Where is the beginning? The beginning of me, as I am now, would probably start junior year of college at University of Arizona on December 16, 2006. My father, for lack of better words, broke up with me via e-mail. I was alone the entire day: with my thoughts, my sadness, my fear--I had no solutions or coping mechanisms. I was 20 and oblivious to how much sadness you could withstand. If you've ever been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you, you will know that in the end there comes a sort of silence. You breathe in and come to terms with your sadness--you strike a deal. My negotiation was that I would never be helpless or unprepared again like I was that day. Not to say that this "precautionary" emotional guard is only for relationships--it's for all possible upsets.
I've spent years wishing it was different, he was different, and that I was someone he wanted. I mistakenly used to think his approval defined my value. I could not fathom what was so awful about me that I was not worth loving. Although time may heal wounds, it does not make them invisible..the deep wounds, the ones that hurt the most, leave scars. In spite of wishing it was different, these scars on my heart are real--you cannot put something broken back together without the damage showing a little. The scars, however ugly or large, become a part of you. They compose the geography of your bones, the openness of your smile, and the thickness of your newly reinforced emotional wall.
You can only hope that someday, someone will see you--all of you--and think you're beautiful, not in spite of your scars, but because of them.
Flash forward to August 22nd, 2010. I was in the midst of teaching English at Chaparral, finishing my final semester of Graduate school..and working at Boys and Girls Club. Five hour energy was the only thing that made three hours of sleep feasible. After a series of unfortunate events (namely, my bathroom ceiling caving in) I was staying at a friend's apartment in Tempe.
It was just like any other Sunday. We decided to run a few errands in the evening; as we went down the stairs, I kept repeating that I wanted to stay together. I had a feeling. This feeling led me to linger at the gas station, sitting in my car, watching the cars fly by in front of me on the road. I got on the phone and put all my belongings away. I walked up the stairs and my chest started pounding--everything felt wrong. He was waiting at the top of the stairs, I ignored the alarm going off in my chest, not wanting to be paranoid.
He began screaming at me and trying to rush into the apartment.
I finally made it in the door and locked him out behind me--I tried to rationalize that someone had just tried to attack me in the light of day. Then the pounding started. I called 911 and wedged my body up against the door screaming at him to go away--I was safe, the door was locked and dead bolted. When the door started cracking, I told 911 I needed both hands to keep him out and dropped the phone. The horror of his body coming through the wall and the door, the strength of his rage and the red in his eyes are things that I have tried to block out. The feeling of utter defeat when no one in neighboring apartments came to help me. My thoughts spooled like a tape, "This isn't real. This isn't real. This is a nightmare. This doesn't happen in real life," to "He's going to kill me. I don't want to die." It was that statement that gave me the surge of strength to escape.
This event stays with me, images that replay instantly when my eyes close. It is humbling to be in a public place when something or someone triggers a flashback and I begin to shake, my heart thumping in my ears. I can't control it.
The event, was the only time I felt like a hero and a coward in the same situation. I was asked to testify in court and my fear led me to hide behind a facade of words. An attempt to recount the damage that had been done. He is more than a criminal, a felony charge, a case of aggravated assault. What happened to me is more than just a case number. He changed my life forever--gave me an experience that makes running at night laughable, leaving a door unlocked unthinkable, and walking in parking lots unbearable. The person assigned to my case said, "Your impact statement should really emphasize how this experience has changed you." My computer screen sat blank for days. I thought of the kids at work who so desperately wanted a hug that I couldn't seem to give them yet.
The humbling part of these "in between" moments is that they can leave you all banged up with no bandages. You haven't been in the muck long enough to make sense of it, so all you can do is keep breathing and moving. Sometimes, in the in between you lose your sense of self. You lose confidence that everything is going to be okay--the light is somewhere, we just can't see it. We become a stranger, an intruder, an unknown entity in our own body.
I did everything I could to dive back into my "life." I went back to work and teaching the next day. I counted to 10 and repeated:
Block it out. Seal it shut. Lock the lid.
Forget it. Forget. Him.
It. Never. Happened.
Lost in the middle, I failed to make a place in my life for this aberration. I did not want this scar. I did not want the event to become a permanent part of me. There it sat, a large addition to my running list of emotional baggage. Smited. I envisioned what it would be like to go on a first date with someone,
"Hi, I'm Courtney. If I seem a little off sometimes it's because I have post traumatic stress and no time to deal with my feelings because I'm determined to finish grad school with a 4.0 while working 60 hours a week."
Quite a catch. At this point, not even the likes of Millionaire Matchmaker or E-Harmony could help me. I was land locked in limbo.
I knew things were bad when I stopped eating lunch to have more time to work. Rushing to school in the morning, I had an epiphany on the phone with Jamie, "But..If I didn't have to eat, I'd have so much more time!" -- Leftovers turned into sandwiches which digressed into yogurt and then eventually whittled away to a protein shake. I knew things had to change when I became the "dealer" of 5-hour energy. I was like a power-walking advertisement for the stuff, completed by a subtle eye twitch from an inexcusable caffeine addiction. I kept boxes in my desk--coaches and teachers sought me out in the early morning hours when the halls were quiet. I was "that guy."
My mental intervention wasn't lifetime worthy--but it happened on October 25th in the form of a simple website that had a 10 step cure that brought me back from the trenches:
1. Assess just how busy you’re willing to be.
New research indicates that a key indicator of happiness is the distance between the hours you’d like to work and the hours you actually do. If you don’t want to work more than 40 hours per week because you have a hobby you’re passionate about, but you’re working over three hours more than that, you will inevitably feel dissatisfied.
2. Consider whether your schedule conflicts with your priorities.
When you have internal or external conflict, it’s difficult to maintain your center and sense of joy. If fitness is a priority but you’re working 60 hours a week, leaving you little time to exercise, you will feel conflicted. Even if you want to keep working hard, you’ll feel frustrated that you’re not meeting your own needs.
3. Be sure your goals align with your values.
Most people would prefer not to overwhelm their lives with work, but oftentimes we push ourselves because we have our eye on the prize, so to speak. There’s nothing wrong with having a dream and working toward it; but if you’re going to sacrifice much of your now for later, be sure you’re really headed where you want to go.
4. Find joy in the way things are.
Oftentimes when we’re busy, we’re fixated on the way things can be, should be, or will be on the other side of overexertion. It’s all too easy to get caught up in a race toward some fantasy tomorrow that inevitably will fall short of your expectations. Someday dreams usually do because they’re more about avoiding the present than building the future.
5. Make time for relationships.
Studies have shown that the quality of our relationships correlates directly with our overall sense of happiness. Sometimes while we’re working toward a larger life we forget to do the things that remind us we’re part of something larger than ourselves. We need meaningful contact with other people to feel fully alive. We need interaction, engagement, and the time to just be in the presence of other.
Make time for people, even if it’s just a quick meal. It’s worth sacrificing your working lunch to experience life outside your office.
6. Allow yourself completely disconnected time.
We all need complete breaks from work where we can be fully present in something else. Whether it’s an afternoon at the movies, a yoga class, or a complete day and night of relaxation, compartmentalizing life for a while can be rejuvenating.
7. Say no liberally.
Saying no is hard when you want to please people. You might assume only spineless, needy people struggle with this, but the truth is we all do. None of us want to disappoint people, and on some level we all want approval.
Just like on airplane you need to put your own mask on before helping someone else, we need to take care of our needs before we can even begin to be valuable for other people. We need time to decompress, do what we love, and just plain call the shots, without reacting to other people’s needs.
8. Prioritize rest.
In a perfect world, we’d all sleep eight hours a night. We’re best equipped to handle life’s challenges when we’re not fatigued. But sometimes that’s not an option. When you are exhausted, take care of yourself using these tips to function better when you’re tired.
To the best of your ability, take time to nap, meditate, or practice deep breathing. A past yoga instructor once told me a certain pose was the equivalent of a good night’s sleep. I don’t know if I believe that entirely, but I do know certain yoga poses help me shut off my mind to fall asleep sooner at night.
9. Expel less mental energy.
This is a good practice in life in general—one I need to constantly work at—but it’s especially helpful when you’re busy. If your circumstances seem a little overwhelming, your inner state may start to parallel that. You may over-analyze, worry about every little decision, stress over whether you’re doing the right things.
Trust your gut. Learn and adjust as you go, but give yourself a break from the constant overanalyzing—whether the meeting went well enough, or your report was detailed enough, or if you sales calls are compelling enough. Don’t make yourself do the work twice—once in the doing and again in the rehashing.
10. Embrace the chaos.
Nobody forces us to live busy lives. We do it because we want to feel a sense of purpose, commitment, and accomplishment. You may have to maintain a full schedule out of obligation—kids to feed or loans to pay off—but there are a lot of things we could sacrifice if we truly wanted a simpler life.
If you’ve chosen to do various different things, engage with many people, and strive toward numerous goals, realize a lot will feel out of control at times. The more elements you introduce to your life, the more unpredictable the days will be. Sometimes the uncertainty is both the most exciting and terrifying part. Choose to focus on the former. Why fight the game you’ve chosen to play?
After everything, the universe tried to make amends with me--I did graduate with that 4.0 and I also landed my ideal job. My mantra changed from denial to positivity, my mother told me the night of the attack, "You can either choose to be a victim or choose to move on." I moved on.
Transition to February 9th. After a week of strange conversations with my grandmother, I got a call that she had suffered a massive stroke. The next day I learned that the strongest woman I had ever met would not recover this time. My heart sank to the floor and I think it might still be there somewhere in the lobby of my work. One of those moments where you nod your head but no words come out of your mouth. Reality started to hit me and I found myself scrambling not to fall apart. If I went home, I would fall apart. If I was alone, I'd fall apart.
My grandmother has been the most important person in my life. She's the voice on the other end of the line that reminds me what life is really about, she's my compass and without her I already feel so lost.
She passed away on Valentine's Day. It's always been my favorite holiday, for no real reason other than I think there is something wonderful about finding a small way to say I love you to the people you care about. I haven't let myself cry yet...partially because my gut tells me this is not the time for tears. This is the time to celebrate the life of a woman who painted the town red, lit up every space with her smile, and made each person she spoke to feel as if they were the most important person in the room. Her name was Estelle but she went by a nickname, Polly. Oddly, for someone who didn't even like her own name she was insistent that my name would be Estelle ( I kind of wish it was..). She drank whiskey, wore red lip stick, and had an unforgettable laugh (followed by a snort and, 'I love it! I love it!'). She drove like a bat out of hell, once she crashed into a jewelry store.
Maybe that is a good place to start when I tell you about my grandmother. She had a yellow convertible. Bright yellow. When I was a kid, I would sit in the black leather and pretend I was driving fast along the coast--just like my grandmother in a fashionable hat and scarf. I loved being her passenger. She drove into a jewelry store in her little town by the river and managed to have new friends by the end of the collision and a brand new ring. My own mother shook her head and whispered, "that's grandma for you." She was larger than life. She's been my world for the past 24 years.
Driving with my grandmother was always an experience. Every one in my family has the turkish evil eye in their car; I was always mortified as my grandma would flash the "evil eye" to people who cut her off. Oddly enough, I too have one in my car now and smile every time I see it (I have yet to flash it..but maybe in her honor I'll start). She used to pick us up from the airport and I would itch in excitement, thinking about all the adventures we were about to have. As a pint sized person, I spent my days writing stories, picking blackberries, sizzling snails with salt, making bouquets of flowers, stomping on apples in the orchard, digging for gold in the creek, climbing trees and playing dress up in the world's most fantastic closet. My grandmother has wonderful stories of her travels. She has been all over the world--she even went to the Amazon. Her home was filled with special pieces from all over the world--she really did this life thing right.
She never lived in the in between, she lived only in the now.
She never lived in the in between, she lived only in the now.
She once told me (over a glass of bourbon when discussing law school and life), that if I was able--I should get married atleast twice. She said that each marriage is like a life. Experience as many different types of life as you can ( my mother still refutes her saying this..but it's delightfully true). Equally entertaining was another late night when I inquired about her cheetah print bed sheets, she replied with her infamous smirk and a laugh, "Well, at my age you need some excitement in the bedroom." When she was in Egypt, she rode a camel in a pencil skirt and heels. She is fabulous.
My grandmother always told me two things:
1. Everyday is a good day depending on the way you look at it
and
2. "Watch out for the other guy" when discussing driving...and life.People have told me to distract myself, to keep busy. I've tried. Tonight was the first night since the 9th that I've been all alone. What I've come to realize is that grief is isolating and lonely. It doesn't go away; it's yours, step for step, breath for breath. Grief is forever--I will never stop grieving because I will never stop loving the people I've lost. Grief and love are seemingly conjoined, they are not mutually exclusive. Like our scars, our grief stays with us..but here's hoping it can be beautiful too.
I wish my story could be wrapped up in a neat bow--with an overarching theme, witticism and life lesson, but the truth is, as I get older--I realize I don't have much of anything figured out. Both unfortunately and fortunately...the answers are not in the back of the book of life. Here's hoping for cliff notes.
