100th Post: Winning

For my 100th post on this blog, I wanted to share something a bit personal and what most people would deem embarrassing or shameful. The reason I share so much about what I’ve been through and where I’m heading is that there shouldn’t be a social stigma for someone suffering from a mental illness, or any illness for that matter. As I continue to work on becoming a Clinical Psychologist, one of the most powerful things I am armed with is my experiences, my story. Here’s another chapter . . .

For the past 5 years, I was a hoarder. A hoarder is someone that, for some reason or another, can not throw anything away. They collect everything – and I do mean everything. Right now, the Mental Health Community isn’t even quite sure exactly how to treat or classify hoarding. It could end up being a separate diagnosis all on it’s own, or a subset of OCD.

One of the mysteries to hoarding, which in turn makes it hard to treat, is why people do it. There’s not one specific answer or cause. My reason started off simply enough . . . I liked to shop. I liked to buy things. I wasn’t happy and I’d get up, go shopping, buy something . . . and feel better. As time drug on, I ended up buying more and more of the same stuff.

Then, some where down the line, I stopped throwing stuff away. I got paranoid that someone might come into my home – they might actually want to come in my house! That kind of freaked me out. My home was my safety – my place to hide from the world. So if my home was not “clean”, therefore no one could come over. It wouldn’t be proper to entertain when your home is not “clean.” It became a very effective way to keep a barrier between me and the rest of the world.

I liked the isolation, and being burrowed in my little hole . . . for awhile. Then something unexpected happened. I met my best friend. Someone that loved me for all of who I am, and she didn’t care about my issues, she just wanted to help me b/c she loved me for who I am. That was kind of cool – and different. I let her in. Not my home mind you . . . but my heart. She didn’t press coming over, she understood. She just let me know that at some point, she wanted to come over. She offered so many times to help me clean, to help me get through it. But I said no . . . inside I felt it had to be something I did myself.

Another thing happened, quite recently. I met someone else. Something completely unexpected happened . . . we went out . . . and the unexpected part was that we had fun – I ENJOYED IT! One night with him showed me the last missing piece – and gave me the rest of the motivation I needed. I realized that I really, REALLY did want to have someone in my life, and in order to do that – I had to stop hoarding. I had to let go of my fear of getting hurt, because in life – you get hurt. I had to tear down the last walls of isolation I had built.

In 5 years I had filled up my 870 sq. foot home with crap. In 4 days, it was clean. (Yes, that picture is a partial picture of everything I threw away . . . there was more than I could get in one shot) It was over . . . all of it was finally over. In the end, I did it. I beat it. I got thru the PTSD, I got over the depression, I reconnected with so many that I’d lost touch with, I am beating my weight issue, and I no longer hoard. I can’t thank God enough for all the blessings he's given me and continues to provide.

With tears of joy in my eyes I say thank you. Thank you for reading this, thank you for learning about me, thank you for understanding. 2009 was one helluva year . . . and 2010 is going to be better. Here’s to another 100 blog entries . . .

Finding My Way

I've been asked often why I moved to Topeka, KS. By family members, friends from Texas, people at work, even friends here. I never could come up with an answer.

I didn't know anyone that lived here. I'd lived my whole life in Texas, and all but 4 years within 100 miles of Ft. Worth. So, while working at the Target DC in Tyler, TX - word came down that they were opening a new center in Midlothian. I jumped at the chance to move back.

That's when things took a bizarre twist - that I think only now I'm beginning to understand. I walked into my HR manager's office in Tyler and sat down. I said, "Fred" (because that was his name) "I think I'd rather go to Topeka then Midlothian." He kind of paused and looked at me and said - "really?" (because that's what people say when they think you're a bit off your rocker) "Yeah, I really do." Fred kind of looked puzzled and asked "Why?" And as clear as a crystal I said "It just feels like what I'm supposed to do."

It's funny, but it seems like my whole life I've been preparing for what is about to happen to me. I've been through the ringer emotionally as a child and young adult - but I've come through. Patience and perseverance has truly kept my feet grounded. When you least expect it - you hear your calling. You hear (not as in I'm having auditory hallucinations or anything -- but I can't think of another verb) what it was that your life was meant for. I'm very lucky that I heard. It's like I couldn't embark on what is about to happen without first going through what I did - because it has made me who I am - both the good and the bad.

So again -- why was I drawn to this place -- this ice cold frigid place (it's 3 degrees outside right now!)?? Simply put -- to finally heal. My mental state has never been stronger. I still have my mood swings (can't blame a girl for a bit of emotion), but all in all it's steady sailing. I rediscovered my faith. MCC Topeka (my church home!!! holler!!) has been a blessing I never knew I would want or need. I felt as if God called me home - even though as I look back I realized I never really left. I developed stronger relationships with my family (in TEXAS!). It's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I met my kindred spirit - my bff - who loves me in spite of all my flaws and crazy antics - someone who is there for me when I've need to be picked up, dusted off, and (sometimes) given a lollipop and told to go back out and play.

What's ahead on this path I walk? A new career awaits - that I know. Second semester of Pschology has gone very well -- waiting on one more test grade and that will determine whether I get a 3.5 or my first collegiate 4.0. My professors have already said they see a good therapist in me . . . There are many more adventures that await up the road, and time will reveal those to me.

So - the reflection is due to this being the day before I take the GRE. I am already planning on taking it again, so no concerns if it doesn't go super well this time around. I need to get a 1200 . . . that's about 80 pts higher than I've gotten on a practice one - but those are paper based and I'm doing a computer one, so the harder questions are weighted more if you get them right but less if you don't -- so 1200 is possible.

In closing - I leave a thought and a poem. My thought is take time to listen when no one is speaking, when no one is singing, when no one is there. You might be surprised at what you hear Him say.

"Finding My Way"

The air was bitter cold that morning.

The sun was no where to be seen,

and as I shook the frost from my eyes,

I could see nothing. Just blackness -

A blackness that engulfed all.

Try as I could to find my way,

the obstacles were to great.

And there I stood, motionless,

Unable to defend from the evil lurking

in the onyx veil surrounding me.

I lost my way.

I looked to the heavens and realized,

hope was not to be abandoned.

For the sky was turning just a hint of blue.

The faint light was the signal I was waiting for.

Looking to the heavens,

I was able to find a break in the thorns

in the bushes that ripped at my face,

tore my clothes, and ravaged me.

I followed the heavens, walking where I could see the stars.

I found a path that I knew would lead me,

to where I would not be lost.

As I looked down the snow covered path,

The first light of the sun kissed my face.

Warming my skin, thawing my soul.

The path in front, although not clear, was illuminated.

I needed to just take a step,

One step to help myself,

One more step to help others.

Two more steps to love myself,

Four more to love someone else.

Heading towards the light I realize,

I am finding my way . . .

A Lil' Card Game

I shuffled the cards in my hand. I hate it when they’re not organized. He’s trying to read my mind, I know he is. I continue to organize my hand, trying to figure out what the next strategic move should be.

“Are you gonna go?” he politely asks.

“I will, give me a minute. I’m trying to make a decision and figure out what I want to do.”

“Your making this more complicated than it needs to be.” He calmly states while playing with his white beard. He adjusts his robes and takes a sip from his cup. “You always make things more complicated than they need to be.”

I confess, “I know. I guess it’s a trait of mine.” I set my cards down and look at him straight in the eyes. “Why is that? Why do I always have to complicate things? Make things more than what they really are?”

“Why don’t you tell me.” He says while peering over the top of his glasses.

“Great!” I think. Here I was thinking I was invited up for a lovely game of cards, and it’s turning into a chance to analyze my behavior. I hate it when he does this. I shift in my chair. Although it quite comfortable, I suddenly am no longer able to relax and enjoy it. “I don’t know.” I shift my feet, look off to the left, and hope that he doesn’t continue to probe this suddenly uncomfortable situation. I really hate it when he explores my psyche . . . I just wanted to play a game!

“Yes, I think you do.” He states as a Father wanting his young child to admit why he did something.

“Because, well . . . I guess it’s because we always tend to make things more complicated than what they are. We were supposed to just love one another and follow the 10 commandments, and now there’s volumes and volumes of rules and restrictions. They were put in place by councils of men trying to exercise a form of control over another group. We always have a tendency to judge and the need to be right -- so much so that we’ll even kill for it. I don’t know why we do it, but we do. What this has to do with my card game I’ll never figure out.”

“Simple,” he smiles gently, takes another sip, smoothes out his robes, and adjusts his glasses. “You are trying so hard to make the right call, judge what my motivation is, that you are getting lost. You’re so tied up in trying to make the right decision, that you are not enjoying what you are doing. This game was meant to be enjoyed, to leisurely pass time. It’s not to guess what's right, what’s in my hand, and what will happen. Just play the game with joy, play the game with zest, and play the game with love. When hosting a game such as this, treat your guests well. And as a guest, be generous to your host. The rest will take care of itself.”

I pick up my cards and fan them out again. Suddenly, I’m much more rested. I take a drink and then wryly state “You’re not just talking about cards. Are you?” After a long but comfortable pause, I ask “Do you have a Queen?” I giggle.

God smiles. There’s a flash in his eye. And he says “Go fish.”