belonging spaces

Mental Health Monday – Belonging Spaces

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Before I talk about belonging spaces, I would like to briefly introduce my philosophy about depression. No matter how many therapy sessions you go to, no matter how many medications you take, depression is always there, just below the surface, trying to control you. You’re job is to control it. We all have different levels of depression, but I do believe that recovering from depression is a continuous recovery. It’s not the twelve steps of alcoholism, but I have a similar philosophy to that, in that I always need to be aware of the ebbs and flows of my mental health, and pay attention to when I need to bring extra coping mechanisms into play.

One of the things that I learned as I began my climb out of severe depression and into depression recovery was that I needed a belonging space. We have a decent sized house for our family, but none of the spaces were solely mine and in the depths of the worst of it, I spent a lot of time sitting in my car. It was quiet and I was alone, but it was also bleh.

I don’t drink coffee, but I do like Starbucks. I could nurse a cup of tea for about an hour and recoup some of my personality there.

During the worst of it, I also found that lists helped me get through the day, and I still  find myself revisiting them.

These are some of my tools that I will talk about later as I post about suicide prevention and prevention awareness.

One of my favorite belonging spaces is somewhere I used to visit during the worse times, but I still go there today for a smile.

Before I began on my depression medication, before I even new there was a problem with my mental health, I was on medication for high blood pressure, so I needed to pick up my meds at my pharmacy every month. When we moved to our house several years ago, I did not want to switch from our small town family run pharmacy to a big box drugstore chain, so I travel about thirty minutes to get there, once a month.

Each month, without fail, I’d travel the thirty minutes, and take a quick tour of the town, our old apartment, downtown to the street that has the post office and city hall, but inevitably, each time, I would find myself at the local natural attraction, the Falls.

I have never liked water, especially big bodies of water, but I have always enjoyed waterfalls, no matter what their size. For some reason, I find them soothing.

Over the years, the surrounding viewing areas of these falls have been built up, and they’ve added two new parks with historical kiosks and benches, and all sorts of floral and fauna. It’s just beautiful.
Instead of spending fifteen minutes sitting in my car in silence, I would get out and walk around the smallest park, sit on a bench, and listen to the water rushing over the side and splashing at the bottom, into the river. I’d close my eyes, and not think about anything. There was usually a cool breeze, and I’d let it blow over me, through my hair and across my closed eyelids. I’d breathe in whatever smells were there. It’s a city park, but it has such appeal. In front of me were the powerful falls, and behind me were the apartments, the former housing units of the nearby mills from the 19th century when these Falls were just as popular then as Niagara Falls is today.

I’d stand as close as I could, which was not very close, and I’d take a picture to post on my Facebook. Sometimes, I’d record the sound of the falls on my phone to listen to later.

This is my belonging space. It is sacred to me, and no matter what else was going on in my life or in my head, this place had, and continues to have a way of calming me, and letting me re-energize myself to go home and continue on until the next month; or at least until the next therapy session.

Before my corner office, before my visits to church, before my writing group, this was my space that held my hand, and squeezed my shoulders.

Try and think of your own belonging spaces that you can use to regroup and move forward. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or elaborate. I’ve used the corner of the food court at the mall. Give it a thought and be well, and please remember, you are never alone.

As Holy Week Ends

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It’s full of run on sentences but that just adds to the breathlessness of writing about Wales. I’m really happy with what I did in my travel writer’s class in the twenty minute exercise. Like, really happy with it. Homework is to continue the piece, which I’m very excited about.

Excellent Walking Dead finale! Can’t stop thinking about it. I’m writing great meta in my head, but it won’t transfer to the page. Still working on it. I also loved the April Fool’s from Stephen King about writing an episode. It’s funny how I don’t read his books, but I like everything else about the man.

Excellent Supernatural! Loved every bit of it. Cas jumping into the playground door to heaven was badass. Crowley standing up to Rowena. Rowena’s face when she didn’t kill Dean. Dean and Crowley having a drink together. The séance. Bobby. BOBBY!

The Flash (SPOILERS) had the best moment on so many levels with Mark Hamill playing The Trickster. He leans down close into the copycat’s face and in telling him why he chose him, had a longish pause, and then says slowly and pointedly (and what I guessed was coming), “I am your father.” It was the perfect homage without the shark jumping cliché. I find that’s the best thing about The Flash. It’s really the one thing we love to watch as a family. It has a great pace, full of humor and adventure. Great cast, great story, and as I am the non-comic book reader of the family you don’t need to read the comics to really enjoy this show.

The Easter Vigil is tomorrow night. All throughout this week’s services and masses, people keep coming up to me, asking how I feel, patting my shoulder, hugging me, reminding me that it’s my first anniversary. I’m both excited and non-plussed as I don’t feel that different today than I felt a year ago after the vigil. This church is only becoming more of a belonging space for me. I’m asked to hand out papers and cards after mass. The ongoing support is continuing and welcome.

My son is on his school trip overseas, to France. Several of his close friends are also on the trip. It’s hard to believe he’s already 18, and he’s graduating this spring/summer. He’s just a wonderful person in so many ways.

The other two are fighting like cats and dogs and today is only the first day of spring break!

Last fish on Friday til next year and then turkey dinner for Easter. What should I make for dessert?

We’ll be visiting my mother in law next week. Many of you know that she was hit by a car in 2013 and has been recovering ever since. She is back in the rehab because of a slight set-back, but she is strong and feeling better. This rehab center gives her confidence; they are a good caring place.

I was originally going to write a reflection here on how I was feeling this Holy Week, but when I began to write this (more or less) social media update, I realized that it really spells out how my Holy Week is going and how it’s making me feel. While I didn’t do as much introspection and meditation as I would have liked this Lent, I think that was my own fault for committing myself to a daily reflection. Instead of being a spiritual release, on some days (not many), it became a burden, which was totally not my intention. I’ve never been a questioner about my conversion, but this Lent felt much more comfortable for me with a better direction and reasons for doing things. I found it easier to talk to my kids about Jesus and being Catholic, which was not something that I found stress-free in the past. This morning when I said that I wanted to bring them to the Good Friday service, they didn’t want to go, but when I explained that it was the day that Jesus died and I really wanted to attend, they understood the importance of that, and agreed to go with very little disagreement. They were also very well behaved and my son in particular joined in the group readings and sang along with the hymns. Not exactly something he does, so it made my heart warm. My daughter took out her Kindle and began drawing pictures of churches, steeples and crosses. That was her way of showing her respect and I thought it was right for her. (When I saw her Bike Race app however, I told her to put it away.)

The Supernatural family is still my family and The Walking Dead has sparked my creativity as has this new workshop for travel writing.  Currently, the television is off, although the kids are on tablets, but the house is quiet, which is always a good thing. I did one weekend retreat in February, one day retreat in March, and in May I have plans to do an overnight at the same retreat house. They are very welcoming and accommodating with my money situation. I am also hoping to go again to Spring Enrichment with the Diocese.

I know it seems as though my little world revolves around my church, but the church seems to have brought all of the me’s together to form the birth (or re-birth) of an authentic me, a genuine me, a me who I should be. Add into that my writing, my travel, my faith, history and advocacy, justice and beauty, motherhood and mothering, family and camaraderie. All of my belonging spaces coming together to create my loft house in the woods where I am the only one who can see how the paths converge and spread like the threads of a spider web, catching all of the ideas, all of the wants, all of the being that I long for.

I wasn’t looking for a new religion when I went into my church initially. I wanted quiet; and comfort. Receiving both of those I looked for nothing else. My skepticism held fast, but when Jesus came to me in a bright light, no words were needed; indeed the words are already there through the Gospels. He needed no words to lead me to His salvation, or mine I suppose; the light was enough to open my eyes.

For me, the first half of this is no different from the second half. What I do in my daily life, whether important or insouciant, it is all with the basis of faith; with the foundation of belief; with the heart of Jesus.