commonmaggie – Common Adventure

I went to counseling this morning. It was perfect timing on the heels of my latest Ohio Adventure and the stress of traveling by plane.

I want to find a way to encourage people to try counseling, or to encourage people to continue going to counseling if they already go. I don’t have any clever gimmicks. I have no way to make the magic happen for anyone else. I just want you to be well. I want you to feel happy, and I want you to understand yourself better and accept yourself. If you do feel happy and you do accept yourself, you probably don’t feel like you need counseling. I’m cool with that, and I feel proud of you. You got it goin’ on!

If you break your arm, you go to the doctor, explain what happened and how your arm feels. The doctor provides medication, a cast, information about ongoing care to repair your broken arm. Maybe you need pins in your elbow, or you have to wear the cast for so long that your muscles atrophy and you have to follow through with physical therapy after the cast is removed. Chances are, you’ll do all of that without hesitation and without question. I mean, you need your arm, right? You can do life with one arm, but it’ll be easier with two.

Your brain isn’t broken. Your emotions aren’t broken. Your spirit isn’t broken. If you don’t feel well, if you don’t feel right, if you just don’t feel, there are ways to work on this. There are paths to the best YOU that YOU can be. Maybe it’s like physical therapy, but for your emotional self, for your spirit and your mental health? There are places where you can sit and cry, cuss, cover your face, close your eyes, plainly say, “I feel angry,” or just sit quietly. You can say, “This isn’t fair,” “This hurt my feelings,” “I’m glad I did that,” “I didn’t deserve that,” “I wish I had done more,” “I wish I felt like I could say…” Whatever you need or want. I even laugh and giggle during counseling. For me, it is absolutely a safe place, and I believe in the power of a counselor’s office to be a safe place for whoever needs it. I’m not sure I know anybody who doesn’t need that.

I love to go to counseling. I look forward to it. I keep a mental (and sometimes written) list of things to make sure I share. Just knowing an appointment is coming up is more helpful than you might imagine. When I receive my text reminder, I feel relieved. And when I’m struggling with something, and I ask my counselor, “Do I have to do this?” and he says, “No,” that sense of liberation is just more than I ever thought I’d have in this life. It may take some time, but the burden lifts eventually.

If someone reaches out to you, LISTEN and help. If you don’t know what to do, your community probably has a mental health deputy, emergency medical services of some kind, a health department, etc. If you don’t know what to do, get your phone book out and call SOMEONE. You can find someone who knows what to do. You can find someone to help with the financial burden or transportation barrier. If you’re reading this, you know me, and I will help. Don’t forget that the word “health” does not exclusively apply to physical health.

I do not believe in throwing anyone away. I do not believe in protecting myself or my image at the detriment of someone else’s wellbeing. Nobody is perfect, and there is no number of stories you can tell that will make you appear perfect. If you need help, go get it or start looking for it. If someone tells you that they need help, that’s not about you. Do what you can to help that person feel and be better. It’s not about you. No matter how good your image is, a person who is hurting will continue to hurt. That person’s hurt will likely get worse. What happens to you or with you does not do anything to help the person who needs help. When people need help, they absolutely get to be selfish, because the other options are bad. The other options aren’t even real options. In many instances of a person hurting, that person already does not feel worthy. The person doesn’t feel valuable. If we take away the opportunity to be selfish when they NEED to be selfish, it reinforces that nasty idea that everyone else is more valuable. I can speak to this, because I have been there many times, over and over. Do I need to spell out some possible consequences of a person feeling worthless or just less-than everyone else?

Having said all of this, don’t forget that you cannot pour from an empty cup, so make sure you help yourself (s/o to Addie for the reminder). I spent a lot of years trying to make myself an island because other people can be so goddamn awful, cold and unreliable. It never worked. It is so cheesy and so worn out, but no person is an island. Nobody does “good life” alone. Whether we like it or not, we are social beings and, luckily, the word “community” has several definitions. When you find your community, they help you do “good life.” That includes you pulling your weight in that same community, so everyone involved gets to have “good life.”

If you have questions about counseling or you want me to be quiet (note: I’ll interpret this as me hitting too close to home for you and you not being able to handle your real feelings, in which case YOU NEED COUNSELING), reach out via contact form here, via FB, via IG (@commonmaggie). You can reach me. Take care of yourself, take care of each other and be kind.

I do not trust myself enough. I’m also too hard on myself, but I guess that is true of most people. I am constantly trying to find the group into which I fit.

I have been lusting after a tshirt that has an image of Albert Fish on it with the text, “Full of Grace.” Now, you have options: you can Google “Albert Fish” and “Grace” and thank me later (hint: you’re not likely to thank me later), or you can contact me via Facebook, Twitter (@commonmaggie), Instagram (commonmaggie) or leave a comment here for me to ask, “Hey, what does that shirt mean?” So, I have had my eye on this shirt for months. A few things are stopping me: I don’t need another tshirt; I shouldn’t spend money on something I don’t need; I’m not sure how often I’d wear it. I mean, it’s an Albert Fish tshirt. If you Googled what I instructed you to Google, you know it’s inappropriate. Also, is this shirt ME?

I am simultaneously lusting after a sweater blazer – among other items – from JCrew. It is my favorite clothing brand. I cannot help myself.

What group is that? The group of women who cannot pass up a good serial killer pun tshirt but who want to wear a JCrew cardigan over the serial killer tshirt (I have a great emerald green cardigan that I want to wear over ev-er-y-thing). While actively thinking about this, I have told myself that if it is just me – which is unlikely – that’s okay. If there are only 4 of us in the world, that’s okay, too. If there are thousands, and they all live in Scandinavia while I live in Texas, it’s still okay. I like to think I will get to “the others” some day. But, if it’s just me or if I never meet others, it is okay.

As cheesy as it is, I often give myself pep talks about being myself. Some days, I do it more than once. Other days, being myself and owning it come so easily. I am not 100% sure of every single thing. I probably never will be. But I know myself better and better all the time.

I can tell you what I like: serial killers, preppy clothes, expensive purses, Converse, blankets, disturbing stories, horror movies, mysteries, silly socks, puppies, bookstores, music stores, comedies, puns, crossword puzzles, books, cardigans, boots, hats, my Honda Fit, the color green, my glasses, ice cream, Italian food, brunch, art, skylines, the tall green trees of my homeland and the unbelievably wide sky of west Texas, rainy days at home, soft fabrics, wandering around with Todd, road trips, holding babies (Yes, I like holding babies, especially the part when I hand the baby to someone else), watching football, swearing, writing, working out, sleeping in, yoga, warm weather, the beach, the mountains, the Pacific Northwest, people watching, the smell of books, shuffling cards, scarves, hoodies, reading about surreal horror films I may never get to watch because they exist in such a small space, trying to understand what “surreal” means, finding a new author to love, being an Introvert, telling people I’m an Introvert, poetry, playing games, finding one more thing to love about San Angelo, getting dressed up, the physical act and physical sensation of writing, fresh notebooks, Ramona, movie lists (ie The 50 Scariest Movies of All Time), never having had to stop listening to an episode of The Last Podcast on The Left (I want all the gold stars!), fundraising for MS research, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, vampire lore, learning about sex offenders, being assertive, helping someone “come around,” things that could likely be described as “fucked up,” surprise flowers, desperately trying to find an NFL team to support (how long ago did Peyton Manning retire, and I still have no clue), buying things from school fundraisers, and on and on and on. The list may never end.

For some balance, here are some things I don’t like: butterflies, the color pink, Metallica, science fiction movies, boxing, lima beans, beer, the NY Yankees, Alabama football, peep-toe shoes, face tattoos, chevron pattern, deciding that every person who has committed a crime is a bad person, elitism, being interrupted, mansplaining, being treated like I can’t handle things, eating meat off of the bone, spicy food, the idea that addiction isn’t a disease, people who argue that sexual contact with children should be permitted if the child consents (a child cannot consent), people who wear dark clothing while jogging around Santa Rita in the dark, not being able to read all of the books at once, not having a window in my office, how difficult it is to find shirts for work that are stylish but not low cut, and on and on and on.

I really did begin this entry focusing on my lack of feeling like I belong in a group. In a way, I have found “my people,” but they aren’t my people in that I can say I am a certain type of person and they are the same type of persons. I don’t think there’s anything concise I can say about myself that would give a person an idea of who I am. I don’t have a category, like goth, that would right away tell someone what to expect from me. I don’t identify as a feminist (see previous entry) or a yankee. I’m not a Texan. I’m not a buckeye (2-4-6-8 who gives a shit about Ohio State?), and I’m not an athlete. I don’t identify with a certain religion, at this time. I didn’t go to a big, well-known college (it I’m not an Aggie). I’m not an English teacher. I’m not a Steelers fan.

So, where does one belong if her first heroes were Daria Morgandorfer, Sylvia Plath and Elizabeth Wurtzel? I wrote high school research papers about the Manson family and euthanasia (I support the Right to Die movement). The only moderately decent stories I’ve ever written were “horror” stories, but I’ve written some poetry that wasn’t total trash (probably 98.5% trash). I want to spend the rest of my life working with and researching sex offenders and sex offender treatment. I love to watch Bob’s Burgers. Hannibal Lecter is my favorite fictional character and I love the Harry Potter series. Reading The Complete Stories of Flannery O’Connor changed my life. As did The Handmaid’s Tale and Anatomy of Motive.

When we were in California, the same day we visited The Huntington, we also visited The Museum of Death (LA), and I really enjoyed both. Both were important to me on that trip. On a different day, we made a quick stop outside of Jim Henson Studios so I could see the Kermit the Frog statue. Then we went to Amoeba Music where I almost bought a Texas Chain Saw Massacre tshirt (wish I had). None of this seems to add up to anything logical.

Maybe all of this rambling is a lesson, for myself, in not being able to put anyone into a group; not being able to have any expectation of anyone based upon a group with which a person may choose to identify. It would be nice to come away from this topic having lost the feeling that I should fit in a group, because the reality is that nobody does.

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