The Glue That Binds Us

I've been experimenting on myself. For some time now. I don't talk about it often and I may have only fully accepted it recently but I have OCD. Not OCPD where I like things neat and how I like them and I'm cool with my level of attention to detail. I have life changing, can't control it, inhibiting my life with intrusive thoughts and time consuming behaviors OCD.

I recently discovered my panic attacks have occurred with enough frequency and strength to be considered a panic disorder. When I read the part about the anxiety and shame knowing that the behaviors or thoughts are standing in your way of a normal life it feels a lot like floating above oneself. Like I must be reading about a clinical study of a patient and not what my life feels like. I spend every moment I'm not trapped in irrational terror really laughing it up and enjoying my time.

It is standing on the other side of sound proof glass.

It is having the world tell you, don't worry, nothing is wrong at all, only to not have them realize that compounds the problem. People with OCD are perfectly aware that something is wrong with us because otherwise we appear in reality perfectly safe. Yes it has occurred to us to stop doing that to ourselves. Yes we may realize where the behaviors or thoughts were developed. But that doesn't make the patterns of chemical reactions in your brain that cause floods of cortisol and adrenaline pumping through your veins any more controllable or feel any less real.

I know what the treatments and available options modern science has for my disorder. I've taken multiple courses on it in high school and college knowing from age 12 that my family is "crazy". Being leery my entire life wondering if I'd suddenly wake up on the full moon a werewolf never realizing I Already had a disorder. The obsessive thoughts wondering about death and what terrible terminal illness I was unknowningly walking around with, or whatever other intrusive thoughts I was having Was my disease. I thought for almost all of my life that other people's minds are as busy and full and inquisitive as my own. I've learned in my old age to see other people's perspective. Which is probably thinking about themselves, and wondering about their own anxieties. But maybe without as much intensity.

I've studied abnormal and child psychology. I know that I would be immediately put on an SSRI drug. And I'd be switched from one to another (experimentation) until I found one with the least awful side effects. That is if I don't kill myself because there is a 1 in 4 chance you'll have a bad reaction to an SSRI and really badly want to commit suicide. I've had that happen. I won't treat myself like a lab animal again. Suicidal thoughts are especially dangerous for people suffering from obsessive thoughts. Once a wound has been suffered it festers and consumes you until you can think of nothing else.

I've had obsessive thoughts about people, money, being a mother, school, work, social interactions. They are also referred to as intrusive thoughts. In elementary school and high school I'd lay awake at night for hours or all night long agonizing about every syllable of every word of every sentence that came out of my mouth that day. All the times I felt I should have held back. All the times I felt I spoke out of turn, or hurt someone's feelings. Or annoyed someone by just being who I am, where I am, with them around.

I know where the seeds were planted that grew into the trees of my mind. My mom, my grandmother's, the foundation, my trunks. My immigrant heritage my roots. But the branches are all the people who I've ever met. The limbs that need to be pruned are memories of who told me in my life that I talk too much. I am too loud or I have too much to say. All these vines and weeds in my beautiful garden. 

I am hyper sensitive and attuned to other people's emotions when I talk to them in person. I watch their eyes. And their shoulders and their body language and if they show any indication they want a turn to speak I shut up. People who are my very good friends will cut me off, some people don't know how so they are cruel and funny and say shut up. But the best way to shut me up is to try and speak. And to say something confidently. Whether a story about your life, an idea you have about a theory, or your opinion about anything. Most likely I want to know. I find people are more comfortable sharing with me when I openly share with them first. As a child and into adolescence I was taught my ability to open up, trust, and connect with others was a weakness. Something to be ashamed of. It is my greater strength. It is my gift. But it does drain me.

I was raised to perform. Literally I had formal singing and dancing and instrument lessons. But in another way from age 4 I was raised in a business. I was raised to talk to adults. To entertain people without annoying them or offending them. I was raised to dress and act appropriately in any environment wearing the proper amount of make up. 

It was entirely exhausting to be me. I had my few years of High School where I refused to appease and conform with my dress and hair. Blue/black hair. Black lipstick. Black clothes. Anything to make strangers or assholes in high school want to think twice about touching me uninvited. My OCD doesnt keeo me from toucing people all together. But im selective with who I hug. When you become a pretty boob ladden teenage girl, grown men and everyone in general has no qualms about touching your body like they own it or commenting it however they see fit. 

But in the salon and many other places like Catholics school I still spoke accordingly. Educated, not too loud, not about controversial things, like a good young lady should. All the while cultivating another personality with my friends who were only my own where we called everyone who was mean a cunt and declared the world was as fucked up as we were. Eventually became one kid in a graduating class of 218 who was on the side of women and choices in the abortion debate and the only 15 year old screaming that we were going to war in Iraq on lies. Everyone loved George W. "He's the kind of guy I'd like to sit down and have a beer with."

I love raw people. That's probably why I thought I could be a psychiatrist. And why I went to school for it Just long enough to know I wouldn't spend my life giving people experimental drugs that affect parts of the human mind's chemicals and energy that we don't fully understand yet. I love people torn open who don't have the choice or privilege of keeping up walls. Everyone has things they are ashamed of. Often when people criticise me for my awkwardness or my talkativeness I remind myself that I am not awkward, I am not overly talkative in my opinion, and that is their personal insecurity spilling forth onto me. The more secure and accepting I am of myself, the less I have the desire to hurt other people with my words and the more I try to think about what I say so I don't hurt anyone by accident with an unresearched opinion or a matter I don't know is personal to them because people keep their most guarded secrets sometimes only to themselves.

Those of us who are surviving life well know that the key is in telling other people your story. The more people you can trust with your truth, the more your ability to love and forge new connections grows.

In all of my research into mental health I've discovered that modern sciences answer for me is that I will develope chronic depression from not being able to control my obsessive dermatillamania. That one will constantly fuel the other until I die from that or something else unrelated. But that answer means it will always inhibited and dampen the joy in my life and I don't accept that answer.

Many times in the past, science and the modern consensus of the time has gotten reality very wrong. Mental health, specifically OCD and depression I've personally experienced are entirely mishandled. In my second hand experience I've seen other anxiety and psychiatric disorders like schizophrenia completely misrepresented and mistreated.

Much of what we know about the human mind and how it developes and works is from research done on people who lived in cages. I think all of the experiments we take for granted should be thrown out and all further studies should be done without allowing for testing on humans. Studying life is one thing. Experimenting on people or animals in cruel ways should be against the ethics of modern science.

We should not ever start from the assumption that other humans are animals we need to study and fix. Humans are fellow beings of energy and light who need knowledge and guidance. You can not force change onto people, you can not "fix" them. Teach them history. Let them see all we know of technology and science and the universe. They don't need fixing. We are designed to heal ourselves with help from one another. And that's not to say that we don't all get a few chips and cracks around the edges before we leave this life. Relationships of love are the glue that binds us together. The epoxy that smooths our edges. The spackle on the walls we've built to protect ourselves.

Feministing Reminiscing

I have had this conversation before with many women. People compliment us when we wear make up. And when we don't people tell us we look tired, or ask if we are ok. Some interaction with a negative response.

When my hair is brightly colored people tell me they like my hair often. It is always brightly colored now. It has been every variation of the color spectrum of light and dark of shades and tones and any day now every combination of every color variation. I like it that way. It changes with my mood.

When I fear severely like when I had to leave my mother's salon. The salon I grew up in since I was 4. I had one step next to buzzed, severely short hair, I liked it, it was easy to do. I always dried it, it took two minutes. And in the weeks before I left I died it hot pink.

I kept it very short for some time. Having odd asymmetrical haircuts is hard for me with the OCD. I'm home a lot. I was home more than usual last winter. With my son. With my dad. I needed to be outside my comfort zone and yet I was home with incense and candles and meditation and musical instruments and video games and netflix as distractions.

I watched all of Lost in a month last year which seemed insane and childish. Everyone said it was life changing and epic when it was on. It was vague and intentionally manipulating. You can tell more when it is watched without commercials or having to stop when the episode is over. T.V. designed for the adrenaline rush. Designed for the anticipation.

Lost seemed so fake next to the horrors real life has witnessed in the wake of the hurricane. Hurricane Sandy for those people not near the shores of the east coast and don't drive there for Christmas dinner where you can't see because there aren't enough street lights fixed yet and there are ditches dug across many roads so you have to k turn a lot even though you're in a place where everything should look familiar and nothing does. Real life problems are so much more complex than Hollywood makes them. After all these years they still can't top the vibrancy of the human imagination spontaneously forming mental pictures from plain text words.

I hope this new year brings a flood of emotion and with that I can talk about all that has happened this year. When Grandma Jackie died in January I cut my now 3 month grown hair again. I died it the deepest blues. So many blues like the ocean I couldn't go see because it was still filled with debris. When I finally went to the spot that is sacred to me. The spot where I go to see forever. It looked similar. It still said Funtown on the sign on the cabin even though everything else was gone. But all the sand on the white beach was new. It was cold and drizzling in July. The wind whipped me on the boardwalk in Seaside Park as I looked out on how much was gone but also at how much was still there. A month later all those boards and the cabin burned to the ground.

This winter you can see that this summer was all for show. All the Progress made at The Jersey Shore Was for the commercial success of Chris Christie's re-election and this winter proved it. Things are not much better or maybe even worse for the victims of the storm. Although we all have good holidays because we appreciate even the little things more. Electricity for instance. Warm socks. Someone to be with who you love whether or not you're not blood related.

Family comes in all shapes and sizes and there is no right way to be a family. As long as you have love and compassion for the people you connect with in life. And hopefully you can at least respect  those you don't, enough to leave them alone, and not be a catalyst for pain in anyone's life.

My goal is to be a positive influence in peoples life. And not let their judgements and insecurities effect my happiness because I no longer want to live in fear and pain. In fact I flat out refuse. As mad as that makes some people, I say good! Mad is the first step. Passion for something. Then you start to question how to fix what you're mad about. And you realize you can't fix the world's problems through anger and fear because they are bread in anger and fear. Love a lot of times takes stepping out of your comfort zone. It takes making sacrifices or compromises. Love requires that you consider someone else's feelings as important as your own when making your big life decisions. 

My hair is starting to grow in. The roots come in and I lighten them and make them pink. The blue can't be entirely bleached out at this point because the ends of my hair have been blue for over a year. I don't want to cut myself off from the year that I've had entirely. No matter how painful it has been. But every time I dye my hair, it gets a little more pink.

For this Christmas it was very light blonde with brown roots and baby pink and baby blue. It feels faded to me. I feel faded when my hair is. And it is likely true that if I haven't even had 2 hours to myself to paint my own head and play around with mirrors listening to music I probably am pretty fucking tired and faded. But people tell me it looks nice when I wear make up and style my hair.

No matter the length or color, if I conform to social beauty norms of makeup, blow dryers, and flat irons I get compliments. But I find them always to be double sided, every time someone tells me my hair looks good because I took a half an hour to fuck with it, it makes me feel like it doesn't look good when I don't. Same with make up, all women know they get comcompliments on their skin and beauty with make up on. With out it you're demoted from goddess who is incapable of opening doors for herself to a human just like errbody else. Not to mention that similar or the same people will say things like, what happened to your hair, if I don't do it and it looks flat and wiley as straight hair often does.

I don't think girls with curly hair should iron it straight. I don't think they should blow dry their hair straight for so many years it's always a semi straight frizz from heat damage without more leave in conditioner spray and a flat iron. We shouldn't wash our hair everyday. We need oils in our hair. We shouldn't put cream on our face. No one makes sure all the ingredients are safe.

My skin looks like porcelain with makeup on. I can contour and blend like no other. Flawlessness is my gig. The OCD makes me very good at my job. I can spot a symmetrical flaw from a mile away.

People are not symmetrical, people are not flawed. People are all unique. Every single one of us, even genetically identical twins raised in the same household by the same parents with the same siblings. Everyone is the same material component, the same elements, the same energies. We all view this experience from a new perspective. We all contribute just by being here. The standards of what women should be are outrageous and unacceptable.

Happy Winter Solstice! Love, Jackie Lane

I give my husband and son socks and underwear in their giant over-sized Christmas stockings. Some people think those are boring presents. We appreciate small privileges. I am going to buy them this time of year anyway because I only buy things when they are on sale. So I stuff them in giant over-sized stockings, along with other small gifts to make socks and underwear more exciting.

It's not every year. But sometimes we need to remember some people don't have the luxury of buying new socks whenever they want. Warm feet are a security everyone should have so we assume they do and take ours for granted.

Not everyone has brand new warm socks. It's not about how much you spend but small comforts or fun that mean more because someone else cared enough to take care of them for you.  

Happy Winter Solstice!
Let the lengthening days warm your heart and remind you of the light that is inside all of us.
Love ~ Jackie Lane

Duck Dynasty

My husband is having a rough week.
"Hey, did you hear about Phil?"
"...Phil who?"
"You know, Phil on TV!"
"Dr. Phil?"
"No. Come on, you know..."
"..."
"Duck Dynasty!"

He's not exactly the conservative they are expecting. Surprisingly not all men with beards are conservatives or watch reality T.V. contrary to popular opinion.

'Tis the Season For Anixety

I wanted to be more productive than I feel like I've been since I woke up this morning. Morning only has an hour and 15 minutes left. I fell asleep around 2am promptly after finishing working. Zack was up until 11:15p. I'm still so tired and I can't get up thinking about all the things I have to do in the next few days. I just want to put covers over my head and wait. It would be easier but less fun and memorable.

I'm going to try and start posting my thoughts I want to save on my blog instead of just my Facebook because of app luxury, blogger works better on this phone. I bought a micro recorder on sale. I'm so exited. Up to 1100 hours of audio, get ready.

I often have good ideas while driving. Or figure numbers or connections out while driving. I have tried many times to write down a Great thought at a stop light only to have it change and get every green on the way home or a phone call, and it is gone forever into the ether.

I am keeping my contract with the devil that is Verizon Wireless. I have no real choice. I have plenty of illusion of choice but no matter what the alternative is pay $400-500 for a phone that was made for pennies by someone who makes a dollar a day. They own the towers. 4 choices isn't competition, when one raises the anti so do the others. Four "choices" in a country of 330 million people.

I got an LG G2. So far it is amazing. I am blown away with how much better it is than my exactly 2 year old HTC droid. I suppose it benefits my readers to know how I balance a full active family, work, and social life and still have time to blog, talk to 400+ people on Facebook all the time, and post anywhere from 2-10 articles and memes I've read throughout the day. People keep telling me to get on Twitter more to reach more people. I have a hard time using or understanding too few words. It is not my language. I also still enjoy not being sucked into technology 24/7.

We live in a world of privilege and technological advancements and we completely take it for granted. 1/7th of the world's 7 billion people have regular access to the internet. It should be all of us. But I guarantee most people with access aren't utilizing what they have at their finger tips.

We can not come up with advanced technologies in a vacuum. Everyone should have a right to access all information and science at this point. It would only benefit humanity because with minds and beings working at their optimum function we will advance even more quickly. There is no reason for starvation or violence in this world aside from greed. The love of power is undoing all we have accomplished.  The power of love is the only thing that can save us at this point.

Be My Friend