, go to a nice restaurant, give and receive gifts.  It's a chance to celebrate, and I'll take any excuse I can get to celebrate.

But I've been trying to put this disappointment in perspective.  When I was married, both husbands forgot Valentine's Day one year, and that really sucked.  So it's not like being in a relationship guarantees that you'll have a good Valentine's Day.  To be honest, most of them haven't even been that memorable.

In fact, the gifts I remember the most are the ones from my dad.  When I was younger he always bought a heart-shaped box of chocolates for my mom and me.  I had the smaller box, of course.  And last year he gave me this beautiful necklace with a gold heart pendant that says "For my daughter" on one side and "You are my pride and joy" on the other side.  What guy can compete with that?

And the best card I've ever gotten was from my baby brother, Romeo.  I was 16 at the time, and I was talking to a friend on the phone, lamenting the fact that I wasn’t going to get anything for Valentine's Day—not even a card.

Then for some reason I was talking about my fears of death and getting old, which I told you about in a previous blog.  Romeo was playing on the living room floor, seemingly oblivious to my conversation.  But when he heard me talk about getting old, he stopped playing and said that he was afraid of getting old, too.  He was 9 at the time, so maybe the fear of aging runs in my family.

A few minutes later, Romeo came running down the hall, telling me that he made a card for me.  I had forgotten how quickly you can make a card when you’re a kid.  It was made with blue construction paper and a red crayon.  There were some hearts and a Happy Valentine’s Day on the front.  And inside he wrote that I didn't need to worry about getting old and that he loved me. Or something to that effect.  I wasn't able to read it very clearly, what with the tears and all.

After that I understood why parents prefer the cards that their kids spend 5 minutes making over the cards that their kids spend 5 minutes buying at Hallmark.  I have received many Valentine’s Day cards since then, and that one is by far my favorite.

Maybe it's good that I was alone on Valentine's Day this year.  My solitude has given me the opportunity to realize that I've never been alone on Valentine's Day.  I've always been loved and always will be loved by my family.   And there's no better gift than that, really.

Starting Over

In my post on breakups, I talked about how sad it is that at the end of a relationship, someone who you once loved and chose to spend the rest of your life with could become someone who you hate and don't recognize anymore.  How can both of those things be true?  Was this other person always there, lurking beneath the surface of the person you thought you knew?  It's hard to reconcile. 

But then sometimes those two people who hated each other are able to put the past behind them and try again.  I am all about forgiveness, but if someone hurt me that badly, I'm not sure I would be able to give him a second chance. 

First of all, there's the issue of trust.  As I mentioned in a previous post, I can be too trusting.  However, once I have been wronged, I never forget it.  And every time I remember what they did, I get upset all over again.  Starting over would require leaving all of those past grievances behind, and I'm not sure my memory and my obsessive nature would allow me to do so. 

Then there's the issue of whether I could trust my judgment.  If I thought I knew the person the first time and I was wrong, how would I know if I were reading the person accurately now?  Ordinarily I'm pretty good at reading people.  But sometimes I can be in denial--especially if knowing the truth would mean letting go of the relationship.  Could I trust that I would go into it this time with my eyes wide open?

Granted, sometimes it's not about an error in judgment.  Some people are really good at hiding.  But that's scary, too.  If he fooled me before, would I know if he were hiding now? 

And then there would be the opinions of other people.  Which I know you're not supposed to care about, but I do.  Would they think I'm foolish for giving him another chance?  Even if they didn't tell me that they disapproved, I would know.  I would feel it.  And it would be hard for me to share anything about the relationship with them.  I would feel ashamed, even if I were trying not to care about their opinion.

Despite these reservations, If I had to make a prediction about what I would do, my guess is that I would give it a shot, because I'm an optimist.  That's what allows me to cheer for a losing team and to believe I can come back in a match when I'm down 0-6, 0-5.  I believe in miraculous comebacks.

Sometimes people are afraid to try again because they're afraid to get hurt again.  That doesn't usually stop me.  If they hurt me once before, it's not like it would be some big shock if it happened again.  And if I survived it the first time, I could survive it again.  And then I would know for sure that it can't work. 

Plus, no one can predict the future.  No one knows for sure what will happen.  Love requires a leap of faith.  Yes, you may fall, but without taking that leap, you never get anywhere.



46 Lessons Learned from Blogging

Since the original intent of my blog was to help other people, I thought I'd provide a cheat sheet of the lesson in each post (except for the random ones).  That way, you don't have to go back and read the whole blog if you don't want to.  But hopefully you will!

1.  Night Owl Syndrome:  Prejudice against night owls is a form of discrimination that has been perpetuated in part by Ben Franklin.

2.  Massages:  Massages are not as relaxing when you obsess the entire time about how much they cost.

3.  Knitting and Relationships:  Challenge yourself every now and then, but you don't have to knit a dress.

4.  Positive and Negative Feedback:  It's easier to believe erroneous negative feedback than it is to accept legitimate positive feedback.

5.  Karaoke Pusher:  Singing in front of other people is a good way to let go of fear.

6.  You Know You're Filipino If...:  Things that embarrassed you as a kid will make great anecdotes when you get older.

7.  The Courage to be Vulnerable:  Sharing your vulnerabilities with others makes people feel closer to you.

8.  The Unathletic Athlete:  Even if you were picked last in gym class, you can still grow up to be an athlete.

9.  Tennis Courtships:  Someone needs to come up with a website that can help tennis players find a doubles partner.

10.  The Uses of Prayer:  Sometimes God answers your prayers by giving you opportunities rather than results.

11.  Boundaries:  Being Asian makes setting boundaries even more difficult than it already is.

12.  Massages, Part 2:  Don't drink coffee before a massage--even decaf.

13.  Boundaries, Part 2:  Blogging is a good way to let people know that you don't want to be told that you're fat.

14.  Children:  Play with your inner child every now and then.

15.  Can Love Conquer All?  No, but it's still worth the risk.

16.  Body Image:  Small gains are better than nothing.

17.  Hard Core Fan:  It takes dedication to root for a losing team.

18.  Warriorism:  When things get tough, channel your inner warrior.

19.  Self-Portrait:  You can learn a lot about yourself from doodles.

20.  Solitude:  Sometimes when you think you're alone, you're really not.

21.  Self-Acceptance:  We all have different parts of ourselves, many of whom don't get along.

22.  Meet the Drill Sergeant:  Save your inner drill sergeant for emergencies.

23.  The Inner Critic:  Defy your inner critic every change you get.

24.  Thanksgiving:  Miracles really do happen.

25.  Perfectionism:  Blogging about mistakes can help you accept them.

26.  Stress Management:  Sometimes stress management can be stressful.

27. Self-Care:  Blogging is a good way to put yourself first.

28. Grief:  The best thing we can do for someone who is grieving is to be willing to listen to them talk about their pain.

29.  Yes and No:  Learn to say yes to what you want and no to what you don't want.

30.  Blogging is My New Boyfriend:  You can't fail if you never stop trying.

31.  Friendship:  Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it.

32.  Empathy:  If you're high in empathy, choose your friends and partners wisely.

33.  Breakups:  If you're relationship is ending, try to leave with love rather than hate.

34.  In Times of War:  Make choices you can live with, regardless of the outcome.

35.  Angels:  If you ask people to send you angels when you're struggling, they will--and it works.

36.  Forgiveness:  For people with a harsh inner critic like me, self-forgiveness is the hardest part.

37.  Gratitude:  Practicing gratitude may not turn your depression into happiness, but do it, anyway.

38.  Love:  Our love may never be perfect, but I think God is OK with that.

39.  Forgetting:  Forgiveness is a process.

40.  Moms:  Moms are often unsung heroes, so thank them every chance you get.

41.  New Year's Resolutions:  Restating your resolutions every year is not a sign of failure; it demonstrates that you are choosing to live intentionally.

42.  In My Head:  I thought I was weird for thinking so much, but it turns out that it means I'm a writer!

43.  Bipolar and Brilliant:  You can be brilliant and mentally ill, but you can also be dumb and refuse to take your medication.

44.  Night Owl Syndrome, Part 2:  It takes practice to let go of unnecessary guilt.

45.  Competitive Latch-Hooking:  Sometimes the sibling that was your mortal enemy in childhood becomes your most loyal blog follower as an adult.

46.  Honesty and Trust:  Surround yourself with honest people; it takes less energy than being paranoid.

Love

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

***

I don't mean to sound blasphemous, but I've always had a problem with this definition of love.  I have never been able to love anyone in this way, nor have I ever been loved in this way.  Not from another human being, at least.  This may be the way that God loves us, but for me, this standard minimizes the value of the imperfect love that we offer to one another.

Being with my family for several days is a prime example of how painful and complicated love can be. We have all been impatient, unkind, envious, and proud with one another at some point.  I could go through the entire paragraph, but you get the idea.  Yet I have never questioned my love for my family or their love for me. It is the most enduring love that I have known and that I will know in this lifetime.

Perhaps it is my harsh superego and my perfectionism that tortures me with quotes like this one.  My demons turn what is supposed to be a helpful guideline for how to love into something that makes me feel inadequate and guilty. But I know that I am not the only one who feels this way.  I know many people who berate themselves and others for not being able to give and receive this kind of love.

The messages about love that have been most helpful to me are that God is love, and that we are to love our neighbor as ourselves.  I take this to mean that love for self, others, and God are all the same; you cannot truly experience one without the others.

This should come as no surprise to you if you have been following my blog, but for me the most difficult part is loving myself.  And this is often true for the people I see in therapy, too.  It helps to commit to loving myself when I think of it as a necessary part of the equation.  

Surprisingly, blogging has been an opportunity to experience this trinity of love.  As I have mentioned in a previous post, I started this blog with the intention of helping other people.  I was not expecting it to be a way of receiving help.  And I certainly wasn't expecting it to bring me closer to God.  Yet here is another post that ends with God.

Striving to give and receive this kind of love is still a tall order, but for me, it's a more hopeful goal than striving to love perfectly.

Gratitude

Over the past few weeks I have been praying for a way to take in what I love about Christmas. Singing Christmas songs.  The lights and decorations.  The food.  Having my entire family together. And reflecting on the significance of having our Savior born in the most humble beginnings.

I looked at the news headlines about the homily Pope Francis gave last night, and true to my prediction, it was a message of acceptance and forgiveness.  The quote that stood out to me was the reminder that Jesus was all-powerful but he made himself vulnerable for us.  There is great strength in vulnerability; it is His vulnerability that redeems us.

In this blog I have made myself vulnerable by sharing all of the thoughts and feelings that I usually keep to myself.  After writing my post on forgiveness and reading people's responses, that was the most vulnerable I have felt thus far.

People who have never been depressed do not realize what a dark place it is to be in.  For example, "normal" people can make themselves happier by practicing gratitude, by reflecting on people who are less fortunate than themselves, by counting their blessings.  The assumption is that sadness and gratitude are mutually exclusive.

When you are depressed, your demons turn this well-meaning advice into further evidence that you are a bad person for being depressed because you are not able to snap out of it, despite all the things you have to be thankful for.  So it is especially difficult to practice gratitude when you are depressed because it often makes you feel worse.

However, my spiritual guru is the Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr, and one of the most helpful things that he emphasizes is that spirituality is not either/or, as we tend to think in Western religions. It is not good or bad, right or wrong.  Spirituality is both/and.  So I can practice gratitude and still be depressed.  They can both be true, and that's OK.

Today I am already thankful for many things.  I am thankful that the party wasn't as overwhelming as I feared it would be.  That the homily last night had a message that was meaningful to me.  That I've had meaningful conversations with two of my brothers, and in a few hours my other brother and his family will be here.  I am thankful for the friends who have already sent me texts to wish me Merry Christmas.

And I am thankful for this blog.  I think God gave me this blog because He knew that these next few months would be difficult.  So He gave me a way to share my pain, to reach out to others, and to ask for help.  It really is true that making ourselves vulnerable may be the most powerful thing we can do to experience love and connect with other people.  I think that this is what Jesus would want us to experience most of all on His birthday.

So I am thankful to all of you who have taken the time to read my blog on Christmas Day.  And I thank my friend Sharon for giving me the cartoon below.

Breakups

I have always found it strange that you can be so close to someone that you know all their habits, quirks, and life history, and then you break up and you have nothing to do with them.

Before, you knew what they're schedule was for the day, what they ate for breakfast, what deep and meaningful thoughts they've had, if any.  Now you don't know anything because you're not there anymore, sharing the same space, sleeping in the same bed.

But you also find out that you didn't know the person as well as you thought.  The process of breaking up itself teaches you things about your partner--how they deal with loss, how important you are, how hard they'll fight for something they believe in.

To me, the saddest thing of all is how cruel the other person can be in the breaking up process.  How they can act like someone who never loved you at all.  As though you had never made vows to spend the rest of your lives together.  Suddenly they can become a person who despises you and your sadness.

I've had the good fortune of not being broken up with in this way, but I have to admit, I understand why people do it.  Personally, I preferred the passive approach.  I always had an exit strategy--a guy who conveniently fell in love with me and could help me leave.  A guy whose needs I could focus on to drown out the pain of hurting the other person.

It's shameful to admit, and it's so inconsistent with the person I see myself as being, the person that I strive to be.  But there it is, example after example of exit strategies in my relationship history.

In my second marriage, I toyed with anger and exit strategies, but in the end I decided that I was going to have to stay in the relationship until I could leave in a respectful way.  I had to find a way to be loving to both of us, or I wasn't allowed to leave at all.

I am proud that I did at least honor that commitment.  But I can see why people don't leave in this way.  It's easier to vilify the person to justify why you've left.  Much easier than it is to hurt a good person who didn't do anything to deserve it.

This is the hardest part of the empathy/pick me thing.  Because no matter what happens, you're still going to get hurt.  To this day, it still makes me cry, even as I write this, knowing that I caused him pain.  I think I might even be sadder about it than he is at this point.

The only consolation I can find is that if you at least try to leave in love rather than hate, you minimize whatever pain is in your control.

Friendship

Last night we had our 2nd Annual Charlie Brown Christmas Party.  The party was named after last year's tree, which looked like this:

 

 

This year the tree was more normal looking but my friends were more comedic, as you can see in this picture:

We even had prizes for Christmas attire:  Ugliest sweater, Most Festive, and Prettiest Sweater.  Guess which person won each prize from the picture below:

I am so thankful to have such good friends.

In my first marriage my husband and I were everything to each other--just like in love songs and romantic movies--but we didn't have many friends.  Perhaps at some level we feared that if we told people what our relationship was really like, they would see how fragile our marriage was.

I believe that lessons are often learned from tragedy, pain, and hardship--particularly lessons you don't want to learn.  What I learned from that relationship is that no single person can be everything you need.  And when you lose that person who has tried to be your everything, you are left with nothing. 

So I vowed never to allow myself to be that socially isolated again, and I have done a pretty good job of honoring that commitment.  In addition to playing and captaining all of those tennis teams, I also organize most of our social events and play the MC at the parties, making sure that our time is evenly spent between eating, singing karaoke, and playing board games. 

However, I am still more inclined to play the role of therapist with my friends than friend in need.  And I use all the same excuses that my clients use for not asking for help:  I am a burden, a broken record, a person whose feelings may be too much for other people to handle.  A person who is too needy, too demanding.

I've spent today the way I spend most Saturdays--tired and alone.  I did text a few friends.  And I talked to my brother.  And I'm writing this blog post.  So I'm trying to reach out.  But it will always be more natural for me to help than to be helped.

Perhaps whenever I have doubts about whether my friends want to be there for me, I can look at the deranged elf pictured above and remind myself that only someone who cared deeply about me would pose for a picture that can be posted for all the world to see.

Grief

Tonight I went to the memorial for the student who was killed in the car accident a week ago.  I didn't know the student and wanted to have a better sense of who she was and to feel more of the grief that the community is experiencing. 

Handling crises is my least favorite part of my job. I don't do well with things like grief.  My emotions are naturally very intense even at baseline, so when there's a crisis, I shut down.  I guess this is my brain's way of protecting me from being overwhelmed by my feelings.  In a way it's helpful, since I need to be there for the students, but sometimes I'm afraid I'm so emotionally removed that it's affecting how much support I can provide.

I do feel bad for the parents.  I don't have children but I can imagine how hard it would be to lose a child, how unnatural and unfair that is.  I wonder if they will celebrate Christmas this year, and if Christmas will ever be a happy time for them again. 

And I feel bad for the driver.  He may go to jail for drunk driving, and for the rest of his life he will have to live with the burden of her death.  I hope that he finds a way to forgive himself for what happened and find peace.

Often my friends on FB will post something on the birthday of a loved one who has died and say how the sadness never goes away.  It's daunting to imagine living with never-ending pain--a hole in your heart that never gets filled.  That's why death scares me so much.

For awhile I was really into books about near-death experiences.  I think I read them as a way to be OK with the idea of death.  I found comfort in reading that all of the people who went to heaven and came back to earth thought heaven was so great that they were depressed when they didn't get to stay. 

My favorite part of these books is where they describe how entering heaven is like a pep rally where all of these people, including your loved ones, are there cheering you on and welcoming you.  I don't know if you get to pick your job when you're in heaven, but I think I would be an awesome greeter.  That makes the idea of dying a little easier, too.

The biggest loss I've experienced so far is losing my first husband.  He didn't die but we are not in contact and he does not wish to have a relationship with me, so it's been like a death to me.  

I know I'm probably taking this too literally, but sometimes I wonder, if it's really true that your loved ones greet you when you get to heaven, would he be there to greet me, since we're no longer married?  Or would he just be there for his second wife when she dies?  I imagine that when you are in heaven you can be in two places at once and you don't have to choose which loved ones you will be with like you have to do on earth.

Even though it's been almost 10 years since we've been apart, I still miss him.  We shared so much together that every day I encounter something that triggers a memory of him.  But at the same time, I am happy with my life and feel fortunate that I will get to know more people than I would have if we had stayed married.  So it's possible to be happy and sad at the same.  It's possible to miss someone but still go on with your life.

I guess since we all experience losses throughout our lives, these losses just become a part of who we are.  I have always felt that if I had to do my life all over again, I wouldn't change anything, because every mistake and every loss has played a role in the person I have become.

Plus I believe that our task in this lifetime is to experience what it means to be human, and suffering and death are a part of the package.  Often in therapy clients want me to take away their pain, and I have to tell them that I can't, but I am willing to sit with them while they are hurting.  I guess that is the best gift we can give to anyone who is grieving.  So at least I'm getting that part right.

This is my favorite doodle because it looks like a magical land, like Oz, minus the yellow brick road.

Children, Part 2

I babysat for my niece over the Thanksgiving break, which was tiring but a lot of fun.  I never had a sister growing up but really wanted one, so it's fitting that Sadie likes to pretend that we're sisters.  I told her about Sophie and she wasn't phased at all.  I guess kids don't think it's crazy when you tell them that you have an inner child because so much of their play revolves around their imagination.

Sadie has recently discovered that she's a really good singer, so we started off the day belting out country songs and show tunes on Youtube during breakfast. The song "Tomorrow" has been running through my head for over a week now.  I promised Sadie I would wake up early so the singing started around 7:30 a.m. while I drank my coffee and tried to wake up.

Then, because snow is a rare occurrence in Knoxville, we went sledding in the back yard.  I was never big on sledding even as a kid so I was not expecting this to be much fun but it turned out to be a blast.  I usually try to get exercise by playing tennis or obsessively counting steps, but it's much more fun if you do it by playing, like kids do.  So I counted that as my workout for the day.

After that I took Sadie shopping to buy her very first Christmas gifts with her own money. It was sweet and hilarious to see how excited she was about it.  Not only was this a good lesson in altruism, but it also taught her the value of money.  By the last gift she realized that she didn't have enough to buy a My Pretty Pony or whatever those things are called, so she asked me to buy it for her since she'd been so generous.  How could I say no to that?

We treated ourselves to lunch at the Cheesecake Factory and shared the pumpkin cheesecake.  Which was awesome!  When we got home I helped Sadie wrap her gifts and drank more coffee.  I was still really tired by then so we watched Brady Bunch episodes until her parents came home.  At which point she made them open their Christmas gifts and told them that she bought them with her own money but now she didn't have any left.  They reassured her that she would probably get more money for Christmas. 

I took a nap shortly after their arrival.

One of the less intuitive findings on happiness is that having children does not make people happier on a day-to-day basis, but parents believe that children make them happier to justify all of the hard work in raising them.  Sort of like the principle behind hazing as a way to bond with your fraternity.

I'm not sure I buy that explanation.  Having children isn't about happiness.  It's about love.  And love doesn't always make you happy.  In fact, sometimes it makes you miserable.  But when you choose to love someone, you do it because you want to experience the full range of what it means to be human--even the negative stuff.  And children definitely allow you to experience that full range.

I wrote this blog post because Sadie asked me to write another one about her last week but I never got around to it.  Here is a picture of her modeling her sledding attire.

And here is Sophie's drawing of Sadie and me.

Thanksgiving

There was a time when I questioned whether miracles really occur.  I could not understand why God would intervene in some people's lives but not others in a way that appealed to my sense of justice.  Now I realize that you don't have to understand why for something to be true.

As I await my parents' arrival, I can't help but remember when they came to my house for Thanksgiving two years ago.  At the time, my mom was obsessed with learning how to type to prepare for the dreaded electronic medical records implementation. 

My dad was still in the midst of the worst depression he'd ever experienced.  He was somewhat better than he had been two years prior, but still a shell of the larger-than-life person I had known all my life.  Still, in his compromised state he decided that he, too, would practice typing.  I was encouraged by this, because in his darker moments he barely had the motivation to exist.

Several hours later, he asked me for help.  When I looked at what he was working on, I saw that he had been trying to log on to his email account all of that time.  I wanted to cry.  But at the same time, I admired his determination to master the computer, even though he was no longer practicing medicine and did not have to worry about electronic medical records, and even though his cognitive abilities were greatly diminished. 

I write a lot of blog posts about my affinity for challenges.  It is definitely something that has been instilled in me by my parents, whose favorite motivational poster says "Don't quit."  On that day two years ago I was thankful that the depression had not destroyed my dad's fight.  He was still a warrior, albeit a wounded one.

Last year around Thanksgiving, somehow the depression completely lifted after 3 years, even though nothing had changed in his meds.  It's as though his personality finally broke through and he was exactly the way he had always been, which was essentially in a sustained hypomanic state.  It was truly like seeing someone come back to life. 

These days, he is constantly on FB, commenting on people's pictures and posting copies of every photo album my parents own.  In fact, the only reason he is not on FB right now is because he is on his way to Knoxville.

My dad's recovery is nothing short of a miracle, and every time I think of him I say a prayer of thanks--even though he tells me that I need to lose weight and gives me appetite suppressants.  Actually, he read that post, so now he tells me I look good.  So I'm thankful for blogs, too!

And wouldn't you know that my parents showed up right as I finish this blog post.  God has perfect timing. 

I even have a picture for you today.

Can Love Conquer All?

My first writing assignment was accepted for publication!  Woo hoo!  I have to say, this is a lot like writing papers for English classes in college--something you wouldn't think someone would willingly subject themselves to for a measly $2.50 an hour. 

Here is the link to the article:

http://classroom.synonym.com/can-love-overcome-obstacle-relationship-10003.html

I did not write any personal info in this article, so I will give you some background on how I came to the conclusion that love is not enough to overcome any obstacle in a relationship. 

My first husband and I were very much in love.  I'm not sure I will ever love someone else as much as I loved him.  The odds were stacked against us--he used to refer to himself as a poor, half-breed bastard--but neither of us was the type of person to shy away from a challenge.  There were many people who thought that our relationship wouldn't last, but there were also a lot of people who thought we were the ideal couple.  We worked very hard to save our marriage, but in the end love wasn't enough.

It was a sad lesson to learn, since I have always been a romantic.  I believed that differences in race, class, religion, and family background didn't matter, that stereotypes weren't true, and that even though you had a crazy childhood with lots of traumatic events, you could still have a healthy relationship as an adult as long as you loved each other.  And maybe those things are still possible, but they haven't been possible for me.

But I'm not sorry that we tried.  I'm not sorry that we got married.  I believe that love is a gift, and there are no guarantees that you get to keep any gift forever.  Some people never get to experience the kind of love we had, and I got to have it for 12 years.  And for that I am still thankful.

And I am open to the possibility of loving someone like that again.  I am not going to close my heart off because of how painful it was to lose him.  Love may not be enough to conquer all, but it is still worth fighting for.