Caring, emo, sharing

Sharing Is Caring . . . To a Point

Honesty is important to me but I realize now that some topics don’t need to be breached.

In trying to communicate and exhibit integrity, I crossed the line into a territory where I’ve shared too much.

I need to NOT avoid or repress feelings. They should to be reflected on and processed.

However, my emotions can change, moment to moment, so I don’t need to cater to EVERY thought.

There’s an art to being tactful when hashing out one’s sensibilities.

 

First of all, the feelings and thoughts we have are important, but they’re not concrete truths. They are merely our own perceptions, opinions, and points-of-view; no one else’s.

At the same time, the feelings and thoughts we have are NOT unique. What differentiates me, from you, or the next human, is response; action.

We all have choices regarding how we react to feelings, thoughts, circumstances, etc.

Attempting to repress emotions is a chosen act so we may as well take the time to acknowledge how we feel and why we feel that particular way. Allowing this process will likely lead us to the most appropriate action.

When we bottle our emotions up, we run the risk of losing control.

When we lose control, we’re caught off guard, which makes us more likely to act inappropriately.

Self-sustained sensations rooted in fear, such as paranoia, worry, obsession, etc., only lead to suffering of oneself.

Another fear-based sentiment is guilt.

There’s no need to feel guilty for feeling.

Feelings are not set in stone. Feelings do not dictate who we are at our core.

 

When a feeling or thought, first enters my noggin and it wants to stay, I (again) need to process it (not push it down). I will look at the “how I feel,” “why I feel that way,” and go from there.

 

Feeling #1: I’m worried about how I’ll do on a project for school.

I’m worried because I’m afraid of failing. If I fail, I’ll lose my funding, I’ll look “stupid,” etc.

Solution: I don’t need to indulge in worst-case scenarios because they’re hypothetical and if I do my best, I should have nothing to fear. If I allow my “worry” to take over, I’ll be wasting energy that I COULD be using toward a resolution, and even be, potentially, setting myself up for failure.

If I didn’t do my best, I need to take responsibility for that. No scapegoats!

To make “my best” happen, I will make sure I have all the information I need. If the professor prepares an outline, I’ll use that as a checklist. If I’m not sure about something, I’ll ask questions. Just because I may want some things spelled out for me, doesn’t mean I lack intelligence. I’m just being thorough in sorting semantics. When I assume, there may be a breakdown in communication. I’m not a mind-reader so if there is confusion on my part, I’m responsible for asking relevant questions to clear it up.

 

Feeling #2: Someone said something to me that, sort of, stung.

This comment hurt my feelings. Why did it hurt? Because I took it personally. Why did I take it personally? Maybe, there’s a ring of truth to it. Maybe, it triggered a painful memory.

Solution: This one’s tough. Maybe, confronting the culprit would only engage the person, thereby “rewarding” their negative behavior. Maybe, they “know not what they do.” Maybe, I did something adverse, and they’re reacting to it by lashing out. Maybe, it was meant as a joke that crossed a line.

How I choose to react, depends on any particular situation.

If I provoked said “attack,” I (again) need to take responsibility by addressing what is transpiring.

If it’s a conflict with someone I know, I should, probably, express how the comment made me feel; create a boundary. While, I’m not a mind-reader, neither is anybody else.

If it’s someone that I’ve never seen before and will never seen again, I could, by all accounts, refrain from delving into any further contention.

Sometimes, not taking action is the best action. Again, it’s all about how I CHOOSE to expend my energy.

 

An activity I perform routinely is to reword, what could be, subconscious or unintentional self-depreciating phrases.

 

Examples: Above I spun “asking questions makes me feel stupid” into “there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be thorough, which can be done by asking questions.”

“I am neurotic.” vs. “I am methodical.”

“I am weird.” vs. “I exhibit character.”

“I’m never satisfied.” vs. “I evolve.”

“I can never stay in one place for too long.” vs. “I am worldly and love to travel.”

Etc., etc., etc.

 

It takes just as much effort to indulge in negativity, as putting positive vibes out there.

If you aren’t a nihilist, why not choose positivity?

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Change, Confidence, Learning

Redefinition Revisited: #sorrynotsorry

Someone very close to me asked, in retort of a public apology, why I felt the need for said apology.

I said something about, not being able to give my all relationships, and that I felt it wasn’t fair to other people, which, in turn, made me “feel bad” (i.e. sorry and guilty).

She, then, asked, “Isn’t that for those ‘other people’ to decide?”

That got me thinking . . .

Recently, I realized, . . . she’s totally right. It’s presumptuous for me to assume potential friends, lovers, what have you, would NOT “be able to handle” change in me.

I typed, only a few months ago, “Getting to know me takes effort because I’m never satisfied and always evolving.” (https://mariahrosesramblings.wordpress.com/2015/10/26/an-apology/, An Apology . . . , October 26th, 2015.

It’s not that “I’m never satisfied.” It’s that I’ll always strive for MORE. I’ll  “always evolv[e]” because I’ll always be looking for ways to improve myself. It’s, by no means, not because I’m “not good enough,” but because I thrive with change and get excited at new prospects.

However, I’ve always feared change. I’m afraid of a lot of things.

My “apology” was selfish. I was trying to protect MYSELF. That’s what’s not fair.

I think it took me, actually, failing hard at something to realize that (in a word: school).

One day, I was having a conversation about “perfection.” I WAS a self-proclaimed perfectionist (still working on that but that’s another story).

Anyway, the person I was conversing with asked, “How many mistakes have you made?”

I replied, “Actually, not many.”

Then, he listed off the many, huge mistakes he’s made to get to where he is. Behind success, lurk past failures.

There’s no shame in making mistakes. It’s part of the learning process. “Shame” is, only, a FEELING bred from doubt of the self.

“Nobody’s perfect. Everyone has flaws.” (https://mariahrosesramblings.wordpress.com/2015/01/19/understanding-is-reached-only-after-confrontation/, Understanding Is Reached Only after Confrontation, January 19th, 2015.) They are part of what it means to be human.

Again, mistakes are an inevitable part of the process of adaptation.

Once I get over that initial sense of impending doom and that need for “perfection,” I am in love with that change. It becomes natural.

Therefore, I need not be afraid or filled with self-doubt.

People are drawn to me so one of the other things that I’ve thought about is, “What makes me a ‘good friend?’ What am I physically, emotionally, or spiritually able to do now to show people that I care?” (https://mariahrosesramblings.wordpress.com/2015/06/03/redefinition/, Redefinition, June 3rd, 2015.)

Punishing myself by making MYSELF feel guilty never proved to ANYONE how much “I care.” The only thing that does is make me unnecessarily feel like shit.

I don’t have to explain myself to anyone and nobody owes me an explanation either. And I don’t have to take what people do choose to share with me as gospel.

At the same time, I need to be honest with MYSELF about what I feel. Trust in others begins with trust within myself.

Now, I know that being a good listener, with integrity, honesty, loyalty, conviction, tact (most of the time), and respect, is GOOD ENOUGH.

I am trustworthy.

I can say what I mean, and mean what I say, but that doesn’t mean, who I’m saying it to, will truly understand, much less, believe it’s the truth. And it’s not that I’m not trustworthy. Again, I am trustworthy.

In fact, it has little to do with me. When you’ve been through the ringer, it’s hard to know who’s on the level. I’m just as skeptical as the next person. However, I know how to suss out red flags and warning signs pretty skillfully. I can become less skeptical, sooner.

My point is: these things take time. How much time, depends on the individual situation. Patience is key. Relationships don’t blossom overnight.

I am a good friend.

I need to stop comparing myself to others, including my-past-self. Each individual is different no matter how similar they seem. Comparison leads to madness. Live and let live, and do the best you can.

“The best you can, is good enough.” ~ Radiohead

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Aphasia, Coping, Effects

Aphasia: Another Acquired Speech Impediment

“The Greek word, aphatos, literally means “speechlessness.” [http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/aphasia] What’s that word? That word that means you can’t think of the word that you’re thinking of? . . . Oh. Aphasia.” (http://www.rochesterwomanmag.com/rwm/what-doesnt-kill-me-makes-me-stronger/, What Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me Stronger, June 2014.)

One of my new catch phrases, since I had my stroke, is “Damn Aphasia . . .” I use it when I, for the life of me, cannot think of a word I know that I, otherwise, use frequently.

Aphasia has, over time, become less of an issue than apraxia ever was. However, my brush with aphasia was no less than terrifying.

  1. What emotions come along with aphasia?

Fear, frustration, and taking pleasure in little victories.

2. How have you overcome these emotions?

When, I, first, had the stroke, I had trouble communicating at all. My uncle brought me a bell and my mom a white board, to the hospital. We made a game out of my one-armed charades. I’d ring the bell whenever someone guessed what I was trying to convey. I used the white board for anything I could try to work out; whether it be the first letter of a word or a picture of something that I forgot how to spell, etc. 

Again, “I’ve had to learn to be patient and use whatever resources I can to communicate.” (www.mariahrosesramblings.wordpress.com, Apraxia: Effects and Coping, March 14th, 2015.)

My phone has become my lifeline. Albert Einstein said, “I never commit to memory anything that can easily be looked up in a book.” (http://www.azquotes.com/quote/616898) Google and the thesaurus have become my, most-used, tools.

The thing about my experience with aphasia is, it’s become less worrisome over time. I’ve always prided myself in my grammar and vocabulary. Managing acquired aphasia means, “unlocking” what you already know is there. 

One of my speech therapists described it as such: think about your brain as a file cabinet. My stroke was like a hurricane that went through my brain. Some folders wound up in shambles on the floor, some remained in tact but needed to be gone through for memory refreshment purposes. Some things were just out of order. The information was still there but, with aphasia, I couldn’t tell which end was up and I couldn’t find the words.  

As time passed, I knew in my head, the gist of what I wanted to communicate, but I couldn’t comprehend how to get it out. I was trapped with my thoughts and I was so scared that it would be that way forever. My head can become a very dark place that I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy be confined to.

So, I worked my ass off, organizing and tidying up that file cabinet, finding comfort in every word I relearned, every grammar rule I recalled, putting everything back in it’s right place, little by little, till I restored enough to know I would be “okay” eventually.

Social Media has kept me, more or less, grounded and has given me an outlet and a chance to reach out, simultaneously. 

 

3. Were there any medications that helped?

No. “I take Keppra, an anti-convulsant, and in the first hour or so after I take it, it slows my motor functions down, noticeably.” (“Mariah Rose’s Ramblings,” Apraxia: Effects and Coping, March 14th, 2015.) It make me sluggish (more-so than I already am). 

4. How does this complication effect the people around you?

I count on people to be patient with me and, if I don’t want help and have the time, I, simply, signal for people to wait, and, most of the time, they do. 

When I get frustrated at not being able to think straight, I tend to snap. When I used to panic because of that trapped feeling, I’d fly off the handle to the point where I was scaring myself.

If I’m having more trouble communicating than usual, it’s become an indication that I need sustenance or sleep. Sometimes, this happens without warning so I have to decline invitations, more often than not, or sit down randomly or make pit-stops if I’m not prepared.

5. What would you personally want to change about your therapy? Were there any exercises or techniques that helped more than others?

Through speech therapy, I was able learn what tools worked for me and what things I could use outside of therapy to further my progress. I was always happy with my speech therapy because I never felt like I hit a plateau. There are always ways to improve. Some days are better than others. I cried a lot out of frustration and embarrassment but all my therapists helped me push on through. 

As I said, Google and the thesaurus are very useful for me. Reading “unlocks” with little effort. Listening to music and watching movies or TV shows that I knew like the back of my hand, pre-stroke, make me recall even more. 

Anything to test my memory seems like therapy; like going to the art gallery and reminiscing about my favorite artists and their lives and techniques, or getting nostalgic about my knick-knacks (Who gave it to me? Where did I, or they, get it? Why is it significant?)

Writing (as I have said, in previous blogs) helps build my vocabulary back up. I, often, repeat myself, which I think, is okay. It forces me to think of “new” ways to say similar things; break out that handy thesaurus. 

“Words with Friends” is great for getting those gears turning. There are many other games that help broaden abilities in similar ways, such “Taboo” or “Bananagrams.”   

“Words with Friends” and “Bananagrams” are both reminiscent of “Scrabble” (another excellent therapeutic game), while “Taboo” made me realize that, even in describing something in a roundabout way, I can till get my point across, as the object of the game is to make someone guess a word or person without using other key words. 

So, battling aphasia, for me, once I wasn’t afraid anymore, has gotten to be (Dare I say it?), somewhat, enjoyable. 

“When first had the stroke, I couldn’t read or speak. Any messages I responded to were courtesy of my mom.

“Texting came easier then talking (it still is) but I couldn’t find the words to say exactly what I wanted to say. I called it ‘inability to make abstract thought.’

“Now, I, suddenly, have diarrhea of the mouth, as it were, via text. I can only assume that my speech is to follow.

“Watch out, people! I’m on my way to becoming whole again!” (Facebook: Mariah Rose, March 15, 2014.)

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Art, Change, Learning

BREAK the Cypher

I spent my New Year’s Eve, going through my artwork from high school up through college; some after too. The idea was to refresh my memory as to what influenced me at different stages in life; what motivated and moved me. I wanted to ramble about art and not leave anything out. I still plan on doing that but I came across something I forgot about. Something along similar lines but not what I was looking for.

I forgot I used to use writing as an outlet. I remember, I took a creative writing class but I didn’t know I ever wrote anything relevant or that I attempted to share.

In my hoarding, I found three issues of “Galerie,” a yearly student-run publication, put out by my high school. I was on the staff for two years. I had, at least, one visual piece, as well as one piece of writing, in each issue I found.

I’d like to share a piece I passed off as “fiction” in my senior year. Bare with my eighteen-year-old self, as I’ve had 12 years to fine-tune my “voice,” grammar, vocabulary, etc.

“She looks into the mirror stares into the face of a person longing for change. She is a girl of eighteen with dark hair and blue eyes. She has a pale complexion and her lips are rosy pink. As she looks into her own eyes, she is distracted by the leaves outside the window, rustling as the wind whistles through them. They remind her of how restless she is. She has been a part of a twelve-year routine that she has wanted to end for so long. The end is so near but so far away. She covets a new beginning. She can’t wait to start over. She wants to cut ties with all those surrounding her. They are all so boring because they are all the same. She wants to be with people have goals. She wants to be with people who are like her. She’s different. She likes being different but she’s so lonely. She’ll be glad to go. She won’t cry when she does. She’ll smile. She will be sad to leave some people because even the important ones in her life right now might not feel that she is important enough to stay in touch with. She knows, however, that the people who care about her most will always be there.

“She hopes that some of those people will support her when she begins a new life for herself. She is so afraid of what the future has in store for her but she welcomes it with open arms. She will rise to any challenge that faces her and conquer it so that she may do what she wants to do and become what she wants to become. She’s not sure what she wants to do or become, but she’ll know when the time is right. What she does know is that she wants to succeed. She know that she is capable of accomplishing anything that her heart desires. She is intelligent and interested in so many things.

“Some people might not believe this, though. When she tries to speak about what she is feeling, she sounds stupid and ditzy (for lack of better words). She knows what she wants to say but struggles to get it out. Her cheeks become flushed and she stutters. When she finds the perfect words to say, she often forgets them before they escape her mouth. She fidgets and slumps. She has horrible posture. She’s not confident in herself and in order to counter her nervousness around people, she talks and talks. Actually, she babbles. She realizes she does it but she needs to feel less nervous somehow. The only way she can truly express herself, though, is on paper. The only way she can say what she wants to say without interruption is on paper. She wishes she had more time for her paper, whether it be lined or Strathmore. She wishes she had more time but she’s tired. When she thinks she can finally rest, there is something else to be done. She relishes the thought of a world where money is no object and time is on her side. If she could, she would spend all of her time utilizing that paper. She is sick of work and school and anything else that gets in the way of her and herself. She wants everything to be finished. She wants to be settled in a house with the perfect job. She wants to be in love. She wants to have time.

“In the middle of her thought she blinks and realizes that she has been staring into those blues eyes for quite some time now. She has been caught in her own gaze for what seemed like an eternity. She rubs her face with her hands and sighs. She looks her own face over a few timed and asks herself those age-old questions, “Who am I? What is going to become of me?” We’ll see.”

Again, I wrote that when I was a senior in high school. Sure, I want to pick it apart and edit it but the nature of the content would be similar. Instead, I’ll take this opportunity to man-up, because the character I was describing was, clearly, 110% ME. I was trying to express myself while attempting to be, somewhat, cryptic. Some of my favorite authors (namely Chuck Palahniuk and Tom Robbins) “taught” me to use my sense of humor and not be constrained to the “rules” in writing. I cling to them because I’ve found that, like my influences in art and music, I respond and relate the creative people who aren’t afraid to let their personalities shine through in their work.

I’m going to address each of my relevant fears and points, and turn this depressing, albeit optimistic, piece, into a lesson.

When I first wrote that passage, I was a naive, gullible virgin, who had never ventured outside of Rochester, NY with anyone except her immediate family. I’d never been in love and was completely lost and lonely.

I’ve been through a lot in my life. Some of it was my own doing. Other times, I didn’t know any better. Sometimes, it was just a matter of timing and/or placement. Whatever happened (or happens), I’ve always try to learn and grow from it; evolve.

I’m neurotic and methodical, which can be blessings or curses. I think EVERYTHING through. When I say, “I don’t care.” It’s not because I’m indecisive. It’s because I, genuinely, don’t care because the outcome won’t have that much bearing on the bigger picture.

Honestly, I’m not sure how much I want to share about my past but I will say, my stroke is the single-most difficult thing I’ve had to deal with in my entire life. However, I’m doing just fine a year later because of all I’ve experienced up to this point.

A cliche I use once in awhile is, “If I knew then what I know now . . .” Listen, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s kind of a joke to me. It’s one of those *wink wink, nudge nudge* types of things.

I tattooed over my knees, “No regrets. No worries.” I do worry a-lot-a-bit but I’m forever trying not to. Life is a lot of trail and error. Sometimes, you get second chances. Sometimes, it’s one and done. Sometimes, people hurt you. Sometimes, you hurt others. I’m sincerely sorry for the people I’ve hurt. But, at the same time, I don’t regret getting hurt because it’s made me who I am. You have to think about each situation individually because, even if you’re experiencing deja vu, no one is exactly the same. If you don’t think things through, when you can, you’ll never grow and the results will send you around that same vicious cycle.

That’s why I’m analyzing my priorities from 12 years ago; because I want to see how I’ve grown and see what’s no longer important and what I still need to work on.

Here it goes!

I’ve always been restless. I’ve realized that I’ll always be restless. I can’t sit still for too long. I love, love, love traveling. Just a change of scenery for even a day satiates my nomadic tendencies, if only for a little while. I’ve found, if I don’t change things up a little bit, every once in awhile, I get stir-crazy.

A friend shared a quote by Robert Holden. It states, “Beware of Destination Addiction . . . a preoccupation with the idea that happiness is in the next place, the next job and with the next partner. Until you give up the idea that happiness is somewhere else, it will never be where you are.” I understand where Holden is coming but part of the reason I’m forever restless, is because I’ll never be satisfied. Another friend and I were talking the struggle with being an artist. You’re your own worst critic and mortal enemy. For artist like us, nothing we create is ever “good enough.” If we created THE perfect piece, we’d implode and there wouldn’t be anything left for us to achieve; nothing to work toward. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Yes, I need to choose goals that are reachable but I’ll never stop trying to do better; to BE better. That mindset has gotten me through my recovery so far. I’m not striving for absolute happiness. I’m trying to be content, moment to moment. Like MOST HUMANS ON THIS PLANET, I have good days and bad days. You just need to seize the days you can. If you have a bad one, dust yourself off, and try again.

“You pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick friends’ nose.” Well, I “pick[ed] . . . friends” who would let me “pick [their] nose[s],” as it were. But, seriously, I have so much love surrounding me . . . I’m so grateful. It’s been hard to let people go who hurt me and there’s a lot of disappointment involved in that but the feeling passes, eventually, and the love and support of those ones who stick around, fill up those voids. I still get lonely from time to time but I think it’s another part of the human condition.

I’m not afraid of the future anymore. I still maintain, “[I] will rise to any challenge that faces [me] and conquer it . . . [I want] to succeed. [I] know that [I’m] capable of accomplishing anything that [my] heart desires. [I am] intelligent and interested in so many things.” And I, once again, have so much support that it doesn’t matter if I talk slow or stammer. People wait to hear what I have to say. Also, I’m just as forgetful as I ever was, if not more-so. I’m working on using my resources and tools to make things easier, memory-wise (See “Memory Lost, Memory Found, Repeat.” mariahrosesramblings.wordpress.com).

I still get nervous but I’m working on that too but my “babbling” and “fidgeting” has become part of my awkward charm. People who don’t appreciate it . . . well, ya know.

I’m still working on time-management. I’ll probably never get it right but I’ll always keep trying.

I’ve changed my mind about “settling in a house.” I don’t EVER want to be tied down. There’s no such thing as the perfect job, although tattooing comes wicked close, for me.

As far as love goes, there are no rules and it’s painful. With romantic love, comes stress, sex, insecurity, tests of trust, etc. I’ll probably never figure out that whole mess but what I do know is that I can’t worry about that right now anyway. I have too much on my plate. I feel that in order to truly be with someone, you BOTH have to be content with yourselves.

With that, I suggest making a list of what makes you content and if you’re not one thing . . . start.

My List:

My own space

Travel

Working out

Doing research

Reading

Writing

Yoga

Decompression time

Being creative

Feeling healthy

Being around people I love, who love me back

Mariah Rose’s Ramblings: youarenotalone138@gmail.com

E-mail me if you want to comment on my “ramblings” but aren’t comfortable doing it publicly. I’d ask you not to abuse this gesture. I WILL NOT respond to inappropriate inquiries and I WILL NOT give out my phone number.

This e-mail address is meant to help people, survivors and caregivers, alike.

I’m not a medical provider. I’m not a therapist of any kind. I’m just a survivor whose willing to share.

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