Addiction

Someone in my life, someone I love very much and loves me very much, struggles constantly with addiction. It's ironic this all began to alleviate pain in their body, while what they are doing is causing so much more harm.

I don't understand addiction. I don't have an addictive personality but I've chosen to avoid drugs, partially due to the fear of the consequence; the side effects, the addiction. It's similar to staying away from a hot stove because you know you'll get burned and it hurts. Addicts touch the hot stove so much that their bodies become immune to the pain and only feel the sick pleasure. However, I don't need to understand it to accept that it is a real disease.

Addicts suffer. They struggle to fight withdrawals because they lack the necessary willpower. They struggle to mask their addiction from their loved ones. They struggle to maintain a "normal" lifestyle while everything slowly slips through their fingers. And sometimes their struggle just isn't enough.

Russell Brand, in response to Amy Winehouse's unfortunate death (while we found out later her passing was not necessarily drug related), took the words right out of my mouth when he wrote, 

"When you love someone who suffers from the disease of addiction you await the phone call. There will be a phone call. The sincere hope is that the call will be from the addict themselves, telling you they've had enough, that they're ready to stop, ready to try something new. Of course though, you fear the other call, the sad nocturnal chime from a friend or relative telling you it's too late...Frustratingly it's not a call you can ever make it must be received. It is impossible to intervene."

The phone calls stopped. I used to get calls to ask how I was doing, to ask about how work was going, to invite me out for a drink. But I don't get those anymore. And frankly, I don't give a damn if I ever receive a casual phone call ever again...as long as I eventually get the phone call telling me they've had enough.

"Life is very interesting... in the end, some of your greatest pains, become your greatest strengths."
Drew Barrymore discussing addiction. 

Pay It Forward

Last week, I was sitting in class just dying of thirst. I wanted needed something to drink...and badly. I felt like I was in a desert. Actually, this is a pretty good depiction of what I looked and felt like...

...except I'm a female, have longer hair (but not by much) and I shaved my face this morning. ;)

Okay, I'm embellishing it a little bit, much like I do my scrapbooks.

So I reached in my purse and found a $10 bill. I turned to the man sitting beside me and asked if he could break a 10 for the vending machine. Without thinking, he dug through his pocket, pulled out a $1 bill, and handed it to me. He smiled and said "Here you go." Throughout the entire semester, I've only said a hand full of words to this guy and was pleasantly surprised at his willingness loan me money, even if it was only a buck.

The following week, I walked in class and sat a dollar on the guy's desk. Confused, he was what it was for. I reminded him about loaning me money the week prior for a water. "I don't want your money!" he joked. "So you're just going to give me a dollar?!" I shrieked. "Yep," he responded, and turned around to continue to paint.

Two opposite extremes struck me at that moment:

1. Isn't that how society should be? Giving? Sharing? However, when I thought about it, it seemed very out of the ordinary that a near-stranger would be so quick to offer me something without wanting anything in return. I know it was only a dollar, but its the principle behind it. Too many people have become so selfish that they are shocked when someone does a nice gesture for them. And that pains me! I think these jerks need a slap in the face (and I won't complain if they don't return the favor and slap you back)!
2. I actually felt guilty for him doing something for me and me not doing anything in return. I've always been a selfless person and make sure I give back when someone does something for me. It is very difficult for me to just accept a gift or gesture "just because". I guess I'll just pay it forward. Has anyone ever seen that movie with Kevin Spacey, Helen Hunt, and Haley Joel Osmont? It's one of my favorites! It has such a good message.

Happiness is contagious. Smile at someone who needs it. And gestures go a long way. Do something nice for someone when they least expect it.

Here are a few pictures that will hopefully make you laugh:

When you smile, the world smiles back.

Bring On the Rain

I'm feeling very reluctant while writing this blog because these are very personal thoughts and feelings, which make me feel incredibly vulnerable to share them. However, I feel it's important because I want my readers to know every dimension of which I am, and maybe someone can learn something about themselves, as well.

I was diagnosed with depression when I was 17 years old and have battled it ever since. And "battled" is the perfect term because, while I end up winning every fight, it's a lifelong war. There have been a few periods of low where I secluded myself from the world, refused to get out of bed and simply slept 14 hours a day. Still, I felt blessed. Blessed because I never hit rock bottom. Blessed because, while there were days I asked Him to take my life while I slept, I never contemplated suicide. Although I knew there was something terrible going on inside my body that was nearly out of my control, I was so thankful to experience life.

Because I've dealt with it for so long, I've become a professional at noticing the early warning signs and am incredibly proactive. I eat healthy, I exercise, I surround myself with positive people who love me, I attend church, etc.

But I woke up this morning feeling a little sad. It was cold and rainy outside, and I was blue and gloomy on the inside. Although I am fully aware it only makes me more depressed, I laid around all morning. And when I said "all", I meant I woke up and then was glued to the couch from 7:30am-12:00pm.

Finally, at 12:01pm, I decided to defend myself. I got up, did the dishes, cleaned the house, and scrapbooked. The repetitive motion of doing the dishes relaxed me, cleaning the house made me feel accomplished and getting a few pages done from an album brought me joy. Suddenly, any traces of depressed feelings were gone. Gone like a freight-train, gone like yesterday…Gone like a soldier in the civil war, bang bang (Montgomery Gentry’s Gone). I don’t know why I felt compelled to break out into song. Anyway…

Forcing myself to be happy actually works! It is similar to working up the motivation to go to the gym. The devil on your shoulder is screaming, "Stay on the couch and watch TV, fatty!" while the angel is whispering, "There are so many benefits to being active! You'll be happy you did it!" If you stay home, you feel a little worse but not enough to really affect you...BUT if you do cardio, pump some iron and sweat a little, you're so grateful you did! You feel accomplished, you have more energy, and are ready for beach season!

A 2009 study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention showed that 1 in 20 Americans over the age of 12 had depression. I have 506 Facebook friends, which means about 25 of them also suffer from this disease. That’s an alarming number! So if you're a statistic, tell the devil to go to Hell and enjoy the remarkable life you were given!

Get A Life

During lunch with my colleagues the other day, we were updating each other on what is going on in the world of sitcoms and reality shows, which begun a conversation about how much TV we watch on a weekly basis and then that kind of mutated into us comparing cable and satellite TV packages. When they discovered I have the most basic cable package (and its even only that "advanced" because that was the minimum I could have for it to be bundled with wireless internet) and watch a maximum of 3 hours of TV each week, they were baffled. And 2 of those hours were dedicated to The Bachelor and the other hour is for Grey's Anatomy. Other than that, the TV is off unless my roomie, Erin, is watching something.

When I'm bored, want to do something "mindless", or need a stress reliever, I don't get the urge to channel surf. Instead, I find something that is much better for the mind, body, and soul. I take Johnny Cash for a walk. I pick up a book. I simply lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling, allowing my thoughts and imagination to encompass me. I get up and do housework - the repetitive motion of cleaning is surprisingly calming, and it provides a sense of accomplishment.  All of those things are so much more therapeutic to me than the boob tube.

Every wonder where the phrase "boob tube" came from? A television set used to consist of tubes, and was used as entertainment for idiots...or "boobs". Now there ya have it! You learned something new today. You're welcome.

I changed the way I relaxed when I met Chris Johnson. He was the keynote speaker at a conference I attended titled On Target Living and his motivation to change one's lifestyle was incredibly inspiring! He emphasized the importance of healthy living, improved health and quality of life, which made me excited to reevaluate my life. So here I am; trying to encourage you to make the same positive changes in your life. Do some yoga (if you're a manly man and too proud, just call it stretching). Go for a walk. Take a hike. And get a life!



Beautiful Disaster

Each Valentine's Day since 2007 has been a rollercoaster of emotions. The couple days leading up to February 14 reminds me of the nervousness of getting in the cart, buckling up, and then hearing the clicking noise of the track as I'm on my way up the hill, anticipating the huge drop. I feel my stomach do a few flips. And then it's over. Wham. Bam. Thank you, ma'am! Here's the story as to why:

My great-grandparents, Emma "Ma" and Oscar "Pa Paw" Hensley, married in 1935 and raised six kids together in the hills of Breathitt County Kentucky. To make ends meet, Pa Paw worked as a woodworker who specialized in chairs. It's rumored in our family that he made the famous JFK rocking chair and sold it to one of JFK's "people" while at a craft show.

Digressing...while they didn't have a perfect marriage (who does?!) they had the type of marriage I yearn to have one day; one in which you stay together against all odds. Pa Paw was a very strong and stubborn man and Ma was a a typical sweet, Southern belle. They balanced each other out and worked well as a team.
Note: It's also rumored in our family that he passed down the stubborn gene to my Grandma Cora to my dad to me, but again, that's just a rumor and can't be proven.

I was hanging out at a friend's house on a chilly Spring night in 1997 when I received a phone call from my dad asking what time I was going to be home. When I asked what time he wanted me home, he answered, "Now!" Something was wrong. I got home and found my dad sitting on the couch with the look of disbelief, and my sister and mom next to him in tears. Pa Paw passed away.

Pa Paw was a very quiet, but strong natured man. I have pictures of him holding me when I was a toddler and we were both smiling, but a sincere smile; not one that was posed for the camera. But the memories I have of him that weren't taken from old photographs were of his stance and body language because I only recall ever hearing him say a hand full of words. 

Nearly 10 years later. Valentine's Day of 2007. I was sitting at work and thinking of my "hot" date I had planned that night. My roommate, Charlene, and I were going to make dinner and watch a movie. I received a phone call from my sister and knew immediately something bad happened when she could barely choke out, "Cathleen?" My heart sank. "Ma died." Although she was 91 years old and lived a full and happy life, my heart broke. 

Ma was the most amazing woman I have ever known. She was optimistic, she was kind, she was realistic, she was independent, she was beautiful, she was hardworking, she was accepting, she was loving and she was witty. Ahhhh...that's where I get my sense of humor from! Just a few years before she passed away, my cousin Rickie invited a foreign exchange student to have Thanksgiving dinner with us. Although Ma needed assistance with the simplest tasks, she did not just want to make our guest feel comfortable, but she was adamant about making his plate for him and passed him a different dish as often as she could and refused to let him leave the table until he could not eat one more bite. 

Sitting at dinner with Char, there was an awkward silence between us. I was in mourning and she was hurting after a guy she was dating broke up with her...on VALENTINE'S DAY! Jerk. Wrapped up in my own thoughts, I realized something fantastic and a smile came across my face. Ma didn't want to be away from her Valentines for another year. Yes, I said "Valentines" (plural) because she had two lovers. She had a long running affair with God. She was tired of being lonely and wanted to be with them.

I imagined her reading her Bible, straightening her bun, putting on her angel wings, and cooking a delicious Valentine's Day dinner for her two loves consisting of fried chicken, green beans, corn bread, soup beans, corn, and Watergate cake. I imagined her serving their dinner and making sure they finished eating before she sat down to enjoy her own Southern cooking. That's what I picture her doing each Valentine's Day.

Every February 14, I feel the high of the loving ambiance in the air and I feel the low of not having such an influential couple in my life anymore and I feel the rush of them being with their soul mate and I feel the twist of the joyful memories I have of them. I have named this rollercoaster I ride, Beautiful Disaster. That's exactly what it is, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Ma and Pa Paw: Thank you for molding me into the person I am today. Thank you for your unconditional love, for my wonderful Kentucky vacation memories, for always having food on the table, for your strong work ethic, for sitting on a homemade rocking chair on the front porch and reminiscing for hours, for your belief that a woman should take care of her man, for teaching me life's joys are all about the little things, for sharing your faith, and for being YOU! These tears are tears of joy. Thank you. Love you. Miss you!

“One person can make a difference and every person should try.” - JFK
Happy Valentine's Day!

Disclaimer: Some details in the story may not be completely accurate, but this story isn't about the details; it's about the message.

Slice of Heaven in 2011

I've always been intrigued by blogging. I find it fascinating that people use an online portal as a diary of sorts. I had a taste of blogging by posting a couple brief "notes" on Facebook but it was a small taste. Like ordering a banana split at Dairy Queen and only allowing your taste buds the satisfaction of a bite of the strawberry side. It's simply not acceptable. I wanted more. So here I am, completing my New Year's resolution of starting a blog.

2011 is the year of gaining control of my life. While I've never really lost control, per se, I’ve been telling myself for years I’m going to earn my bachelors degree for example. And as I type this, I keep glancing at my Human Resource Management book contemplating doing some studying...or eating a banana split (that’s what I get for mentioning food!). Anyway, I’ve previously allowed other goals, like buying a house last year, to set me back. This year, I’m buckling down and am trying my damnedest to finish school by December! Yay! So now I'm doing things for me. Things that make me feel accomplished. Things that make me happy. And blogging seems to be a small slice of heaven.

Starting a blog is truly the first resolution I've actually stuck to in my 25 years, 2 months, and 20 days here on earth. Keep in mind that at 12:01am on January 1 that I did not promise myself I would actually keep up with this thing. Now if all of society was as smart as I and made half-ass resolutions, many more people would feel good about accomplishing their goals and the world would be a better place.

Disclaimer: Editor is not fat or as lazy as this blog makes her appear.