Holl & Lane, Issue 12 Preview (The Mind)

HOLL AND LANE A S A N C T UA RY F O R SO UL - F IL L ED STO R IES

2 017 C olle c tion, Volume II Issue 12 VOLUME II | 1

TEAM SARAH HARTLEY Creator / Editor in Chief sarahhartley.net editor@hollandlanemag.com

MIA SUTTON Editorial Manager thefigmentwriters.com stories@hollandlanemag.com

JESS DOWNEY Social Media Manager chaoticcollected.com

CONTACT For press and advertising inquiries, contact hollandlanepress@gmail.com For contributions, contact stories@hollandlanemag.com For stockists, contact editor@hollandlanemag.com ABOUT We’re starting a movement towards more honest media, giving your voice and stories a platform to share your honest lives.

SOCIAL

MADISEN QUICK Editor's Assistant instagram.com/madisen.quick assistant@hollandlanemag.com

L instagram.com/hollandlanemag I facebook.com/hollandlanemag M pinterest.com/hollandlanemag The opinions expressed within each article do not necessarily represent those of the Holl & Lane team.

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HOLL AND LANE

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Cover Photo by ALLI PETERS PHOTOGRAPHY: allipeters.com Model: ALLEGRA ROSE: allegrarose.com 4 | 2017 COLLECTION

INSIDE HOLL & LANE, ISSUE 12 10 14 20 24 26 30 32 34 38 42 46 50 54 58 64 66 69 72 74 78 80 88

PHOTOGRAPHY IS MY THERAPY LIVING FOR TODAY RELATIONSHIP ANXIETY THE DARK FRIEND BUSY + RENEWED PEACE OF MIND BEAUTIFUL PERSPECTIVES FROM ANGELA TO MASON I MISS MY MOM HEALING THE MIND THE OTHER SIDE OF SUICIDE AUTHENTICALLY BEAUTIFUL MENTAL HEALTH OF AN ENTREPRENEUR IT’S HARDLY NOTICEABLE COPING WITH ANXIETY REACTIVE TO PROACTIVE BENEATH THE SURFACE GATEWAY TO WHOLENESS JOURNEYING THROUGH ANXIETY SUFFERING IN SILENCE LEARNING TO CELEBRATE MY TEMPERAMENTAL MIND

IN EVERY ISSUE

6 EDITOR'S NOTE 7 ISSUE CONTRIBUTORS 8 THE HOLL & LANE GIRL 9 THE LIST 92 POSTCARDS FROM...

98 SPONSORS 100 REGULAR CONTRIBUTORS 102 5 QUESTIONS WITH...

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EVER WONDER ABOUT THE NAME “HOLL & LANE”?

The name is a play on the cross streets of my first home. We consider the home to be the place that you have unguarded conversations, the types that we feature within these pages. Think of Holl & Lane as one big slumber party with your closest friends.

HEADSHOT BY OLIVIA DEMORAY OF HEARTSTRINGS AND LITTLE THINGS

EDITOR’S LETTER MENTAL HEALTH IS one of those topics that people shy away from, even though approximately 1 in 5 adults suffers from a mental health illness, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. But here at Holl & Lane, we want mental health to be as common a topic as self-care. Mental health is self care. When your mental health suffers, so too, does the rest of your life.

Since beginning Holl & Lane Magazine, I have battled my own mental demons of feeling not good enough, suffering from comparisions and wanting to appear as if all is perfect on the outside when inside it feels as if I’m crumbling. So that’s why I decided to write the article “Mental Health of an Entrepreneur” that you’ll find on page 54. I wanted to explain what it feels like inside, while also talking with other entrepreneurs about their own experiences.

In addition, I wanted to show visually what mental health can feel like. On page 10 you’ll find a photo story from Becky Netley of what her struggle feels like, and on page 58 you’ll find photos from “It’s Hardly Noticeable”

by John William Keedy, his photo series exploring mental illness.

This issue is filled with stories about mental health and is appropriately themed The Mind. I hope that after reading through these brave stories, you’ll recognize yourself and realize that you are not alone. I repeat, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Sarah Hartley Editor in Chief

YOU CANNOT HAVE A POSITIVE LIFE AND A NEGATIVE MIND. - JOYCE MEYER

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CONTRIBUTORS ABBIE ROSE WILSON abbierose.ca

DEVON WHITE devongriffin.com

LAURA FOOTE laurafoote.com

AMANDA SLATON

ERICA MUSYT lookingtothestars.com

LEONA MORELOCK leonamorelock.com

FRANCINE DIODATI instagram.com/franscenes

LINDA JOY NEUFELD lindajoy.weebly.com

HEIDI HAGMAN

MASON AID themasonaid.com

AMY BRASWELL paperfinchdesign.etsy.com AMY COOK instagram.com/amy1939 ANNA HEFFINGTON instagram.com/annah_official

JAMIE BRINKMAN jamiebphotography.com

ASHLEY AVINA

JESSICA LITMAN theorganizedmama.com

BECKY NETLEY beckynetley.co.uk BRITTANY LOCKWOOD collectivelybee.com CHELSEA OLIVER chelsealeeoliver.com CHERYL SHEIK lifeisab.com CHRIS RUBEIZ CHRISTA LINDHARDT girlygirllash.com CHRISTINE AMOROSO barenakedinpublic.com DANA MALSTAFF boss-mom.com

JESSICA RASDALL jessicarasdall.com JESSIE LEIBER instagram.com/littlelegendsdesign JOHN WILLIAM KEEDY johnwilliamkeedy.com JUSTINE SONES instagram.com/justinesones KB H hopespringseternalmama.wordpress.com KELLY AGNEW kellymaianutrition.com KELLY BROWN kellybrownwriter.com

MEGAN KUBASCH shieldsistersinitiative.com MIA SUTTON thefigmentwriters.com MOLLY WANTLAND simplymphotography.com NANCYJO RONGNER instagram.com/nj.rongner PAMELA HODGES hodgepodgemoments.com RADHIKA & IAN MCDIARMID radianphotography.com SARAH B. GILLIAM sarahbgilliam.com SARAH HARTLEY sarahhartley.net SAVANNAH BANTON savannahfaithphotography.com WENDY ROBIN everythingbabies.org

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THE HOLL & LANE GIRL

JUST INE SO NES

THE H&L GIRL IS: CREATIVE, SMART AND CAPABLE, SHE IS STRONG AND USES HER PASSIONS TO HELP OTHERS. SHE ENJOYS BEING A PART OF SOMETHING BIGGER THAN HERSELF. SHE IS INNOVATIVE AND PROFESSIONAL BUT KNOWS HOW TO HAVE A GOOD TIME. THE H&L GIRL IS MODERN, GENUINE AND BRAVE. GROWING UP ON a farm outside of a small town in Canada, Justine Sones is no stranger to hard work. As a part of a big family, (Justine is the third of five children), she learned to speak chaos fluently at a young age.

Justine studied massage therapy in college and through that became immersed in the self care world. After going through a bad breakup in her early twenties, she started really investing in self care as a way to better her mental and emotional well-being. She learned that the link between how you take care of yourself and how you show up in your life is so powerful.

Success, In Her Words: To me, success means more than having money in the bank - although that’s definitely a piece of it. I want to earn enough to pay our bills, make two trips to visit my family each year, go out for dinner at least once a week, and save some money for retirement. That would feel abundant.

Knowing the amount of money you want to make to live a life you love is a pretty important piece of business planning and strategy.

On a less literal level, success feels like joy knowing there’s nothing I’d rather be doing than what I’m doing right now. It feels like living my purpose...knowing that the work that I’m doing is aligned with the calling of my heart. That means doing work that lights me up, while giving me the freedom to spend time with my family because they are my why, and they are my world.

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Though she’s a massage therapist by trade, when she wanted to have a family, she knew that she also wanted work that she could do with her baby beside her. She had studied marketing and business strategy as a way to grow her massage business, and she began to apply those skills to work in the online sphere as a virtual assistant. Over time, she started to realize that she was doing so much more than VA work. She was helping people get more clarity around what it meant to create work-life alignment, and helping her clients restructure their schedules to intentionally create time for self care in a world that preaches go-go-go.

She’s found that though most people who run their own businesses are in an incredible position to shape their own lives, they don’t know how to do that in a way that actually works for them. So she transitioned her business and helps women manage their stress and focus on their business. She knows that freeing up the mental bandwidth from stress and chaos allows women to find the space to do creative work in their lives. Most importantly, it means living courageously, and doing the things that make you feel the most alive.

INTERVIEW OF JUSTINE SONES BY MIA SUTTON IMAGES BY ABBIE ROSE WILSON

THE LIST : THE MIND On Our Bookshelf

On Our Playlist

WORDS BY AMY COOK

WORDS BY CHELSEA OLIVER

MOTHER, CAN YOU NOT?

by Kate Siegel There will always be that one person who drives you out of your mind. For many of us, that person is our mother.

Kate Siegel took her mother’s crazy text messages and began posting them to her Instagram page which led to her gaining over 800k followers and a book deal. Check out some of her hilarious adventures with her mother and if you can’t get enough of the shenanigans, find her @crazyjewishmom on Instagram!

ONE THOUSAND BEAUTIFUL THINGS: A COLLECTION OF PROSE AND POETRY CHOSEN FROM THE WORLD’S LITERATURE. Compiled by Marjorie Barrows Have you ever read something that put your mind at ease? Beautiful words, filled with passion and emotion carefully laid out to form beautiful thoughts in the form of sentences? This collection is filled with poems, quotes, plays, and short stories from the world’s greatest authors.

Read a few pages a day to keep pretty thoughts in your head all week long.

LOVE IS A MIXTAPE: LIFE AND LOSS, ONE SONG AT A TIME

by Rob Sheffield Is there a specific song that takes your mind back to a special place and time? For Rob, a writer for Rolling Stone magazine, songs played an important role in every aspect of his life. Through a series of mix tapes, spanning three decades and several genres of music, Rob takes us back to a time and place where he found, married, and lost the love of his life. Humorous and tragic, Love is a Mixtape may have you pulling out your shoebox of tapes and traveling back to the memories of your past.

BETTER SON OR DAUGHTER

by Rilo Kiley WHERE IS MY MIND

by The Pixies THE MISTRESS WITCH FROM MCCLURE (OR, THE MIND THAT KNOWS ITSELF)

by Sufjan Stevens WHEN YOUR MIND’S MADE UP

by Glen Hansard KITCHEN SINK

by Twenty One Pilots OUT OF MY MIND

by B.o.B. feat. Nicki Minaj ON MY MIND

by Elle Goulding PARALYZED

by NF FIRE AWAY

by Chris Stapleton WISE ENOUGH

by LAMB

On Our Screen

WORDS BY ERICA MUSYT

LARS AND THE REAL GIRL Lars is very shy and finds it hard to make friends. When Lars announces to his brother and sister-in-law that he has a new girlfriend he met online, they are ecstatic! Lars introduces his new online love, only for everyone to find out that she is a life size doll he ordered. At the advice of his doctor, Lars’s family and small town community go along with his delusion until he is ready to let it go and accept reality.

THE FISHER KING After his wife is murdered in a bar shooting, Parry, a mentally scarred homeless man, spends his days searching for the Holy Grail. He eventually meets Jack Lucas, a former radio DJ, who helps Parry in his quest.

WHAT’S EATING GILBERT GRAPE Gilbert Grape is a young man in a small town taking care of everyone around him. His mother is extremely overweight and cannot leave the house. There is also his younger brother Arnie, who is mentally impaired and has a tendency to get into trouble. Gilbert’s modest world is shaken up when he meets a free spirited woman name Becky.

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PHOTOGRAPHY IS MY THERAPY

WORDS & IMAGES BY BECKY NETLEY

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I WANT TO END THE STIGMA AROUND MENTAL ILLNESS

I'M A SURVIVOR of mental illness, specifically borderline personality disorder. I say survivor because I no longer feel like a victim to it but there were plenty of times when it almost killed me.

My experience has urged me to talk openly and honestly about mental illness. This is my story.

From the age of 13 I have suffered

explored why I self harmed and how it helped. I discovered that it was a way to show my emotional distress in a physical way when words failed me. I thought there must be another way to show how I'm feeling without putting myself in danger and permanently damaging my body. And that's when photography became a big part of my life.

I first started trying to document when I was in a distressed state by taking simple self portraits. The problem with this is that I hated the way I looked when I had been crying and couldn't imagine sharing the photos with the world! So I started to create ideas when I was in a better state of mind. I loved surreal art and wanted to create photography similar to the surrealist style because what I was feeling was hard to explain in itself !

AND LET PEOPLE KNOW THAT THEY'RE NOT ALONE IN WHAT THEY'RE FEELING.

from major depression and low self esteem, causing me to use self harm as a coping mechanism.

Throughout my teenage years I always felt different from my peers. I was constantly up and down in moods and became paranoid that people were talking about me. Self harm grew into a comfortable habit, being the only thing that could physically show how I was feeling.

As I grew up I wanted to get help, and started therapy to help overcome my self harm. I

I am proud to show my personal photography as I want to end the stigma around mental illness and let people know that they're not alone in what they're feeling.

It's now been 4 years since I started using photography to help me recover and while I still do my personal work, it's less dark as I'm in the best mental state that I have ever been!

I would urge anyone suffering from mental illness to try out different forms of art until they find one that helps them express and release those difficult emotions. &

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ON NOVEMBER 11, 2013 I woke up with a horrendous headache and a terrifying feeling. I couldn’t remember much of anything from the night before. There was this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt a nudge to check the trash can and there I found three empty bottles of wine. How had I gotten to this point?

WORDS BY ERICA MUSYT // IMAGES BY CHRIS RUBEIZ

I grew up in a loving household. My parents would entertain and have friends over. I might have seen my parents intoxicated a handful of times, but nothing major. When I was little I remember being in our backyard during a barbecue and my dad let me take a sip his beer. I thought it was the most disgusting thing I had ever tasted. When I was 16 years old I tried it again. I was out with some older kids one night after work. They bought me my own six pack of Smirnoff Ice and it was a joy to drink all six bottles! Later that night I helped one of the girls finish off a bottle of vodka. I experienced my first blackout and was hungover for two days. I was also grounded for two weeks.

A couple of years later I went away to college. Drinking was everywhere and it was normal to be drunk Thursday through Saturday. That was what college life was all about! Did it matter that I might have been a bit promiscuous? “I was so drunk!” was always the excuse for inappropriate behavior. “Everyone did it” was just another. There were several mornings where I would need friends to help me remember the night before, but so did everyone else. Binge drinking was the normal thing to do. It wasn’t until after college, when I moved away from home, that my binge drinking wasn’t quite so normal.

After I graduated from college, I packed up my car and moved to Los Angeles to pursue my dreams of being a movie star. It was tough being out there on my own. My family was on the other side of the country and I was all alone. In time I made friends and became social. I had my nights out dancing and drinking and having a good time. Nothing like in college, but I was having fun.

A NEW ROUTINE After being in LA for a few years I started to realize that my acting career wasn’t going anywhere. I had been dropped by a talent manager and already gone through two talent agents. I was working the front desk at a Hollywood hotel wondering where my life was going. I remember walking home from the gym one day and bursting into tears. I sent my mom an email saying that I didn’t understand why she and dad were so proud of me. I was just some kid with no money and nothing to show for herself. My nightly routine had become a bottle of wine and a frozen pizza after work. Dating in Los Angeles was dreadful and I went through men like candy. They only seemed to want ‘casual’ relationships; at least with me anyways. I continuously got the excuse that being in a real relationship wouldn’t give them time to focus on their careers. I didn’t know it, but I was beginning to fall into a deep depression. ›››

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CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE After 5 years in Los Angeles I headed home to the east coast for a job in Washington DC. I thought being closer to my family, now only a four hour drive away, would fix all of my problems. I had a great job in a fantastic city and got really lucky with a wonderful roommate. We had a great time living together. Our apartment became known as ‘Bar #5,’ because we were always having people over for parties.

“ I woke up the The depression, however, was still there. I found myself in fits of tears for no reason at all. One weekend I went home to visit my parents and my mom had made an appointment for me to next morning see our family doctor. He suggested I start taking a mild antidepressant. After being on medication for a few weeks I could knowing that feel a difference. I felt normal again. I thought all of my problems were finally fixed.

I was lucky My drinking was still going strong, but I thought it was normal.

At the time someone I was close with was in a relationship with to be alive. an active alcoholic. I saw what he went through with her and I swore that I would never do that to anyone that I loved. It was He could awful to see him in so much pain, because of her poor choices. I was nothing like her. I didn’t hide wine bottles at home, I didn’t WE OFFER PRINT ISSUES, go to work drunk, and I didn’t drink at work. I was fine. I was a have been a ‘normal’ drinker.

DIGITAL ISSUES, crazy person OUTSIDE OF NORMAL In early 2013 I started to think that my drinking might not be as ‘normal’ as I thought. I had done a report for my boss at work and AND PLENTY OF who rapes she was really pleased with me, so I decided to celebrate when I got home. I bought a six pack of beer and told myself that I would and murders only drink two beers. When I realized I was on the sixth one I SUBSCRIPTION OPTIONS! poured the rest of it down the sink and sat down. Why couldn't I people. have just two beers?

A few weeks later, on March 10th, my life started to change. I had been out with a friend drinking, having a good time at a

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“

few bars. We even snuck some booze into the movie theater. On my way home I got pulled over for swerving on the interstate. The police officer had me perform a field sobriety test on the side of the road. I passed the test, but failed the breathalyzer. I blew a 0.126 BAC - the legal limit is 0.08. The officer did not arrest me or cite me with a DUI. He did write me a ticket for reckless driving, had my car towed, and called me a cab. I woke up the next morning feeling awful! I was too ashamed to call anyone to take me to my car, so I walked all the way to the tow yard. Over the next few weeks I was very ‘careful’ with my drinking.

go away. I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions, so I drank them away instead. I could find any reason or excuse to drink. Everything was a drinkable occasion.

THE REALIZATION There is one particular night that changed my life forever.

I was at home making tomato sauce and the recipe called for a ½ cup of wine. I drank the rest of the bottle and another one after that. I don’t really remember getting through dinner. My memory of that night is very blurry.

I do remember that I was craving companionship. I just wanted someone to hold me. Being single among all of your married and/or coupled friends can be hard on a thirty-something girl. I sat down at my computer and created a profile on one of those free dating sites.

I started chatting with someone and in no time invited him over. I don't remember his name or what he looked like. He came over to my apartment and stayed for a little while. I remember telling him that he could stay the night if he wanted to. I really just wanted to be held.

He didn’t stay. Afterwards he left and I never saw or heard from him again.

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When I went home for Easter weekend later that month I broke down in tears and told my mother everything.

I was crying uncontrollably and was so scared of what she would think of her daughter! My mom put her arms around me and comforted me. She then suggested that I find a meeting and that she would go with me. The next morning my mom went with me to my first recovery meeting. I picked up a 24 hour chip and admitted that I had a problem with alcohol and wanted to change my life. I cried through that entire meeting. I was sober for three months and twenty two days.

During the court process my lawyer asked me to get a note from my family doctor saying that I didn’t have a problem with alcohol. The doctor asked me a few questions and after hearing my answers determined that I didn't have a problem with alcohol. Looking back on it, I may not have been completely honest with my answers. I got through court, paid a fine, and had some points added to my record for the next few years.

I continued to go to meetings. I found myself sitting there judging people while thinking to myself, “I never did anything like that” or “I never went to jail.” If my doctor didn’t think I was an alcoholic and my parents didn't think I was an alcoholic, then I must not be an alcoholic after all. I just needed to be more careful!

I woke up the next morning knowing that I was lucky to be alive. He could have been a crazy person who rapes and murders people. Luckily for me he wasn't. I also woke up knowing that if I didn’t make a serious change right then, that I may not be so lucky next time.

Next time I might not wake up. I called a friend and she agreed to meet with me that evening and then would accompany me to a meeting. That night I picked up another 24 hour chip and made the decision to change my life for good this time. In March I was afraid of the consequences of my actions - losing my license, going to jail, etc. This time I was afraid for my life.

On November 11, 2016, I celebrated 3 years of sobriety.

These past three years have been the best years of my life. I have learned how to deal with all of those emotions that I used to drink away. I have realized that so much of it was fear - fear of the past and fear for the future. I wasn’t focusing on today. I have so much in my life to be grateful for, especially my incredibly supportive family that has been by my side as I went through this. Alcoholism doesn’t just affect the drinker, it affects everyone around them. I didn't know that before. If anything had happened to me I would have been putting those people through a world of pain and forced them to confront so many questions they didn't know the answers to, because I was too selfish in my own actions.

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How careful was I? Well, I pretty much went right back to where I was before in no time at all. I went back to being promiscuous, blacking out, needing a reminder the next day of what I did the night before. There was one night I drove around a police barricade. That police officer was not very happy with me. I would repeat conversations, because I was too drunk to remember already having them. If there was a happy hour, I would find it. If there wasn’t, then I would create my own at home. It was easy for me to go through two bottles of wine in one night. If I needed more, then all I had to do was walk a block to the store and pick up another bottle.

Drinking alone was what I did best. It helped cover up the deep loneliness that I felt. If I was angry or frustrated with someone in my personal life or at work, I would pour myself a glass of wine and all those feelings would

I can’t change the past. I can only move forward. I can only be a living amends to those around me by staying sober and living the life I have been so graciously given. &

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THERE IS A CRACK IN EVERYTHING. THAT'S HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN. -LEONARD COHEN

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ILLUSTRATION BY JESSIE LEIBER VOLUME II | 19

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WORDS BY KELLY AGNEW

RELATIONSHIP

ANXIETY THREE YEARS AGO I went on a date with a cute guy I’d met at work. We barely knew each other, but I was drawn to him. He was calm, easygoing, polite, respectful and considerate; he was unlike anyone I’d ever been with. He was genuine and simply… nice.

Within two weeks, we were completely inseparable. Although friends reminded me that it was risky to date someone from work, I never felt worried with him. We were two peas in a pod - like peanut butter and jelly - and we were smitten with each other. We spent almost every moment of every day together, except, of course, when we were actually working. Many people asked if we got sick of seeing each other so often, but we never did.

About six months into our relationship, we started getting serious about our future. The topic of marriage, kids and living together were discussed. Although we weren’t ready for it at that moment, we were feeling each other out - did he feel it too? Not surprisingly, we were on the same page.

Then I had a panic attack. ›››

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“THE MIND CAN BE AN UNCONTROLLABLE BEAST”

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Ten months into the best relationship of my life, I freaked out. I remember the moment it happened too - as if a switch was turned on and I needed to get out now. Thoughts like we can’t do this anymore; how do I know he’s the one; we have to break up were repeated over and over in my head like a broken record.

love this man”. In that moment, I realized it was all in my head. I do, I replied, letting her words sink in. I could say that without hesitation. He was my everything; but I was terrified to commit to someone for the rest of my life.

That’s why I had a panic attack.

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What the heck had just happened to me?

I had been in bad relationships before, so I was familiar with relationship anxiety. I know what it’s like to worry about whether or not they’re “the one”. I have experienced the heart- and gut-wrenching feeling of is this really going to last?

But this time, my heart kept reminding me that he was different - he was everything I’d ever wanted and I knew that. I didn’t have any reason to doubt us, so why was my mind trying to do everything to sabotage this incredible relationship? I couldn’t figure it out.

After the panic attack, my anxious thoughts lasted for weeks. I had to be honest with him, but it hurt both of us to talk about what was going on in my mind. I had no explanation for my feelings, but I made it clear that I wasn’t going to throw us away. I was desperate not to give up on something great. I realized that I needed someone to help me sort through my thoughts and feelings - someone completely objective and unbiased.

A couple weeks later I had my first appointment with a therapist. I was nervous; what was she going to think of me? What can she even do to help? Countless thoughts and worries raced through my mind until we started talking.

Quickly she identified situations that I already knew were triggers for my anxiety, but then she dug deeper. She uncovered feelings and experiences that I didn’t even know were an issue.

She reassured me that many people struggle with commitment, and that I wasn’t alone. After 12 sessions over the span of 6 months, I felt like a brand new person. Therapy taught me something that I was lacking: compassion - for myself and my anxiety especially. I learned why I was panicking, and that it was okay. I am allowed to be scared of the future, especially given past experiences.

After months of work on myself, we finally reached a place where our relationship was stable and happy. I always knew he was worried, but he stuck by me through it all and trusted that I knew what I was doing. That was 2 years ago.

Today, we are moving into a new house that we’ve built over the past year. He is still the man of my dreams; he’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more. I am committed to him wholeheartedly, and I will do everything in my power to make sure we experience a lasting and loving relationship. Anxiety or not, that’s what we both deserve.

The mind can be an uncontrollable beast. It can make choices for you, without rationalization or consent. It can hijack your feelings and thoughts without any clear reason.

Sometimes the reason is buried so deep, and you can’t get there on your own to fix it. I am thankful for the therapist who was able to help me navigate my emotions and lift the fog of my anxiety. I have since learned that the most important thing is to know myself - deep, deep down - and trust my gut.

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She then asked me to talk about my boyfriend. She probed and prodded, and in the end she said “wow, you must really

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Now that I know my anxiety and my triggers better, I have can have the relationship that I deserve.

And I’m happy to report that I haven’t had a panic attack since. &

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the dark friend WHEN DEATH COMES INTO YOUR LIFE AT 13 YEARS OLD, DO YOU ALLOW THE DARK FRIEND TO OVERTAKE YOU AND LEAD YOU DOWN THE DARK PATH? OR DO YOU FIGHT, ALWAYS KNOWING THAT HE’S STANDING IN THE CORNER WAITING FOR YOU?

WORDS BY JESSICA LITMAN

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IT HAPPENED WHEN I WAS 13.

my secret friend and told me he was no good to me.

I was on a double-decker bus, coming home from a bar mitzvah party. We were being typical 13-year-olds, goofing around on the ride back from the party.

I went to therapy to deal with my depression. That dark path with that dark friend. He fought to stay with me. He still does.

The party was a lot of fun. There was some dancing.

Mostly gossiping. Definitely eating. As the party was coming to a close, the weather had significantly improved. It went from a cool May day, to a warm, almost summer-like feel.

He wanted to join me after breakups with boyfriends.

During low points in my life. During deaths that have been all too frequent in my life.

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Every time he showed up, I would humor him. Let him chat. But I would never let him in. He grew used to my flirtatious games. Playing with fire. Looking but not touching. Keeping him close but not letting him in.

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The bus driver thought the bus was too stuffy, so he opened the two top hatches on the upper-level of the bus before we departed. Seeing as we were 13-yearolds, some of the people on the bus decided to stick their heads out of the hatch.

I was sitting in the back with the boys and another girlfriend. Most of the girls at the party were sitting in the front. So the boys were yelling to the girls across the outside of the moving bus.

There was talking and laughing and everyone having a good time.

But then it happened. I witnessed death.

Within a matter of seconds, my friend fell into the bus.

He hit his head on a bridge.

He offered comfort after my son was born, but I did not take it. I thought about it, but I didn’t need him to come around. He must have seen my weakness… sleep deprivation.

He showed up after my daughter was born. His presence felt familiar when I was struggling. I did toy with the idea of inviting him back into my life. I needed something. I needed him.

But it didn’t feel the same. He was more forceful. He was more determined to take over those broken pieces that will never heal. Death will always leave you a little broken as you lose a piece of yourself in that loved one.

From that moment on, I knew my life would forever change. I was no longer the innocent, ignorant child. I had witnessed death.

I recognized some of his tactics. I knew what games he was playing. So he tried harder to get in. Maybe that is why he was so forceful. Maybe that is why he wanted me to join him down that dark and somber path.

I felt guilty. Guilty that I got to live and he had to die.

Guilty that I could breathe and he could not. Guilty that I could eat and he was not able to.

I was on the edge. Standing there. With him. But I didn’t grab his hand. I turned around and walked away. I left him. Again.

A black cloud grew over me. I became broken. And in crept a dark soul through those broken pieces. He wrapped me up and made me feel whole.

He will always offer me comfort. As a wife, mom, entrepreneur. He will always be there, waiting for the right time to come around. I get lonely, and he sees an invitation. I get down on myself, and he comes by to say hello. He knows my weaknesses, so he will always be there. Waiting in the shadows. Watching to make sure that if I need a friend, he can be that friend.

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That dark soul encouraged me to trust him as I walked down a dark, winding path. That path was covered with uncertainty. But with my new friend, I had the confidence to continue to walk. I walked further and further on that somber path. It grew thicker and felt heavier and heavier the longer I walked.

Until one day when I crumbled. My friends discovered

But it is up to me to decide whether or not to grab his hand and walk down that dark path with him again.

For if I go, I may not ever come out again. &

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busy and

RENEWED WORDS & IMAGES BY LINDA JOY NEUFELD

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I GREW UP in a place that I consider one of the most beautiful places on earth.

I think many of us might feel that way about our hometowns. I grew up outside regularly filling my lungs with air that smelled of damp earth, pine needles and crisp, green ferns. If ever I felt the need to be alone, the mountains and the ocean both made themselves available to me in a heartbeat.

Life is a funny thing, isn’t it? Where I find myself now is nothing like where I grew up. Many of you can probably say the same thing. Two years ago, I exchanged mountain ranges for urban skylines and acclimated myself to street lamps, car horns and a life now defined by one word: busy. Never had I needed to schedule my life months in advance. Never had I wanted to meet up with a friend and told them I was free three Tuesdays from now for coffee. Between work, community involvement, catching up on social media and various obligations, we have forgotten our severe need for rest and mind renewal.

I didn’t notice my need for restoration for some time. I don’t mean just sleep, but emotional, spiritual, mental restoration.

The busy lifestyle kind of seems to creep up on us, doesn’t it? Before we know it we find ourselves running on empty, yet somehow still moving our arms and legs.

In a way, it’s easier to be busy—or so we think. If we’re busy, we don’t need to process, we just follow the age-old Nike slogan and “just do it.” But a life on autopilot—where time runs too quickly out of our tightly clenched fists—is no life at all.

It also leads to severe burnout.

Once I noticed this severe lack of rest in my life, it started me thinking: What do I find restful? What restores my mind, my energy, my soul? I know that what was once restful to me—hiking, sitting and reading next to waterfalls or the ocean—is still nestled deeply in my soul. In fact, I heard it said once that man finds renewal by communing dominantly in one of three ways: music, fellowship or nature.

I think it’s safe to say that we all have a mix of those, but if this statement is true, then obviously my most dominant form of renewal is in nature.

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But for those of us who renew our minds by communing in nature, how can we find communion in concrete? How can we modify our means for renewal to fit our ever evolving lives?

It probably goes without saying that the answers to those questions differ for many of us, but after some significant contemplation I’ve figured out some ways that work for me, and I encourage you to think on how this looks for you.

I happen to live on a huge lake, and often like to just sit and watch how the wind tosses the waves around. There is something inexplicably healing about just watching water. No headphones, no cell phone… just me and the glossy waves.

I also began to walk over to the nearby conservatory after church on Sundays. Cities often have some sort of garden or conservatory that is open to the public, so going into a big glass building filled to its limits with greenery has been particularly healing. It’s given me room to think and to process.

Another thing I discovered is Spotify. This sounds hilarious, but truly Spotify has playlists of glorious nature sounds: rain, birds, thunderstorms, ocean waves, and even crackling fires! So when I have been out all day, I will come home, close the blinds and lay down, eyes closed, listening to sounds of nature above the sounds of traffic outside my window.

Friends, I am a firm believer that if we ever hope to do what we do best, our mind must be at peace, our body must be rested, and our spirit must be renewed. Think on the ways that you can make this a reality in your life. I promise you that your time will not be wasted. &

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UNDIAGNOSED FOR OVER 20 YEARS, CHRISTINE’S ANXIETY DISORDER LED TO FEELINGS OF HOPELESSNESS AND FAILURE. BUT WITH THE SUPPORT OF A KIND THERAPIST, SHE LEARNED THAT WE ALL JUST NEED A LITTLE HELP SOMETIMES.

mind peace of

WORDS & IMAGES BY CHRISTINE AMOROSO

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LYING IN BED, no pillow, flat on my back, my hands rest, crossed over my heart. I try to relax and slow my breathing.

It’s the middle of the night, and I am alone. In the darkness, I stare at the ceiling, doing my damnedest to avoid a full blown panic attack. I meditate, I pray, I ask my parents, my angels, to help me through one more miserable night. My mind a vortex of competing thoughts, I struggle to focus on my breath while the messages of doom and hopelessness relentlessly demand my attention. I ignore the old familiar signs, difficulty swallowing, and a racing heart, refusing to believe my anxiety and panic have returned. I conquered those demons, once and for all, with meditation and my yoga practice. Hadn’t I? I beg the hours to pass quickly; knowing the morning light will bring some relief, and wonder how it is I am back to this awful place again.

and medication brought me great relief. I weaned myself off the drugs and anxiety was out of my life for good.

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A few years ago, heartache struck again, and while my anxiety did not return, my sadness seemed extreme. I invested in a lifestyle change which included a creative outlet, regular meditation, and a yoga practice. I worked hard to neither regret the past nor fret about the future. I learned the connection between control, worry, and anxiety.

And for the first time, I believed that I possessed the strength to alter my thoughts and relieve anxiety should it return. The circumstances of my life had not changed, but my reaction to them had. I felt invincible...for a while.

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It began in my early twenties; long before I knew the episodes of shortness of breath and the uneasiness of sleepless nights were an actual disorder. A diagnosis did not come until my early forties. The loss of my parents, followed by a dramatic break up intensified my symptoms. I found it nearly impossible to function. Driving was a white knuckling experience as I fought the urge to flee my car in heavy traffic.

I avoided elevators, crowded places, and did not fly for years.

I dodged social situations, turning down invitations; eating and drinking heightened my anxiety. Still, I worked each day without incident. Distracted by the demands of my daily schedule, I was able to mask my terrible weakness.

Some friends and family knew of course, but few had witnessed an attack. Too embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state and too proud to ask for help, my confidants were very few. When I finally gathered the courage to seek the help of my long time physician, I was humiliated. I sat bawling in the exam room, asking desperately for immediate relief, medication, anything. He looked at me as though I was crazy. I felt crazy. He offered me nothing, mumbled something about not knowing what I needed.

In late summer my son was arrested for addiction related crimes. My inability to save him, mother’s guilt, and the associated sadness and pain were unbearable. Night after night, I mediated, breathed deeply and prayed, doing my best to ward off my old enemy.

After an embarrassing trip to urgent care to rule out my ridiculous self-diagnoses of heart, breathing, and throat ailments, I had to succumb to facing my anxiety again. The attending physician referred me to a new doctor, a young man. She described him as kind and that was all I needed to hear.

He smiled warmly as he shook my hand. I held back tears as I shared my history with anxiety. He quietly listened. I told him of the success I had with my yoga and meditation practice, and exercise. He complimented me on doing all the right things and suggested I go back into therapy. I agreed.

I told him I didn’t want to take medication, that I felt like a failure. I shook my head and said I shouldn’t need it. And he replied, “It’s okay. You just need it for now. You’ll be fine in no time. You need a little help.”

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I sought therapy next, a kind gentleman, specializing in anxiety disorders. He made me work hard, tell the truth, and connected me with a doctor who prescribed medication for both immediate relief and daily use. I kept this information private as many people I knew believed anxiety was “all in the head”, a weakness to overcome. Others believed the disorder could be handled homeopathically; drugs were a sellout to big pharma, another sign of weakness. I can’t say I completely disagreed. During this time I often felt pathetic and small. However, over time, the combination of therapy

I continue to meditate every day. I do my best to practice yoga off the mat as well as on. I take a small pill every morning and remind myself that I just need it for now. With a clear head, I am able to rationalize my feelings, accept my shortcomings without shame, and be proud of the significant changes I have made in my life. I seek kindness, compassion, and judgement free zones to complement my life.

And for those who insist that anxiety is all in the head, I guess today I would say, yes, yes it is. . . . and that’s okay. I’m okay too. &

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beautiful perspectives

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HOW FASCINATING IT is to comprehend the depths, valleys, and roadblocks of the mind. Anatomically speaking, the brain is structured in intricate and fascinating ways, giving us the capability to think, process, and relate to others. Physiologically speaking, the processes of neurons firing and lasting connections being made are detailed and calculated. Emotionally speaking, our minds are the most powerful tool we have available to us. As a result, we are able to determine our worldview, feel the deep connections of relationships, and persevere in times of hardship. Although beautifully wired and intricately created, our minds can become a breeding ground for anxiety and stress in the presence of the unknown.The question I want to ask is this: What does it mean to be a woman who is confident in her questioning and supportive of others even in times of uncertainty?

It is far too easy to become quickly beaten down, drowning under our to do lists, friendships, romantic relationships, and family stresses. It isn’t hard to give so much of ourselves away in the process of navigating the balancing act that is daily life. So often it seems that at the end of the day we feel depleted of energy, positivity, and healthy perspective. This is prime territory for anxieties and insecurities to creep in. In my experience, it is in times of exhaustion that I pause to rest and recollect, but rest ushers in worry. I find it so challenging to truly stop and be still. It can so easily feel like there is no escape from the thousands of things running through my mind at every waking moment. When I first came to the realization that this wasn’t a healthy way to live, my first goal was to turn those thoughts off, but I quickly realized how ineffective that plan was. I came to the realization that I didn't need to turn those thoughts off, I needed to turn them around. What I needed was perspective and a hefty dose of determination.

Quite frankly, there isn’t a good place to start. We just have to jump in.

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WORDS & IMAGES BY DEVON WHITE

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE As a woman with aspirations to achieve, succeed, and support those in my immediate and far reaching community, I set out to ask myself how I can grab hold of those quickly approaching worries, and seek to be a healthier person; one who is in fearless pursuit of forming compassionate relationships. After months of giving myself frequent pep talks, seeking validation from others and being constantly frustrated with myself, I came to some solutions that helped me put my anxieties to rest. I started treating myself like I would treat a close friend. I clung to my faith in a way I hadn’t in a very long time and I learned to believe in my strengths, acknowledge my weaknesses, and I refused to back down to a challenge. I learned what it means to be okay with not being okay, while wanting to make a change.

The things that we mentally give power to are the same thoughts that translate into action, leaving us feeling either empowered or the very opposite. We have control over the things that take up mental capacity. We are able to look our fears in the face and tell them that we are the ones in charge. It is certainly not an easy task, but it is possible and trust me it is worth it. That mindset switch is change enough to turn our inward focus out and allow healthy perspectives and mental clarity to fill a space once jam packed with negative thinking.

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I have received the most beautiful gift from putting this into action. I have come to understand what it means to be confident in my questioning. I have learned that you don’t have to have everything perfectly together in order to carry yourself with confidence. In fact, I have found that the more comfortable I am in admitting my weaknesses, the more confident in my strengths I become.

Processing what it means to be confident, respected, and mentally healthy is an overwhelming task. It often feels like there is no good place to start and I think there is truth to that. Quite frankly, there isn’t a good place to start. We just have to jump in.

There is a door to endless possibility in embracing uncertainties. There is a window to self confidence in embracing mental health. There is beauty in the broken and redemption in the struggles. All we need is a little bit of perspective and a whole lot of determination. &

VOLUME II | 33

from

ANGELA to

MASON coming out saved me from myself WORDS BY MASON AID

THERE ARE EITHER no details or only details when I go back to the dark years. Everything is a blur surrounded by pinpoints of brilliance. The copies of Monet’s Water Lilies on the walls of the psych ward. The taste of chicken strips. The fear in my parents’ eyes. It all blurs together yet all stands out so glaringly. A startling reminder of where I have been and I run from it in fear, yet what I need to do is embrace it. And so I have started to embrace the dark years. Mason is now holding Angela’s hand and bringing the two together into one unit.

I live a life separated into two different eras. There is Angela and then there is Mason. I used to be Angela. I was controlled by fear. Fear of who I was. Fear of this illness. Fear of becoming nothing. Fear of becoming something. Fear of going to hell. Fear of continuing to live a life that felt like hell.

I hated myself because the church taught me how. I learned at a young age to use the most basic tenets of evangelical Christianity against myself. Bible verses meant to speak of the freedom we receive because of the sacrifice of Jesus read to me like a giant guilt trip-- God standing on high telling me how fucked up I am. “You’re lucky you have me here watching out for you, ya little shit,” Jesus said in the book of Angela chapter 1 verse 1.

I could sense God rolling his eyes every time I committed even the most minor of sins. I punished myself even as

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a child for minor infractions. I had to be perfect like Christ was perfect (Matthew 5:48). I could not mess up.

If I messed up everyone would hate me and I would go to hell.

I would go to hell.

I was going to hell.

I was living in hell.

Seven years of darkness fell upon the life of Angela.

Seven years of hospitalizations for self harm, delusions, and paranoia. Seven years of medication and therapy.

Seven years of self hatred. Seven years of shame.

Jesus may have died for the atonement of all sins. But in evangelical Christianity all sins are not created equal.

THE FIRST TIME The first time I realized I had a crush on someone, a REAL crush, one with sexual feelings attached, I was 19.

She was beautiful and all I wanted to do was lie in bed and hold her.

I had just gotten out of the hospital for self harm and would find myself inpatient once again a mere six months later. Probably due in no small part to the beginnings of that realization about myself which would change everything. ›››

THERE WAS A PART OF MYSELF SO ENTRENCHED IN SELF IMPOSED HOMOPHOBIA WHICH FOUND IT HARD TO BELIEVE ANYONE COULD LOVE ME AFTER KNOWING I LIKE GIRLS.

VOLUME II | 35

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW? I was straight. Totally straight.

I was making out with my (female) best friend in our dorm room. Straight.

I laughed along, relieved with the easy going attitude and nonplussed nature of the coming out.

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I was back in the hospital for self harm.

I was done.

I was applying for disability back home on the farm. My future was painted to be a rosy picture of a group home with maybe a part time job if I could get my shit together enough.

Something clicked and I found hope again. Maybe it was spring, maybe it was a realization that my life was not going where I wanted it to. I got a job making pizza in a gas station near home. I applied to attend the University of Missouri.

I got in, I got a dorm room, this shit was happening.

Most people were not shocked.

I was a mess. I once again fell into the darkness and lost myself at the same time I started to find myself.

I put myself in the hospital in the fall after I came out to most of the people who mattered to me. I knew I would keep hurting myself if something didn’t change. So I walked behind the locked doors and gave up my freedom for a week. They would wake us at 5 am for blood draws.

Our food was monitored, our activities were monitored.

Everything was monitored.

There was a girl there coming down off of meth. Apparently the withdrawal is a bitch and bipolar disorder with meth use is not a smart combination. She sat too close to me and told me a tattoo on my foot would be hot. I was terrified.

THE NEXT CHAPTER This is where Angela starts to turn into Mason. This is where I go from being one person to another. This is where the change begins.

I flunked out of college that semester. I got an F in every class I was in and was told I could not come back without raising my GPA elsewhere first. I got a job working in a textbook warehouse and was out to everyone there from the start.

I came to the University of Missouri and noticed the presence of LGBT people. People who looked at me in a way no one else did. Like I was in on the secret. Except I was convinced I was not a part of the secret.

I was excommunicated from the church I was attending about a year after I started coming out. More for being an asshole struggling with mental health issues than being gay, or maybe that’s just what I choose to believe.

I got catcalled by boys and felt nothing. I got winked at by girls and melted into the floor.

I decided I had to address this whole “I like girls” thing.

Slowly but surely things got better. I started to learn more about gender identity and started going by my last name.

Angela slowly became Mason and Mason became a whole person.

I came out to a professor I was close to and was met with support and encouragement. There was a part of myself so entrenched in self imposed homophobia which found it hard to believe anyone could love me after knowing I like girls.

I finished my college degree. I met an amazing woman and got married; now we’re having our first child together. I found faith again, although drastically altered by years and experience, but I can now enter a church without having a panic attack.

I came out to my cousin whose response was simply, “ah, so you’re the gay family member.” She said it in jest and

Angela is gone, but I will never forget her. &

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VOLUME II | 37

i miss my mom WORDS BY NANCYJO RONGNER

LOSING A PARENT IS NEVER EASY. WHEN IT HAPPENED TO NJ, SHE BECAME PARALYZED WITH GRIEF, THINKING OF THE MILESTONES THAT HER MOTHER WOULD NEVER SEE HER ACCOMPLISH. BUT SHE BECAME DETERMINED TO LIVE UP TO AND SHARE HER MOTHER’S LEGACY WITH THOSE SHE LOVES, ESPECIALLY HER CHILDREN.

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I SAT IN the fitting room with tears rolling down my eyes. I wanted to scream at her next door, “You should be so lucky to have her! I can’t believe that you’re treating your mom so terribly. My mom is dead. I would give ANYTHING to get to shop with her today. I can’t believe you’d say such mean things to your mom. Appreciate her while she’s here! ”

Her employees are still loyal to her to this day, cheering me on as life moves forward without her. They came to my wedding and sent gifts when my babies were born. A piece of her still lives because of their relationship with me.

One of the biggest lessons I learned from experiencing the loss of my mom was let the people who love you continue to love you.

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But instead, I wiped the tears from my eyes, decided the dress looked great without consulting my mom and left the dressing room to pay for it.

Living without my mom has gotten easier and different as time goes on. I am no longer paralyzed by the physical grief that the first weeks after her death brought me and since it’s been a decade without her, I’m able to manage the emotional side too. I still grieve, often it comes in waves.

It happens, I let it wash over me and then move forward with life.

Not long after she opened her bar, there was a large fire in the middle of the night on her block. She rushed down, opened up, and fired up the coffee pot. It was a four alarm fire and many fire departments from neighboring towns were called in to help keep the blaze from destroying an entire city block. There was nothing in it for her, many tried to pay her and she refused.

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Her death came as shock… a 3:00 am phone call, purchase a plane ticket to head home and plan everything on autopilot kind of shock. She was an alcoholic who was overcome by the disease. The autopsy revealed her cause of death to be alcohol poisoning.

She was “gone” in a lot of ways before she died. For about three years, she was there but not available to me the same way she was before alcoholism, but that’s what the disease does. However, she wasn’t always an alcoholic and we had at least 20 great years together before our lives took a turn.

When I look back on those years with my mom, I remember so many great times together, valuable lessons and lots of character development. And I’m so thankful for that, those are the pieces of her I carry with me today.

It doesn’t surprise me that I’ve followed in my mother’s footsteps of finding a way to raise babies and make a living by serving my community. I am the founder of a hyper local blog where people’s lives are made easier because I equip them with ways to enjoy the area I live in with their family.

I wish with my whole heart that my mom was here to be a grandmother to my children. There are pieces of her that are being passed on to them - her love of baseball, her spirit of adventure and the idea that above all else everyone can make an impact right where they live, in their community.

And those ideas? That’s a legacy worth leaving. &

My mom died before I got comfortable in my own skin. I was still a baby at just 23 years old…..Before I became a bride, a wife, and a mother. I never got to really enjoy an adult child to mother relationship with her. After she died, I grew into a person I love being, who is steady and sure of herself. I wish I could tell her that the way she wrote the story of her life inspired me to write a similar one.

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My mom spent a lot of years living out motherhood and making business happen. First, she owned a home-based daycare and then a bar in my small town.

I learned to love community because I watched my mom love hers. Her bar wasn’t just a place where people went to drink their problems away. It was where friends gathered to sing karaoke, watch the big game or play cards. It was where people gathered after the Friday night football game, everyone knew your name and was glad to see you. It was the place people stopped by after they got married to grab a drink before their reception. It was the hub of community in my hometown, Small Town USA, population 2,500.

experiencing the loss of my mom was let the people who love you continue to love you.

ILLUSTRATION BY JESSIE LEIBER 40 | 2017 COLLECTION

TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND LET OUT ALL THE STRESS. YOU DESERVE TO BE OKAY.

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healing the mind FINDING PEACE AFTER OVERCOMING SEXUAL ABUSE

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“It all begins and ends in your mind.

What you give power to, has power over you, if you allow it.”

-Leon Brown AT 18, MOST girls are preparing to begin fall semester at college, starting their first job and grasping the possibility of the future. I was all these things on the surface, and below I was struggling with the effects of sexual abuse that had taken place throughout my childhood. It was the morning of my first day, at my first job, working at a local grocery store chain. My mom entered my room to tell me that my dad’s father had passed away in his sleep earlier that morning. He was 93 years old. This is it, this is the moment that would alter the focus of my entire young adult life.

In the following weeks after his burial, I had become unbearable to be around in any social form. I knew it, my family knew it, and yet I could not admit to myself, let alone anyone else, the true cause of my pain. It’s a lonely place to be, trapped in your mind with no outlet or release.

Hearing the news of my paternal grandfather’s death had unlocked something that had long been protected by my mind. I found myself recalling events of sexual abuse, committed by my Grandfather, from the age range of two to seven years old. When I confessed this to my mother, weeks after his passing, she broke down. She herself, is a survivor of sexual abuse.

Though at the time I understood her response, it gave me no relief. I had never felt so alone in all my life.

WORDS BY ASHLEY AVINA

It became a daily struggle to attend classes and work. I couldn’t look at myself anymore, all I saw was his face looking back at me. I hid myself away from the world, everyone and everything were too bright for the shadows existing inside my mind. This continued for months, the seclusion and pain becoming more intolerable.

I eventually succumbed to an encompassing numbness that spread like a disease through my psyche. I existed as a shell among the living, I could see no end, no way of recovery. My mind, a part of me I had cherished, so powerful and steadfast, felt like a hollow darkness filled with memories of the abuse. At 18, I debated taking my own life, but something I did not understand at the time, always stopped me from following through. I knew I could not continue this way forever, a part of my life would have to give. ›››

VOLUME II | 43

Six months later, I was home alone one night organizing my bookshelf when an abusive memory surged through my reverie like a bolt, hitting the depth of my senses. As I was gasping for breath clutching my chest, I thought I was having a heart attack, I thought I was going to die, in my room...alone. In that moment, I knew I wanted to live, I had courage left in my heart fighting its way through my mind. As the memory still plunged through my brain, I told myself, “I am okay.

You are safe. You are okay. You are here.” I said this as a mantra, repeating over and over, willing myself to control my response to my own mind. For the first time I saw a shred of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. I had won a small battle in a long journey to acceptance and recovery. What had always stopped me from taking my own life, was myself. In my heart I knew I wanted to live, and I had needed an experience that could remind me of that fact.

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I made slow changes that led to larger ones - new job, new school and everyday the memories came, I would repeat to myself, “I am okay.

You are safe. You are okay. You are here.” I realized in the coming months that I could not change what happened to me, but I could choose how I would let it influence the rest of my life. It was in my power to gain control of how my mind reacted to the abuse. I could allow my mind to be subdued by the abuse, or permit it to be my solace and pillar of strength.

The following years were filled with good days and bad, personal and professional setbacks. And every instance I was emotionally vulnerable was an opportunity for the helplessness to return. With time, it became easier as I began to heal and grow. There were days I would scream out loud, “WHY?!”, and days I was thankful because the abuse allocated me with the ability to understand someone else’s pain, in a manner only few could comprehend. The memories of my sexual abuse became fewer and farther in between, and my life continued with a positive outlook for the future.

The next 10 years brought healing and forgiveness, as well as a happy marriage and a life I love to share with those close to me. I did not forgive my Grandfather for him, or for any deity, I forgave him for myself and for the love of life. I will never say forgive the abuser because they deserve it, I will say to survivors, forgive them because you deserve the release and peace of letting go. My mind had come full circle, it was old friends reuniting after years of someone coming in between us.

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The mind is powerful, but it is yours to choose how it will burden or strengthen you, how you as a person allow the mind to break you in dark moments, or choose to find heart and healing from it. To the survivors of sexual abuse, and their loved ones, know you are not alone, this is something that will be part of you, but it in no way needs to define you. You did not have the ability to stop what was done to you, but you have the power to choose how you overcome. & “You can chain me, You can torture me, You can even destroy this body, But you will never imprison my Mind.

-Gandhi

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FULL ISSUE You are safe.

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VOLUME II | 45

THE OTHER SIDE

OF SUICIDE

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ON OCTOBER 8, 2016, my life abruptly changed.

The man I’d loved for more than 15 years took his own life. I was shocked, devastated, and lost in a sea of emotions while simultaneously trying to collect myself enough to face my two small boys, who were nine months and three years old. It was a moment that induced a fog that I had never experienced before. I have heard it described as “widow brain” but it was much more than that. It was the detachment and numbness that happened while trying to process my new reality, but it was also all the sadness, confusion, anger, and hurt that came with it.

It took me a long time to admit that there was a small portion of relief mixed in with the rest of my emotions.

Not that I wanted or imagined it would ever happen; but, the months, weeks, and days leading up to his death were painful, complicated, and frustrating.

There was a spiral happening, in big and little ways, leading up to his final hours and we, as a family, lived in its destruction. I remember telling our therapist, my husband’s family, and some of my close friends that he was unraveling; a dissolution that I couldn’t put into words or pinpoint with specific actions or events, but more of a feeling.

One of the questions that I often get is, “Did you see it coming?” I cannot help but get frustrated when I hear it because suicide is so misunderstood. Of course I did not see it coming! In hindsight, and with the perspective of his final choice, there were plenty of signs but none were blatant or definitive. Many could be chalked up to having a newborn in the household, a demanding job, financial stress…and the list goes on.

So I find myself defensive and thinking “Yeah, I saw it coming, knew he was going to do it, gave him the gun, and kissed my entire life goodbye.”

Really?!?

My husband had struggled with alcoholism and drug use for most of his adult life, but it seemed (from the outside) like his issues were under control. Again, it wasn’t big things that brought on the unraveling feeling; he held a job, provided for our family, and interacted with his friends and family. But upon his death, I learned secrets he had been keeping from me, which may have been the cause of my uneasiness.

SUICIDE STATISTICS

• Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S.

• Each year, 44,193 Americans die by suicide

• For every 1 suicide, there are 25 attempts.

• On average, there are 121 suicides per day in the U.S.

• Firearms account for almost 50% of all suicides.

• Men die by suicide 3x more often than women.

• White males accounted for 7 out of 10 suicides in 2015.

• The rate of suicide is highest •

in middle age - white men in particular.

An American dies by suicide every 12.3 minutes.

If you need help, please call National Suicide Prevention Line: 1-800-2738255 Statistics from American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

WORDS BY CHERYL SHEIK // IMAGES BY JAMIE BRINKMAN

Shortly after the birth of our second son, my husband had a panic attack and went to the hospital. While there, he was prescribed his first anti-anxiety medication. He did not tell me about the prescription and therefore I didn’t correlate the beginning of the spiral with him taking the medication. The spiral continued with rapid job changing, erratic buying and selling behavior, mood swings, and unobtainable demands. ››› VOLUME II | 47

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THROUGH MY EXPERIENCE, I HAVE A RENEWED COMMITMENT TO SHOW GRACE AND LOVE TO THOSE AROUND ME.

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW?

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE As things became more unstable, I made the very difficult decision to move out for awhile. During this time we worked hard on our marriage and it seemed like he was trying hard to work on his own issues. I could tell he wanted things to be different, but wasn’t quite sure how to make that happen.

Then, three weeks before his death, he went back to his doctor and was prescribed three different anxiety medications and a sleeping medication. I truly believe that was the beginning of the end. He was immediately a different person afterward, he seemed “high” when I saw him, and I assumed he had begun using drugs or drinking again. Sadly, he kept the medications secret from me, and I was left grappling with my confusion. I knew he was depressed about our living situation, that he wanted his life back the way it was before; but I also had to listen to my gut.

As sad as it was, he was unstable.

Do I feel responsible for his death? No. Do I wish I could have done more to help him? Yes. Am I deeply saddened by the emotions he must have felt leading up to his final choice? Yes.

I am not an expert on the subject of suicide, just a wife and mom who was changed forever because of it. I find, through talking with others who have experienced this kind of loss, that there seems to be a strong correlation between suicide and shame.

There are some who make the choice to end their lives due to a long battle with mental illness (often fraught with shame). But others are new to dealing with mental illness and may not know it’s happening to them or their loved ones. Regardless of whether it's a new struggle or an old one, many feel ashamed of the choices they have made… for the way they are feeling, for who they are, for letting down their families, and for not being able to control their mental stability. And then they end their lives and the shame continues on with the survivors; as there is a stigma attached to suicide deaths that cannot be ignored.

I cannot change the outcome for my husband.

But during this journey I have learned a lot about grace. Grace for myself, grace for my husband and his decision, and grace for those who don’t know what to say, what to ask, or what to do. Through my experience, I have a renewed commitment to show grace and love to those around me. To live in the “mess” with others and to really listen when they are hurting. Whether the individual I am with is the one struggling or their friend or family member, they need more understanding and love and less judgement and shame from us. Really, we all could do with a little more of that. &

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I hate that he felt so alone, unworthy, and ashamed.

I hate that there are many more families living in this spiral every day with so little support. It truly is miserable for the person suffering AND for the families living through it with them. Many of these families are struggling in private; their lives look “normal” to someone looking in from the outside, yet they are simply managing the pain and are unsure where to turn.

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AUTHENTICALLY

beautiful

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WORDS BY ANNA HEFFINGTON // IMAGES BY SAVANNAH BANTON

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LIFE IS

TRULY

TOO

WONDERFUL TO

SPEND IT

WISHING TO BE

SOMEONE ELSE

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THE WIND BLOWS softly through her hair while the sun casts its soft rays across her bare shoulders. Wrapping her arms around herself, she breathes.

Slowly and deeply. The world around her clamors but her heart is still, she lets herself rest, soaking in the beauty she is finally able to see around her.

How far she has come; she’s learned to love herself without hesitation and comparison, without guilt or analyzation, and that is what has made her feel truly alive.

we aren’t good enough just as we are that authenticity isn’t beautiful- that we should hide our flaws and cover our imperfections? Because I know my worth is found in Christ and that is who I should look to, to be grounded.

Although authenticity is something I greatly admire in people, I struggle to find it within myself. It’s something I have to work at, because it’s not easy to be transparent, and I want to be able to say “I did the hard thing”.

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW?

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE Do you look in the mirror completely satisfied with what you see each day?

Have you flipped through someone’s Instagram feed recently not once feeling inferior to the perfect life they seem to live?

Or are you like me. Human - and you’ve gotten stuck in a horrible game of comparison; trying so hard to fit into the world’s idea of “beautiful” that every day you’re running around putting on different masks. You look to other people for confirmation of your worth and for assurance that you’re doing it right. The kind words people say stick to you, and the harsh words they say stick even harder. They embed into your very soul. Whispering to you late at night and attacking you before you get a chance to breathe each morning, and eventually you let them define you.

Staying in a place of comparison is so dangerous. When comparison begins, I begin to lose sight of any truth or beauty within me. There are days when I feel strong enough to fight back, but some days I just give up, because, let’s be honest, giving up is much easier. I’m learning how to love and be patient with myself, learning resilience by failing, determination through pain, and opportunities through risks. &&&

Life is truly too wonderful to spend wishing to be someone else. It’s full of adventures waiting to be had, of new people to meet and inspire, of stars to gaze at and dreams to chase; of cities to explore, friends to laugh with, things to create and work to do. It’s meant to be lived fully and fearlessly authentically.

Fearless of what people think or say about you, fearless of the places your life will take you and the things you’ll encounter. Fearless of the world’s cruel words and unrealistic expectations of beauty and the mind games that it makes us play.

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I’ve been there; compared myself more times that I’d like to admit; compared achievements, looks, and experiences to everyone around me only to feel like a failure. Only to feel like what I have to offer is so below what everyone else has…that I’m ordinary. Ordinary. A word that settles on my skin, and sits there forcing itself deeper and deeper.

My worse fear is being ordinary, yet somehow I’m allowing myself to believe that’s what I am. Often times I wonder what has made us feel like we can’t just be ourselves. Who told us

Who we are without any reshaping or changing up is beautiful; more than that, it’s the flaws that make us beautiful. Different is good, and the world doesn’t get to define you. You are meant to be unique, made to embrace your story just how it is. Imperfect, but so, so beautiful. &

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N A F O H T L A E H L A R T U N E E N M E R P E R T N E WORDS BY SARAH HARTLEY

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HOW OFTEN DO we really get a full picture of someone? Through the Instagram-shielded lens of our world, lives look more put together, feelings remain dormant, mistakes are hidden down in the depths.

We portray the best image of ourselves, the one that makes it seem as if we're invincible, that makes us feel better about the lives that we're living.

I, for one, am tired. I'm tired of trying to be my best self at all times. I'm tired of pretending I don't go to bed with zit cream all over my face, that I don't occasionally break down in tears for seemingly no reason, that I don't constantly question if I'm doing the right thing in this life, that my toddler doesn't throw massive tantrums at times, that I can't acknowledge that there are many days where I'm just sad.

Because the truth is, those are my realities.

LIFE OF AN ENTREPRENEUR When I started this magazine, I had no experience in the industry, no real idea of what it took to run a business. I have a Master’s in Business, but even that didn’t prepare me for the mental aspect of being an entrepreneur.

The loneliness can be overwhelming. The financial strain crumbling. The time away from your family is heartbreaking. Running a business is the toughest thing I’ve ever done. At least once a month I ask myself why I got into this in the first place. At least once a month I want to quit. At least once a month my day ends in tears struggling to pick myself back up.

It was only after talking with other entrepreneurs that I learned just how common this feeling is. And yet we view those who have started a business as superhuman creatures. We compare our hard days to their very best days. We see their successes but not their struggles.

But yet, according to Bloomberg, in the first eighteen months of business, 8 out of 10 businesses will fail.

80% of people who start a dream career will soon have their dreams crushed. And for some, this sudden downturn is what will break a person.

SMILING DEPRESSION I recently heard of an issue called "smiling depression".

Something about it urged me to learn more. When reading through it I began to really understand it and realized that at times, that is where I have found myself.

You see, I've gone through most of my life with a smile on my face. Masking any pain, any frustrations, and any self-doubt. Putting a smile on my face told the world that I was fine and that my life was floating perfectly by.

But oftentimes, it wasn't.

And it still isn't.

I have a great life. I do. And I appreciate what I do have - a loving husband, a healthy toddler, a great roof over my head, a job working for good people, and friends that are always so supportive. But in the past when I've talked about feeling low, feeling sad, there is this backlash that comes with it. The feeling of "You don't understand how good you've got it".

But I do. I understand.

But does that mean that just because on the outside I'm smiling it means on the inside I can't feel sad and hurt and betrayed and lonely and frustrated and lost?

Does it mean that the picture of a perfect life does not afford me the luxury to say that sometimes things go wrong?

The problem with feeling hidden all the time is that at some point things feel as if they're pushing against a wall. And when the dam breaks, there is no way to stop it. Feelings rush out on a tidal wave of sadness, covering every surface available until things feel so heavy that you're drowning.

And at those times, where can you turn? To the people that believe your life is too good to have problems? So instead, you go back to internalizing. You rebuild the dam, piece by piece, but this time things are a little more cracked and jagged. But you hope it holds. You cross your fingers and stay hidden in the depths. And you put a smile on your face and keep going. &

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I SPENT SOME TIME TALKING TO OTHER ENTREPRENEURS ABOUT HOW THEIR BATTLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH HAS AFFECTED THEIR BUSINESS.

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW? I’ve been battling anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember. When I left my job and decided to start my own business, one of the main “pros” was that I’d be able to manage my illnesses better.

My biggest obstacle has been accepting that my new path is where I'm supposed to be right now.

I didn't necessarily choose the path of work from home - rather it chose me through a series of consequences that make working outside of the home challenging. My main goal in life was always to be a teacher. I earned scholarships so that I could go to college and I worked hard to find a job that I loved. Then, I met my husband, fell in love, and ended up moving across the country (not once, but twice) because of military orders. A teaching certificate isn't easy to switch from state to state and other circumstances (such as timing and availability of jobs) also get in the way every time we move.

Somewhere in there, I started on the journey of monetizing my blog (which started as a hobby) and I'm now actively pursuing that because it seems to be the best option for our lifestyle at the moment.

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE

We launched our website on September 1 and I thought I was ready. I wasn’t. The site was beautiful, we received many compliments, but I wasn’t in a place where I could manage my mental health and run a new business. Things progressively got worse and finally after two breakdowns I decided it was time to focus on my health only.

This was not an easy decision to make as I am not good at asking for help. With the support of my fiancé and family and friends I voluntarily admitted myself into an outpatient program. During this time I completely put my business on the back burner.

How could I be the business woman I’ve always dreamed of if I couldn’t even take care of myself ?

In the beginning, I struggled with moving out of the field that I was most comfortable with. I had worked so hard to get there and I felt like I was letting myself (and others) down. I've slowly come to realize that life is all about perspective and flexibility though. I can sit here and dwell on the things that haven't worked out or I can look to the future and focus on the possibilities ahead of me. I've chosen to do the latter. Every time I find myself falling into a "woe is me" rut, I try my best to change my perspective through lists, conversation, and sometimes even blogging.

For me, mental health is the foundation of my business. There is no separation of personal and professional when it comes to my headspace. If my depression is acting up, or my anxiety is beginning to flare, I begin to feel like I'm losing everything I have built. Mindset work is critical in managing my depression and anxiety around my business.

Coupling daily mindset work with regular visits to a therapist, and the correct prescription antidepressants has been instrumental in maintaining a healthy attitude towards my business. This allows me to manage and minimize the Comparison Goblin in my head. Her name is Sheila and I'm getting real sick of her B.S. One more thing, self-care seems to be a fairly common buzzword lately; but I cannot stress the importance of conscious and consistent self-care routines. Self-care is not laziness or carelessness, it is an integral part of who we are as human beings and entrepreneurs. Self-care is to our souls what health-care is to our bodies.

Without self-care, we crumble, and we are of no use to anyone; least of all our business. Take care of your self and your soul, and your business will thrive. Guaranteed.

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This was the best decision I have ever made. While my mental health battle is not over, I feel better, healthy, and ready to take on the business world ahead of me.

- BRITTANY LOCKWOOD collectivelybee.com

- PAMELA HODGES hodgepodgemoments.com 56 | 2017 COLLECTION

- MEGAN KUBASCH shieldsistersinitiative.com

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW? I’ve often heard that behind the brightest smile, lies the greatest pain. As someone with severe clinical depression, anxiety, and PTSD I find this statement to be startlingly accurate.

To be fair, the first years I've been running PaperFinch Design have also been full of general life craziness. I lost a parent, saw another one battle (and beat!) breast cancer, went through multiple rounds of IVF and adopted a baby. And I have anxiety.

So yes, there have been so, so (SO) many moments where life and work just felt like too much. I wondered if I should just keep going...or throw in the towel.

Opening a private counseling practice and membership site for women with anxiety was particularly close to my heart because I’ve suffered with overwhelming worry since childhood.

As a kid, I remember living in dread that my teachers would find fault with my work, or that my parents would be disappointed in me. I laid awake at night constantly wondering, “What if...?”

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE

Last year, I made the decision to stop taking the anti-depressant that made me functional, happy, and successful. I was tired of the stigma. Surely, I didn’t need a pill to be “normal”. I weaned off slowly with the help of my doctor. Within weeks, I knew something was gravely wrong. I couldn’t sleep, or eat. I would cry easily, and I lost 36 lbs. in a matter of two months. My hair was falling out. My doctor immediately put me back on my medication, but it was too late. My body was rejecting it. I couldn’t work, and my husband and children were suffering.

The depression was all-consuming. I just knew that I was going to die.

For years, I had hidden the “dirty little secret” that is mental illness. I couldn’t possibly talk about what was really going on. Diabetes, cancer, broken legs - those are all acceptable. Depression is never to be discussed. Well-meaning people tell you in hushed voices about so-andso who takes medication or goes to counseling and they cluck their tongues in pity. So, you smile. You pretend to have it all together. Until you don’t.

So I tried really hard to pour that frazzled energy into my work. I design a lot of inspirational and uplifting pieces of art, along with my geographic designs that PaperFinch is becoming known for, in the hopes that I can possibly help someone else get through a tough time as well.

And as an entrepreneur and solo boss lady who deals with anxiety, I'm (slowly) learning when to just take a break. Whether it's just a short walk or actually closing up shop for a couple of weeks while I regroup, I've learned that my customers and my health will be the better for it. And I usually come back fresh and full of ideas!

It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized that not everyone lives with that kind of worry, and I needed some additional support. Through working with an incredible therapist in graduate school, I realized I could overcome my anxiety with self-care: exercising, eating right, journaling, spending time with friends, and saying “no” to commitments that overwhelm me. As I successfully completed therapy, my counselor suggested I investigate becoming a therapist myself. Once I learned more about the career, I was hooked!

Years later, it’s my greatest joy to have a woman pour her heart out to me about her stress. I light up when they ask me, “Am I going crazy? Will I make it through this?” because I love giving these women the hope I’ve found. I’ve found a great source of strength in being able to share my research with other women to help them enjoy a better life.

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It has been 8 months since I have stabilized on a medication. My hair is growing back. My business is once again successful. My children have their mother back, and my husband recognizes me again. I no longer smile to hide the pain. I smile because I am whole again.

amy braswell paperfinchdesign.etsy.com

-

CELESTE COFFMAN quietmindcollective.com

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CHRISTA LINDHARDT girlygirllash.com

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IT’S HARDLY NOTICE 58 | 2017 COLLECTION

Y EABLE

INTERVIEW BY MIA SUTTON // IMAGES BY JOHN WILLIAM KEEDY

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WHEN WE FIRST CAME ACROSS JOHN WILLIAM KEEDY’S PHOTO SERIES “IT’S HARDLY NOTICEABLE” WE WERE BLOWN AWAY BY THE CREATIVITY OF THE IMAGES. BUT IN LOOKING CLOSER, THE RAWNESS, PAIN AND HONESTY CREATED STRUCK A CHORD WITH US. LEARNING THAT THE PHOTO SERIES WAS ALL ABOUT DEALING WITH MENTAL HEALTH AND ANXIETY, WE KNEW HIS PHOTOS WOULD SERVE AS A LANDING POINT FOR ALL OF THOSE OUT THERE SUFFERING SILENTLY.

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW?

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE TELL US A BIT ABOUT YOUR BACKGROUND AND HOW YOU BECAME INTERESTED IN PHOTOGRAPHY.

Originally from San Antonio, Texas, I received a Bachelors of Arts in Studio Art and a Bachelors of Arts in Psychology from Trinity University and a Masters of Fine Art in Imaging Arts from the Rochester Institute of Technology. My father is a photographer, so growing up creating images in his darkroom in the garage became a daily habit, and early on I began to use photography as a way of exploring ideas that interested me, including explorations of self identity.

amount from my own experiences, though often they are pushed to an extreme or transformed in some way. The character is not directly me, though in a number of very real ways, I based the character on myself. Years ago I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, which, coupled with my undergraduate study in psychology, has greatly influenced my art. The series did not start with a therapeutic purpose, but in creating the images I've found a means to indulge my own anxieties in a more controlled way than I had before. The images in which the character (played by me) is shown establish the importance of the performative nature of the work, while at the same time, allow me the opportunity to explore to what degree these are images of a character, and to what degree these are images of myself and my own anxieties.

This perspective provides me distance from which I can more clearly and safely examine my own self-identity, replete with anxieties. ›››

WE OFFER PRINT ISSUES, DIGITAL ISSUES, AND PLENTY OF SUBSCRIPTION OPTIONS! YOUR PHOTO SERIES, IT'S HARDLY NOTICEABLE, EXPLORES LIVING WITH AN ANXIETY-BASED MENTAL ILLNESS. CAN YOU TELL US WHY YOU DECIDED TO CREATE THIS SERIES?

The images are quite personal, and the work draws a significant

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YOU GRADUATED WITH A BACHELOR OF ARTS IN PSYCHOLOGY. DID THAT HELP TO SPARK YOUR INTEREST IN SHEDDING LIGHT ON MENTAL ILLNESS?

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW?

Issues of psychology have always been a point of interest and influence for me and my work, though this project is much more personal, and the first I address the ideas of pathology and normalcy. My undergraduate degree is in psychology, and years ago I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, and both of those things played a large role in creating the images.

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WHAT ARE SOME OF THE THINGS YOU HOPED TO SHOW OR DOCUMENT WITH THE PHOTOS IN THIS SERIES? With the series I hope to open a dialogue about mental illness and the stigma often attached to psychopathology. The themes of my images—compulsive behaviors, anxieties, mental illness, psychological instability, even anguish—can be difficult to view, and when creating a number of the photographs I considered how I might be able to elicit in the audience a version of what the character is experiencing.

Though they can be difficult to view, by presenting it with a rich and familiar aesthetic, coupled with elements of humor, I hope to attract viewers before

IN CREATING IMAGES WE OFFER PRINT THE ISSUES, I’VE FOUND A MEANS TO DIGITAL ISSUES, INDULGE OWNOFANXIETIES ANDMY PLENTY IN ASUBSCRIPTION MORE CONTROLLED OPTIONS! WAY THAN I HAD BEFORE 62 | 2017 COLLECTION

US AND WE'D LOVE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT YOUR THOUGHTS ON "NORMALCY".

I am fascinated by the recent adaptation of the term "New Normal" into the cultural zeitgeist. The term was originally coined in relation to the American economic landscape, but was quickly adopted in a cultural and societal context. I think using the word normal in this way can be dangerous, in that it carries a strong and oftentimes finite connotation of a clear and permanent definition of what is acceptable, when in reality what is considered normal differs greatly across cultures and sub-cultures, and in fact is constantly in flux within any one society. For example, until 1986 homosexuality was included, in one form or another, as a mental disorder in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual. The prospect of a behavior which at once point was believed to be abnormal, even unhealthy, being re-classified as normal fascinates me, and that idea plays a large role in my work. &

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW?

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they realize the full meaning of the images. This is the case with my still lifes. I use the aesthetic style of advertising to give a hyper-real personification to the abstract ideas of psychology.

Personally, humor has always been my way of somewhat disarming potentially uncomfortable or unpleasant situations, artistically and otherwise. It was, in large part, how I dealt with my anxiety disorder from the start, and so for me it made sense to include that in the images.

These ideas are really difficult to address and discuss, and to experience, but I don't think they are insurmountable, and so I injected elements of humor to allow for points of entry for the viewer into the series and hopefully open a discussion.

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IN DESCRIBING THE SERIES ON YOUR WEBSITE, YOU WROTE: "IS IT POSSIBLE FOR A SOCIETY TO HAVE A COMMONLY HELD IDEA OF WHAT IS NORMAL, WHEN FEW INDIVIDUALS IN THAT SOCIETY ACTUALLY MEET THE CRITERIA FOR NORMALCY?" THAT QUESTION REALLY STRUCK

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COPING WITH ANXIETY WORDS BY MOLLY WANTLAND // IMAGE BY SARAH B. GILLIAM

“JUST DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.” Having been told this phrase several times over the years when my anxiety has kicked up, I can safely say I have never been able to let go of a worry just because I ‘stopped thinking’ about it. (Sheesh!)

If you struggle with anxiety, you know calming those nerves is never as simple as getting your mind on something else.

It takes time and real effort to effectively move past worry/ stress/anxiety, and I’m glad to say there are many ways to work towards that difficult yet attainable (yes, attainable!) goal. For me, it’s been a long road, and I still have a ways to go, but I’d love to share with you how I’m slowly becoming who I was created to be: a girl full of joy, not worry.

I’m one of those people you wouldn’t imagine to be a worrier.

I’m naturally friendly, talkative, and upbeat, and I rarely show anything other than positive emotions in public. I’ve never liked drama, so I’ve always done my best to avoid it– especially in my conversations with others. Of course, I’m honest with friends and family when major things are going on, but I try not to openly stress about what’s bothering me, because I know deep down that most people in my circle don’t worry in the same way I do. For a long time, I worried

64 | 2017 COLLECTION

about what folks would think if they saw the extent of my stress. I was ashamed. I thought I should have a better grip on my thoughts and not let them rule me, because no one else appeared to be in the same fight.

Someone once told me I was the most laid-back person she knew; I wish I had said, “But you don’t know what it’s like on the inside!” Y’all, my mind can be like a broken record. For as long as I can remember, my brain has wanted a problem to solve, even if there wasn’t a real problem yet. I’ve always thought if I had an exit strategy, or a plan in place should a major issue come up, I’ll be safe. If I can anticipate the bad things that might happen, BAM! I already know how I’ll manage them, so I won’t be caught off guard. You can probably guess that most of the things I’ve imagined have never, ever occurred, and I wasted a lot of my precious life by stressing over nothing. Literally, nothing!

My father passed away when I was 14, and my anxiety kicked into high gear soon after. Of course, that’s an incredibly tender time to begin with, but I have a feeling I was always bound to be a little more high-strung. Around this time is when I first remember trying to anticipate problems. My counselor recently helped me see it was a coping strategy for my grief – I thought if I could somehow avoid any future pain in my life, I wouldn’t have to go through such hurt again. Recognizing this subconscious pattern, I realized I needed to find methods to combat it. Here are some of the ways I’ve found to cope. ››

EXERCISE. I know, I know; we’ve all heard this one a thousand times. But it truly can help, if you can find the right workout for you. You may feel more at peace after working out tough emotions with a sweaty spin class (if so, I am incredibly impressed!), or maybe swimming is your jam. I’ve recently discovered a fusion class that combines Pilates, barre, and cardio, along with inspirational messages and encouragement. You get to sweat while being empowered! Whatever’s the best fit for you, I guarantee you’ll see the world more clearly after spending time moving that body.

ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PREVIEW? TALKING TO SOMEONE. I’ve been seeing an incredible counselor for the past year, who has been invaluable in my life. I’m blessed to have many people in my life that I can share my struggles with, but it’s so different to get a perspective from someone who cares, but doesn’t love you, you know? She’s helped me find more clarity and peace in the midst of a few difficult months, as well as learning to move past that habit of worry. If you don’t know a good counselor in your area, don’t be afraid to ask around – call churches, ask friends. People will want to help; I’m sure of it.

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FULL ISSUE STRENGTH FOLDER. I recently read an article where the author printed off or wrote down anything that brought him comfort for his anxiety, and put it in a folder. Whenever he felt fear creeping in, he opened the folder and read through the things that gave him strength. It could be anything that helps you move past the stress – bible verses, phrases of encouragement, notes from loved ones, pictures, etc. I haven’t made my folder yet, but it’s in the plans!

BREATHING. Oh yes; the easiest and most inexpensive way to manage anxiety – good old breathing.

Though I tend to take it for granted as a coping strategy, it is golden for calming a racing heart or mind. I’ve found the 4-4-8 pattern is best for my body: breathe in for a count of four, hold for another four, and release for eight. In a yoga class the other day, the teacher asked us to breathe in what we want from life, and to breathe out anything that’s holding us back. Try it next time you’re feeling anxious – maybe breathe in “calm”, breathe out “anxiety”.

TIME WITH GOD. I’ve been praying for His thoughts to be my thoughts; His ways to be my ways. For years I was resigned to thinking, “Part of my personality is being anxious; it’s just the way I was made.” I was so very wrong. God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear and timidity – but quite the opposite (2 Tim. 1:7). I’ve seen a fantastic meme floating around that lists what God provides versus what the enemy gives. God stills, reassures, leads, calms, encourages, and comforts you, while the enemy rushes, frightens, pushes, stresses, and discourages – two very different sets of feelings, and I know the one I let my mind embrace more often. When I begin to spiral into the frightened, stressed side, I remind myself that that’s not who I was created to be, and it’s been working. I’m able to think of that list and if my thoughts don’t coincide with what God so freely gives, I’m able to (mostly!) curb the negative thinking, because I know I CAN. Anxiety is not my sentence. It doesn’t have to be my future, because it was never designed to be a part of my past and present.

The next time you start heading down that familiar path of worry, stop and tell yourself what you know is true – that you are His, and you were meant for joy, not pain.

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I wanted to share this article as a way to say, “Solidarity, Sister!”. I think when you struggle with worry, it’s easy to feel alone – but friend, you are never alone. &

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reactive to proactive

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WORDS BY JESSICA RASDALL // IMAGES BY LAURA FOOTE

WATCHING TV FROM my hospital bed, something funny came on and immediately made me think of her.

Without thinking, I picked up the phone to call my best friend. That’s what I had always done - for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more so a habit that I never planned to break. When I heard her voice on the answering machine, reality struck. It hit me like a ton of bricks out of nowhere.

Laura was gone and I would never speak to her again. Her recorded message on the answering machine was all that was left.

to come together. It was Laura, my childhood best friend, who I had been out with. It was Laura who had been in my passenger seat. When I overheard the officer say, “because this was a fatality…” the world I knew ended. Instantly, I broke into a million pieces and began screaming and crying uncontrollably, “No! No! I killed my best friend.”

Our bodies have a strange way of protecting us. I’ve never quite understood how (and why) our brain navigates trauma and shock the way it does. It's as if our mind blocks out just enough for us to be able to function but not enough to truly be whole.

The doctors and nurses held me down and sedated me. From there the shock set in. Denial is probably a better word to describe it. Nothing was real to me.

I was convinced that life would just go back to normal. This had to be some bad dream that I would wake up from. Even after learning what I had done, I would still grab the phone to call her. Then the reality would swoop in and hit me again with the brutal reminder that I would never hear her voice again.

Even in the first moments after the accident, my mind stepped up and tried to protect me. When the paramedics arrived and began cutting me out of my mangled car, they asked me question after question. I couldn't remember anything. I didn't know where I had been or where I was going. I had no idea how I ended up on the side of the interstate trapped in the twisted metal that was left of my car. I couldn't remember who I had been with or identify this lifeless person next to me. I pleaded and begged for someone to help this person in my passenger seat, but at the time I didn't know who she was.

After being transported to the hospital, hooked up to machines and prepped for surgery, the pieces of the puzzle started

There was no blocking this detail out.

There was nothing my mind could do to protect me now. All of the cards were on the table and I was faced with the reality: I drank, drove, and killed my best friend.

THE AFTERMATH In the weeks following the accident, I was visiting my therapist two to three times per week. This wasn’t enough.

There was nothing I (or anyone else) could do to change what I had done.

Nothing could bring her back. But I had to do something. Although I couldn’t remember the accident itself, I remembered every detail that followed: the glass dragging across my skin, the blood covering my hands, the cars speeding past. Every detail that followed the accident was so vivid. ›››

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But why? How? Our minds are supposed to block those details out, right? Isn’t our brain supposed to protect us from those terrifying nightmares and all too vivid flashbacks? If I had made it out of that car and could remember details that should have been blocked out, there had to be a reason.

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If I couldn’t change what happened, maybe just maybe, I could prevent someone else from repeating my same mistake. I set out on a mission to share my story with young adults in hope that I could keep Laura’s memory alive and prevent other lives from being lost. What I didn’t expect was how telling my story would transform my healing process.

HEALING THROUGH SHARING Prior to speaking, I had so many questions. “Why wasn’t it me instead? Why didn’t we call for help? What if… why not… what now….” I was crippled with questions and on a quest to find the answers. But these were many questions that no one had answers to.

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When I began to share my story with teens, it forced me to start dictating what happened. I was no longer the one asking the questions. I was the one narrating the story. This marked a turning point in my journey to acceptance. But soon, the weight of my story began to take its toll.

The PTSD and survivor's guilt crippled me. When therapy and speaking were not enough to battle these demons, my therapist referred me to a psychiatrist. Anti-depressants, anti-anxiety medication and sleeping pills became a part of my daily routine. I was a zombie. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was emotionless and numb. There was nothing left for me to give.

we can With an upcoming trial and the reality of prison time in front determine of me, I knew I needed to wean myself off of these medications.

I was terrified of being sentenced to prison while on high doses of antipsychotics. Not only would my body go through what we’ll withdrawals, but it would be doing so in prison. Who knew what kind of “care” I would (or wouldn’t) receive? do with Up until this point,WE I navigatedOFFER my mental health inPRINT a reactive ISSUES, those manner. This had to change. I needed to care for myself rather than constantly try to pick up the pieces of my broken self. It was time to be proactive with my mental health. I turnedISSUES, to memories DIGITAL creative outlets to channel my ever changing emotions. From painting to fused glass, I allowed myself to get lost in creating art rather than my “what if ” thoughts.

AND PLENTY OF and if we’ll Eleven years later, I’m finally getting the hang of this proactive use them mental health journey.

I’m still speaking and sharing my OPTIONS! SUBSCRIPTION message with the world. Although painting has become for good my go-to creative outlet, everyday isn’t a perfect canvas.

The nightmares are still very real. But what I know is this: Although we cannot control what happens to us or what our body chooses to remember, we can determine what we’ll do with those memories and if we’ll use them for good. &

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beneath

THE SURFACE Her smile is brittle The strain grows apparent Exhaustion peeks through the iron facade Alternately stronger than steel And fragile as gossamer wings The struggle rages internally Immune to reason and reality She screams behind the mask She drowns below the surface She wishes for refuge from the ache The mind is full of interpretations And we all remain lost in translation Pounding on the door of hope and sympathy She wants to be seen and understood Renewed, vulnerable, transparent She waits for the light to shine Through the fog of despair She smiles again An instant is all it takes To feel the embrace of peace The rush of relief Pulled from the waves Hands relaxed Heartbeat slowed Soul comforted She is the captain of her own life boat And perseverance is her first mate

WORDS BY MIA SUTTON

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YOU, YOURSELF, AS MUCH AS ANYBODY IN THE UNIVERSE, DESERVE YOUR LOVE AND AFFECTION. -BUDDHA

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ILLUSTRATION BY JESSIE LEIBER VOLUME II | 71

Gateway to Wholeness: Reclaiming my shadow at the gate of the schoolyard 72 | 2017 COLLECTION

WORDS & IMAGES BY FRANCINE DIODATI

adulthood. Often being shamed for this, it was unbearable to think my son might be following in my footsteps, because if I could not find a way out of that suffering, how could he?

THE CRISP FALL air crawls across the back of my neck and settles onto my flushed cheeks, grounding me back into the buzz outside my son's kindergarten schoolyard. It's minutes before the morning bell will ring and my son is wrapped around my leg, refusing the call of a teacher to come into the yard and play with his classmates. I feel helpless as I stare at the entrance gate that now bears the sign: "No Adults In The Schoolyard." I bend closer into my son only to hear a bystander remark at us: "You're a big boy now, don't cry." My cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, I wish for a way to shield my son from the comment and anyone that would tell him he is anything but perfect the way he is. I wish for a way to shield myself from the critique of my parenting I imagine this bystander's comment is also laced with. My son tightens his grip around my leg, as I bend to meet his eyes and whisper: "There is nothing wrong with crying, big boy or not." The bell rings and we are knocked about by some latecomers who push their way past us to the gate. As we reposition our tangled limbs, an opportunity arises for the teacher's hand to replace my leg. My son is led to the front of the class line where he will stand hand-in-hand with his teacher and softly cry for a few minutes. He will look back once with an outstretched arm. I will blow a kiss. This is our morning routine for months, as he transitions into elementary school. A stark contrast to the countless other children who seem to effortlessly stream past us into the schoolyard each morning.

I carry my own tears back to the car as I whisper to myself: "Have we still not gotten past this?" A part of me wants this to be a question for my son. A part of me wants the overwhelming feeling behind my red cheeks to be all about him. But, our morning routine has worn me thin from all of its bumping up against the most tender parts of myself and I have no way to not now see how this is really all about me. It is about my intolerance towards the parts of myself being reflected back to me by my son; how I abandon the quiet, emotional, needstime-to-jump-into-new-situations kid living inside of me. I, myself, being an anxious and highly sensitive card-carrying introvert, struggled a lot as a child, and to be honest, well into

Growing up can be especially hard when you do not fit into society's cookie-cutter ideal of personality and temperament.

Comments like "Cat got your tongue?" at dinner tables, "You're too sensitive!" in schoolyards, and "Needs to speak up in class" in report cards were hallmarks of my youth and unfortunately messages that also became absorbed into my identity. Read: the voice in my head that continually whispers "there must be something wrong with me". Looking back, I see that this voice found a home in me because I did not have a champion - someone to tell me that there is a strong cultural bias towards extroversion & against emotionality, and dear child, there is no shame in being you, a sensitive introvert. That this bias will make people think you need to change and if you are not careful, will shame you into trying to accommodate them. The same shame that can then have you questioning your parenting skills in a schoolyard decades later.

There with my son and I each morning, was a reflection of a deep need to find a way to show some loving kindness to the part of me who still believed there was something wrong with my sensitivity and introversion. A need to stop fighting against my learned helplessness. It seems, in wanting to fit in to society's norm, we can turn the tables on ourselves and deny who we are to accommodate the intolerances of others.

We will resort to fighting against our innate temperament and personality as a way of trying to create hope and a sense of control over a despair that can arise when our biological need to stay part of the tribe is threatened by shame for being different. There with us each morning, I found a call to reclaim the parts of me that had splintered off in childhood and remained living in the shadow of this shame and now stood staring back at me through my son.

Finding a way to heed this call is a work in progress, and easier now that my inner barometer has moved from responding to the shaming voice of "What is wrong with me?" with "What would I want for my son in the moment?" You see, I've found that healing can come when we mirror the love and acceptance we have for our children back onto ourselves.

That, in learning to mother our children, we can also learn to become a mother to the parts of ourselves that were not tended to by our caretakers as children. And, in doing so, we can learn to show up for life, and those we love more fully. It can return us to unconditional love. Whole love.

This past week, my son, without hesitation, walked through the schoolyard gate to greet his new best friend with a hug.

And I, again, walked my tears back to the car, knowing that by trying to honor who my son was at that gate I was teaching him how to keep himself whole, and he, in turn, was helping me pave a way back to a fuller loving of myself. &

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JOURNEYING THROUGH

ANXIETY BECOMING A MOTHER TRANSFORMED KB’S LIFE FROM SERENITY TO ANXIETY. AFTER STRUGGLING THROUGH THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF POSTPARTUM ANXIETY, SHE WAS DETERMINED TO PROPEL HERSELF FORWARD AND REFUSED TO LET HER ILLNESS DEFINE HER JOURNEY.

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WORDS BY KB H

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PRIOR TO BECOMING A MOTHER, I was a person that never even had the word "anxiety" in my vocabulary. And "panic attack"...what the heck was that? I had no clue really. I was calm, at ease, and religiously carved out time with my yoga mat.

and overall just worried from one moment to another. I was living in a perpetual state of anxiousness and had no idea.

Sometime around four or five months postpartum I discovered this thing called "postpartum anxiety." While reading through the symptoms, it sounded oddly similar to what I was going through. The interesting thing was, no care provider had informed me of PPA. All I had heard about during pregnancy was postpartum depression and what those symptoms looked like postpartum anxiety was something entirely new to me. In fact, I was screened for PPD at my two-week check up and six-week checkup appointments and passed with flying colors.

But, there was no screening for anxiety.

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Fast forward to 6 weeks postpartum. I'm going back to work - slammed with demands from my 9-5 job, my newborn that needs me and doesn't sleep at night, homefront life and last but not least...my trusty breast pump that beckoned me every 3 hours like clockwork.

At first, I dove headfirst into it and felt like I could be Super Mom...whoever this elusive Super Mom was. Soon, it got to be incredibly overwhelming and I didn't have the sleep reserves to know how to deal with anything properly - or the calories. I was packing the food away just trying to break even with the baby nursing around the clock.

I had one incident while driving home from work and it rocked my world. I had been up nursing the baby all through the night (per the norm) and drove into work without eating breakfast. Upon driving back home to feed the baby, I felt like I was going to pass out. It was terrifying beyond belief. I pulled over and grabbed a bag of M&Ms that was in my purse to get something in my system.

This type of thing happened a few more times and eventually led to me developing a massive anxiety over driving and being stuck at stoplights.

As I sat there nursing my new babe and reading about the symptoms of PPA, everything rang true for me. And I realized how utterly overwhelmed and depleted the prior 4-5 months had left me. Somehow saying it was incredibly scary doesn't do it justice. I was terrified of what I was discovering about myself, yet finally relieved that there was a name for it. ››› IN A PERPETUAL

“

I WAS LIVING

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Then it manifested into ridiculous fears and worries – I was worried about being alone (what if I pass out), worried about being by myself with the baby (what if I pass out and there is no one here to take care of the baby)

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HEY WORLD, I GO TO THERAPY To begin to work through my issues, I went to therapy and saw a counselor once a week. I am 100% not ashamed of that in any way. I truly think more people should go to therapy. Counseling has been beneficial on so many levels and I greatly appreciate the tools it has given me to tackle this new little place I’ve found myself in life.

Still, at times I felt guilty, and dare I say, pitiful for going to counseling after becoming a mother. Whoever heard of such nonsense, I thought. It’s certainly not the picture the Pampers commercial paints for us of motherhood.

And it is definitely not what I envisioned adding to my schedule post-baby. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball, and you just have to keep swinging while up to bat.

to me, and I didn't even know it was "self-care." To me it was just "normal." I used to walk outside, go to the gym, do yoga, write, reflect, get mani-pedis, sit in coffee shops sipping lattes, and go out to eat with girlfriends. Once I had a baby, I didn't do any of these things. Not a one.

Zilch. I had somehow told myself that I wasn't allowed to do things like that, because my baby needed me. Plus, being a full-time working mom outside of the home, I already felt guilty for being away from my baby. I would tell myself - why on Earth would I go out to see a friend instead of rushing home to my baby?

Now, while I think my heart was in the right place - the all or nothing approach clearly did not work for me.

Eventually I found myself not even missing those former things I used to enjoy so much. Now, I try to make a point to do things that are self-care. Even if it's just listening to a podcast, or taking a second to paint my nails. A little bit goes a long way.

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Today, I still go to therapy once a month. And I would highly recommend it to anyone. Whether a mother or not, I believe therapy to be very therapeutic and good for the soul. By bottling up our feelings inside ourselves and letting thoughts run wild in our mind, we are only exacerbating the underlying problem. For me personally, it has been amazing for me to have a safe place to speak and not be judged, to sort through my plethora of feelings on the subject and to receive insight on coping skills and self-care.

SELF-CARE IS NOT SELFISH Before becoming a mama, self-care came really natural

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I have learned that caring for one’s self is not selfish. As the saying goes, you have to put the oxygen mask on yourself before you can help anyone else. You have to take care of yourself and make sure you are okay before you can truly be an attentive person to those around you.

EXERCISE FOR THE HEALTH OF YOUR MIND Making time for exercise has made a huge impact on my mind. There are days where I feel like if I can just simply

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move for 15 minutes, I can clear my head and usher in a sense of calm and positivity. I practiced yoga for years and kept it up throughout my pregnancy right until delivery.

Reestablishing a yoga routine has helped to bring about a sense of peace and tranquility. It’s amazing what happens to us when we simply remember to breathe! Practicing mindfulness and being aware of the thoughts I let take root in my mind has helped me tremendously as well.

Many times I just have to visualize crumpling up a piece of paper and tossing it in the trash. In a way I’m telling myself to throw that thought away.

HEALING IS A PROCESS, NOT A DESTINATION As humans, we go through things throughout our lives that are less than appealing. What I’ve learned through this whole journey is that healing is a journey and a process, it’s not necessarily a destination that you arrive to. When I look back at where I started and where I am now, I see a magnitude of growth and progress. I can confidently say that through a lot of work, anxiety is now the equivalent of that tiny bug that buzzes around you, but you are able to swat at it and say “shoo” and it eventually goes away. Yet, that’s not to say that there aren’t days where the anxiety can rear its ugly head and feel like a little monster who velcroed itself onto me and won’t let go. It’s all a process and it’s all progress. You have to accept the setback with the strides in order to heal.

It dawned upon me one day that maybe there is a greater reason for all of this - a bigger purpose. Maybe just maybe, if I write about my experience someone else can be encouraged or feel enveloped in a new wellspring of hope. I’ve discovered that staying isolated and guarded – although comfortable – doesn’t help anyone. It doesn’t provide hope.

Every time I stumble upon the story of a woman who has battled or is currently battling some form of anxiety, depression, stress, or general feeling of being overwhelmed - my heart overflows with compassion and understanding for her. Each time I read their stories, I stand stunned like wow! someone else out there has experienced this too? It makes me take great comfort in their words and in sharing a difficult experience that often remains silent.

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And why do we remain so quiet regarding our struggles?

Fear of "not being good enough," fear of what people will think of us...fear of being honest and vulnerable?

Here’s what I’ve learned: the struggling person who started this journey is not the same person writing this now. There have been highs and lows, but when I see the progress that has been made, I feel triumph. Anxiety or any struggle doesn’t have to define you. Be open. Share your story. Use what you have experienced to propel you forward. What once was intended for sorrow can be used for the greater good. &

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Suffering in Silence:

A LETTER TO THOSE WHO DO NOT UNDERSTAND

WORDS BY WENDY ROBIN // IMAGE BY HEIDI HAGMAN

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TO WHOM IT MAY OR MAY NOT CONCERN: You know me.

I am your friend, relative, neighbor, and coworker. You see me as a happy, friendly person with a huge heart. You can trust me, confide in me and count on me anytime or anywhere. You see me at the park playing volleyball until sunset, hiking in the foothills, or dancing the night away.

But you don’t see my illness. I don’t have a pale face, a scarf on a bald head, open wounds, or a limp. And seeing is believing. And believing is truth. So how could I possibly be sick?

Well people, I have depression, a physical chronic illness that affects my brain and body. It sabotages my thinking, confidence, and optimism. It sucks the fun out of me and holds me down so I have no chance of fighting it. It makes my body feel tired, achy, and heavy. It is significantly disabling when it’s in full force.

Depression is not an excuse to be negative, lazy or antisocial. It is not a pessimistic outlook on life, or a selfpity party. And unfortunately, it is not well understood by the general population. Research is ongoing, but there is no "fix" and there is no cure.

It’s been almost 20 years since being diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, and I have yet to rid it from my body and my life. I am compliant with taking medicine and actively participating in therapy. I try to exercise regularly and eat well. I try to focus on the positive things in my life while letting go of the things I cannot control.

I’ve tried it all. But this disease continues to hover over me and sometimes consumes me. More days than not, I am just trying to keep my head above water. I try to “function” the best I can, even when I feel like I’m barely surviving. I just have to keep...going...forward...no matter how heavy the burden.

You see, when I feel down, my analytical brain tries to figure out what I’m upset about. I still don’t accept that I can feel depressed for absolutely no reason at all. No one willingly accepts that. The problem is, thinking about

what is wrong with my life just adds to the depression.

So whether or not a “real” problem has caused me to feel depressed, I am now drowning even deeper in my failures, disappointments, and anxieties.

So please don’t ask me, “What’s wrong?” because I don’t know. And please don't tell me to "Cheer up!" or that "it could be worse." Comparing my struggles with depression to others’ struggles with poverty, war or abuse does not make me feel better. It's like telling a person dying of cancer that at least it's better than drowning or starving to death.

If you really want to support me, you can say something like, “Are you OK? Is there anything you want or need to talk about? I’ll listen without judgement. I'm here for you." Check in with me later to show you are thinking about me. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to support you.”

But if you offer to help, PLEASE follow through! It is devastating when I reach out to someone, exposing my vulnerability, sadness and illness, and then they flake out or go silent. If you can’t be reliable, then just a hug will do.

Oh, and one more thing you should know: I want to live life. I want to feel love, joy and happiness.

I want to revel in my daughter’s kindness and accomplishments. I want to continue to help others. I have so much to give. That’s why I’m still here. I’m still “functioning.” I get out of bed everyday, even when it feels like it's the hardest thing to do.

Some days I’m thriving, and others I’m just surviving.

And somehow, I’ve been able to get through dozens of episodes of severe depression with acceptance and time.

I’m more confident now that I will be able to get through it again the next time, as long as I'm not alone.

I need you on my side, by my side.

I hope you can understand me better now. Because I am one of millions of functional, outwardly “happy” people suffering from major depressive disorders. And we need your support. Thank you for listening. &

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celebrate rn a le

to g in

WEDDINGS, BABIES AND NEW JOBS GET A LOT OF RECOGNITION AND CELEBRATION. PHOTOGRAPHERS RADHIKA & IAN MCDIARMID WANTED TO REMIND WOMEN TO CELEBRATE THEIR EVERYDAY SUCCESSES.

WORDS BY RADHIKA & IAN MCDIARMID // PHOTOS BY RADIAN PHOTOGRAPHY

EARLY IN 2015, Yasmin Eleby made news when, for her 40th birthday, she married herself. She told ABC News, “I wanted to have a celebration of myself. My wedding was going to be about me making a commitment to love myself, to honor myself, and to know my self-worth.” Her event seemed to strike a chord with many because it was so unexpected, but also because it seemed so amazing. How perfect is it to be able to affirm yourself and your self-love in such a grand and public way? And how weird is it that such an affirmation would be so unexpected?

As photographers capturing engagements, weddings, and newborns, we see a lot of celebrations of family. At our age, we have a lot of friends and colleagues celebrating these very life moments, and we are so happy for them. We also have a lot of friends who are strong, single women kicking butt every day in their lives and careers. Their lives are filled with accomplishments, but none of which have yet justified $20,000 celebrations, or even a photography session. We interviewed five such women in our lives that we admire. These are women who are building intentional lives for themselves and for the people around them. These women deserve to be celebrated. ›››

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muriel When Muriel started teaching right after college she bought a pair of fake glasses off Amazon and wore them every day. She would peer over them to emphasize her authority or coolly remove them to hammer home a point. They were her security blanket, a little prop to help her “fake it ‘til you make it,” until one day she forgot them.

She remembered thinking to herself, right after a student questioned her suddenly robust eyesight, “It’s okay, this is where you are. Don’t worry about it.” That moment, when she decided to accept her discomfort, became a turning point in her career. “I just felt a lot more comfortable with not knowing everything.”

Since then, Muriel transitioned into a school leadership position and helped start a middle school in Nashville. She recalled going into her first day as a school leader and thinking, “Here’s your choice. Are you going to wear the glasses or are you going to show up and recognize that this is what it is?” She came into her new position with more honesty, she said, recognizing that she had to bring herself and her skills to her new role without getting distracted by trying to overcompensate for her shortcomings. But after two years in that role, her more honest approach to her work also made it abundantly clear that

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she was not where she needed to be. “I realized that this skillset I was growing was valuable to me but the work that I was doing wasn’t aligned with the strongest gifts I had and how I wanted to use them.” So she changed what she was doing and moved back into the classroom. To some people that she talked to, it seemed like a step back, but to Muriel it was a move in the right direction.

“One thing that I really appreciate in myself is that I have to listen to my voice about what I need to do and I can’t let other people define those goals for me. I appreciate that my goals are defined by myself and I respect myself enough to push myself to be excellent and I can define for myself what that needs to look like.”

Muriel isn’t like everyone else, but in a way that makes her just like everyone else. We all have those times in our lives that the prescribed or expected path just doesn’t make sense for us, so we reevaluate and make a new path. According to other’s expectations, Muriel took a step back.

According to her, she grew in a new role and continued to move forward by realigning her work with her values. She knew in her mind what was right for her, but perhaps more importantly, she knew to listen to her mind even when other people disagreed.

elizabeth Elizabeth is a runner. When we met her in college it was pretty common for her to cap her long day of work with a 3 mile run, in North Carolina, in August, at 5pm. But while running has been a constant in her life since she started running in middle school, her relationship to running, and to her body, has changed a lot. “In middle school and high school I was using running as a way to fit in with other people, to make my body fit in with what was acceptable or idealized. It was a form of self-harm.” It wasn’t until she started coaching running to young kids that she started to really rethink her relationship with exercise. “Just seeing them at such a pure and innocent age latch on to something that I enjoyed doing, but doing it in a way that was good for their body. They liked doing it because it made them feel healthy and strong and powerful. They weren’t using it to change themselves to fit in. They were using it in a way to empower themselves to be strong girls.” Since then, running for Elizabeth has been less about what it does to her body and more about what it does for her mental and physical well-being. “Now going for runs is my meditation every day.

It’s something I use to focus myself, to ground myself, to remind myself who I am and what I stand for. When I think back to my earlier marathons, it was a very high pressure, high expectation situation that I put on myself. Now I see it as a transformational gift of an experience where every time I run a race I feel like it’s a rebirth and a renewal of my mind and body and spirit.”

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elena Elena, too, knows what it’s like to feel like her identity doesn’t match up with expectations. Elena was born in Colombia and adopted into a white, New England family and she struggled with this part of her identity from an early age. As she has developed personally and professionally, she has come to see her lack of belonging to a clean and simple identity as an asset, rather than a liability. “I realize that there isn’t one way to be Latina. I think acknowledging that gives me full permission to have an unlimited imagination of what my life will look like.” Her inability to define herself easily based on simple ideas and expectations about ethnicity or identity has lead her to a place of freedom from those ideas, where she can create her own ideas and expectations about who she is and what her life could look like.

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bettina

Bettina has always had her own ideas, but has not always known how to make them heard.

“When I was younger, I just assumed that other people had the power. I just assumed that there was no ability to challenge that. Whatever the authority figure said, that was it.” Things changed when she realized that in order to get what she wanted, she had to speak up and make herself heard. “Going to college I learned that is actually not how this works. I do have some power and it’s up to me to advocate for what I want and to go out and find the things that I need and want.”

She has brought this realization to her work in an education nonprofit in Durham and on the public school board. Now she is leveraging her listen-first approach to create the very kinds of spaces that she knows she needed growing up, where all people feel heard and validated, not just those with the loudest voices.

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Janice too knows something about creating new kinds of spaces. Janice is an entrepreneur currently running two successful businesses. In one she’s a storyteller, creating wedding films for couples and promotional films for businesses and organizations. In the other she’s creating digital libraries of teaching strategies for schools around the country. She’s seeing needs in the world and filling them.

But this drive has not always been celebrated. “I’ve always been fiercely independent and my whole life, in some cases, this has been construed as bad. As a child, ‘bossy’ was a regular term used to describe me. I was called a ‘bitch’ in high school for having a lot of opinions. In retrospect I read some of the things I wrote and it wasn’t bitchy, it was just me having strong opinions and not caring about sharing them.” Though criticized for it as a youth, Janice’s “fierce independence” now affords her a life where she gets to make her own rules and set her own expectations.

janice

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There are so many expectations placed on people based on their perceived identities, whether they be ethnic, racial, gender, or any other conceivable category. These expectations can offer a template for how to understand and act in the world, but they can also limit our imagination, placing artificial boundaries around what is right or what is possible. For many, like the women we interviewed for this article, expectations merely set the stage for a more profound transformation into thoughtful, empowered women. They knew what was expected of them and then learned that what they wanted for themselves was something different. Then they made it happen. But in making these lives for themselves, they’ve also helped to show what is missing from our collective understanding about how we see them and their accomplishments.

There’s a knowledge gap in our collective mind.

These five women are challenging expectations, creating new definitions for themselves of accomplishment and success, but we really can’t see it because we don’t know how. We can see engagements and marriages and babies. We know what those look like and we celebrate them accordingly. But we can’t really see the pride that Muriel has in her experiences at 27, or that Elizabeth has when she finds herself reborn after

her thirteenth marathon, or that Elena has when she decides her muddled identity is an asset, or that Bettina has when she makes herself heard over voices that try to drown her out, or that Janice has when she exceeds her revenue goals for 2016 (again) and sets the bar even higher for next year.

There’s no party for self-actualization or registry for bringing a new understanding into a meeting or a new business into the world. Muriel likes to celebrate her accomplishments with a popsicle.

Elizabeth celebrates with a new pair of running shoes. When Bettina does something she’s proud of, she calls a friend and tells them about it.

What if we went out of our way to celebrate these kinds of accomplishments too? What if we put as much thought and energy and excitement into the ways that women like these spend every day swimming upstream, challenging expectations, and creating the world that they want to live in.

Getting engaged, realizing your self worth, getting married, empowering yourself and the people around you, having a baby, building a business— all of these are amazing accomplishments that deserve to be recognized and shared and celebrated. Overcoming expectations is a daunting task that women like these tackle every day. That deserves a celebration. &

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MY TEMPERAMENTAL MIND WORDS & IMAGES BY LEONA MORELOCK // IMAGES BY AMANDA SLATON

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MY MIND IS MY SOUL. MY SOUL IS TEMPERAMENTAL. I woke after ten days to people wearing gowns and masks.

Scared, frantic, angry, and confused I was taken to a dark tunnel and wondered what on earth was going on. Wheeled back to an unfamiliar room, a lady who I didn’t know was telling me she was my mom.

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When a fetus is sixteen days old the foundation of their brain starts to form. The miracle of that tiny human aside, where on earth does that foundation come from? How many generations fill that mind? I think mine goes right back to Eve with her lack of self control and one decision affecting the rest of her life along with unwanted consequences for others.

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I suffer with clinical depression. Is that the cause of my addictive personality? Was the alcohol causing the depression or was the depression causing the alcohol? With a few things out of the way it has been concluded that the depression is here to stay. Which I am finally at peace with. At peace with taking a cocktail of prescribed drugs that work for me.

GROWING UP My childhood was close to perfect with a loving family, comfortable environment and no big drama - that I was aware of. I was a quiet child and always found it hard to make friends. Looking through my elementary school reports, tattling was always an issue I had.

I wouldn’t have been able to wrap my mind around this at the time but now see it was the start of jealousy. Jealousy of others and how normal they seemed. And how un-normal I felt. My family is British and we moved from England to Portugal when I was eight years old. The culture shock of moving to a struggling country aside, my pre-teen age wasn’t the best time for a move. I was there for six years, became fluent in Portuguese, made a few friends, lived a semi sheltered life and entered puberty. A second vital time.

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My tattoo symbolizes that it’s okay to take a break. We don’t have to put a period at the end of something if it doesn’t work out, we can just rest.

Or if the day is bad, it’s okay to rest. It’s a bad day not a bad life. The semicolon started with a girl who’s dad committed suicide.

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At fourteen we moved to America. The big U.S.A. with Saved By The Bell and Beverly Hills 90210 being my only sources of American teenage drama. This move also came with a bigger culture shock. Think back with me to high school - being new to the school, new to the country, a totally different accent, coupled with a touch of shyness and that season of my life wasn’t looking the best.

through my twenties while friends grew up and became adults. I can’t get a do-over for that decade that I lost. I have to look at it as a season that was grooming me to become the woman that I am today.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that excessive drinking cancels out any effects that anti depressants may have had. After putting that struggle to bed I was able to put together my personal support team. I love my team of doctors and know without a doubt they all have my best interest in mind.

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THE WRECK I share my first sixteen years to plant a seed of doubt.

Now is when the story gets good. I had a car wreck.

Almost fatal. I was life flighted to Vanderbilt Medical Center where I reamined in critical condition for three months with my mom, whom at first I didn’t recognize.

During those six years, I became pregnant after IVF. I had the easiest and hardest pregnancy. My precious baby was perfect and although I wanted to love those long ten months, they were tedious.

I had only stopped drinking six months prior and with the first IVF treatment all prescribed medication, that made me feel me, came to a standstill.

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My homecoming was celebrated as the miracle that it was but entering back into society wasn’t easy. Against many odds, I made it. Obtaining a bachelor’s degree, marrying a wonderful man named Chad, and starting a banking career, I successfully entered adulthood. I participated in the all too familiar binge drinking while in college which unlike most, lingered with me.

Long story short, after getting fired from my professional job and getting a DUI, I continued to spiral. I was ‘forced’ into therapy which for me meant going through counselor after counselor while basically stating that people were crazy and I was fine. At the same time I was prescribed drug after drug telling my doctors they weren’t working and I needed something else. I felt lazy, sad, misunderstood, out of control all while feeling in total control. I had several small businesses, several small loans, a few clients which equaled a lot of debt. As surprised as I still am to this day, Chad stayed by my side through it all.

THE TURNAROUND His first three years were spent trying to get the recipe for my personal cocktail again considering my now post pregnancy body. My son turned four on December 31st, 2016 and I now have the feeling of normalcy that I have always craved.

Normal in my soul and mind.

Delving into this invisible disease I’ve found out that it can be hereditary; also traumatic brain injuries are a leading cause.

I have family history of both depression and alcoholism and personal history with a TBI. So which came first? When my mind began formation or when I was surrounded by gowns and masks and a lady who called herself my mom?

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Time lost with him is one if my biggest regrets. But that’s a selfish regret, the daily struggle, guilt and unhappiness that I placed on him should be my number one.

I am thirty seven and have been sober for six years. I drank my way

Normal for you isn’t normal for me and that is okay. Your mind is something you learn to cherish.

There may be times when it turns against you and that is when you treat it with care and seek help.

Did I mention that my soul is temperamental? &

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POSTCARDS FROM

GRAND RAPIDS, MI WORDS & IMAGES BY KELLY BROWN

I HAVEN’T LIVED IN GRAND RAPIDS MY WHOLE LIFE. IN FACT, I’VE ONLY BEEN PERMANENTLY SITUATED HERE FOR THREE YEARS. WHEN I MOVED TO GRAND RAPIDS FROM TRAVERSE CITY I WAS EXPECTING A BIG CITY WHERE I’D FEEL LOST MOST OF THE TIME AND ENDLESSLY MISS NATURE, TREES, WATER, CRITTERS…YOU KNOW, NON-CITY LIFE IN GENERAL. IN FACT, GRAND RAPIDS IS BURSTING WITH NATURE. DRIVE ALONG I-96 OR 131 AND YOU’LL EVENTUALLY CROSS OVER A GIANT RIVER THAT CUTS THE CITY IN TWO – THE WEST SIDE AND EAST SIDE. IF A BIG RIVER RUNNING THROUGH THE CITY ISN’T ENOUGH, THERE’S PLENTY OF PARKS, TRAILS, AND BEACHES WITHIN THE CITY AND ALONG LAKE MICHIGAN TO EXPLORE. AND, IF LIKE MOST PEOPLE, YOU’RE TRAVELLING HERE FOR OUR INFAMOUS NICKNAME OF “BEER CITY” THEN YOU’LL BE SURE TO FIND PLENTY OF PLACES FOR A COLD BREW AND LOCALLY PRODUCED FOOD.

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REEDS LAKE is in East Grand Rapids/Gas Light Village and is one of the only large bodies of water in the Grand Rapids area. Park your car and hop on your bike to take a trip around the paved trails.

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RIVERWALK – And of course, you can’t forget the Grand River running through the entire city. Park your car anywhere along the gorgeous river and find the paved trail that runs along both sides. A perfect place for runners, dog lovers and fisherman, the Grand River is a scenic must in the Grand Rapids area.

FIELD AND FIRE – When you’re done with a class at Beer City Barre, hop next door to Field and Fire and grab one of their delicious croissants or a cup of Madcap coffee.

The friendly staff, delicious café breakfast and lunch, and stunning desserts and pastries are a nice addition to the Monroe neighborhood.

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MARTHA’S – With no chain grocers located in the Grand Rapids area, locals flock to Martha’s. Not only will you find food to fill the pantry but the assortment of deli goods, cheeses, and their famous wine selection (along with excellent customer service) will have you sold on never returning to a chain grocer again.

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NANTUCKET – You’ll smell Nantucket bakery the second you step out of your car.

Located directly next to Martha’s, Nantucket is the perfect companion for a croissant or loaf of French bread to go with the cheese and wine you just purchased.

BREWERY VIVANT – While Founders may be the head honcho of the beer industry in Grand Rapids, Brewery Vivant is the winner in my heart.

With truly exceptional service, a changing menu that surprises the palette, and adventurous beers that are perfect for beer fanatics and newbies alike, Vivant is a must for anyone passing through.

HERITAGE HILL – Park your car, tie up your laces, and get walking in the Heritage Hill area of Grand Rapids.

Featuring some of the most stunning Victorian and 19th century homes in the area (including a Frank Lloyd Wright house), the Heritage Hill neighborhood is a perfect destination after a meal and a few drinks at one of the local restaurants.

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VANDERMILLS – After burning all those calories along Reed’s Lake you’ll be eager to quench your thirst. Vandermills’ second location recently opened in Grand Rapids and serves up locally sourced food that changes with the season and of course their house produced cider. YUM.

BEER CITY BARRE – This is no ballet class! Having opened in fall of 2016 in the new 820 Monroe building, Beer City Barre is bringing barre fitness to local Grand Rapidians. Beer City Barre combines yoga, Pilates, strength training and cardio into a one hour class that will have you sculpting and lifting every muscle of your body.

D’ARTS DONUTS – Whether you’re a family with tons of kids or a couple looking for a quick treat on Sunday morning, D’arts Donuts is sure to thrill. Located in Easttown, D’arts features donuts that tingle the senses and challenge the mind. You won’t find your standard donuts here – think lemon lavender, bacon, and more.

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THANK YOU TO THESE SPONSORS FOR MAKING THIS ISSUE POSSIBLE Please take the time to visit their websites and see what they offer.

BUMBLEWOOD bumblewoodhandmade.com

LOVELY LITTLE DESIGN COMPANY lovelylittledesignco.com

Simple, Natural, Healthy Skincare

A boutique graphic design, branding, web design and stationery studio that loves working with creative professionals and boutique businesses.

THE FIGMENT thefigmentwriters.com Copywriting services to help you put the heart and soul back into your business.

PONDER THE WEB pondertheweb.com Web development for businesses and marketing agencies.

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THE EDIE COMPANY ediecompany.com Classic wardrobe staples that are ethically manufactured and give back to children’s’ education.

CHAOTIC & COLLECTED chaoticcollected.com An online shop featuring quirky lil’ garlands, confetti, and other pretty paper goods.

SMART BUSINESS MOM smartbusinessmom.com Teaching moms in business how to monetize their skills to generate multiple streams of income online, especially through selling on Amazon.

LULAROE facebook.com/lularoewithmegananne Unique Boutique Style Womens Clothing Sizes XXS through 3XL

VISION WORDS visionwords.co Creating Motivational Sticky Notes with Affirmations, Mantras and Scriptures on them

NATIONAL PROTECTIVE SERVICES, INC. npsva.com A small, woman-owned security services firm that has served the needs of clients in Virginia and Maryland since 1979

FRINGE & FITNESS fringeandfitness.com Helping busy moms break the stigma of the “mom bod” and change the idea of self-care to health care by focusing on small daily actions.

AU’GUST MERCANTILE augustmercantile.com A Home & Lifestyle Exchange that carries unique items to personalize your home and life!

PAPERFINCH DESIGN paperfinch.com Creating inspirational and geographic goodies to help people celebrate their daring adventure of life

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REGULAR CONTRIBUTORS AMY COOK, Books Wife and soccer mom by day, nerdy bookworm by night. Lover of wine, literature, pie and all things Gone With The Wind. instagram.com/amy1939

ERICA MUSYT, Movies Erica is a 30-something Virginia native who is passionate about family, friends, and the movies! She buys books faster than she reads them, loves ladybugs and all things purple. A movie star at heart, Erica is delighted to be aCONTRIBUTORS contributor to the HollAROUND and Lane movie section!

FIND OUR THE WEB. lookingtothestars.com

REGULAR CONTRIBUTORS

CHELSEA OLIVER, Music Chelsea Oliver is a lover of life in heels, coffee in hand, who runs the marketing department of a credit union by day and makes sassy stationery for her own business by night. Chelsea is an old soul in a powerlifting millennial body. She craves authenticity while loving every filter on Instagram and tweeting in all caps as necessary. chelsealeeoliver.com ALLI PETERS Photographer

Alli is a midwestern photographer and content marketer currently based in Minneapolis, MN. From start to finish, Alli enjoys capturing raw moments - whether they’re of families and friends or landscapes and events, and using these moments to help people connect. allipeters.com

LINDA JOY NEUFELD Photographer

Linda Joy is a Pacific Northwest native who currently calls Chicago “home”. She is passionate about many things, particularly her husband, creativity, and making memories all over this beautiful earth.

When she’s not taking photos, you can find her reading or scribbling away her thoughts on either paper or her blog. lindajoy.weebly.com

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REGULAR CONTRIBUTORS MADELINE MULLENBACH Photographer

Madeline is based in Louisville, Ky and attending school in Lexington, Ky. She has a passion for capturing the candid moments that are given to us in life. She is a lifestyle & landscape photographer experimenting with portraits just recently! She is pursuing a degree in Communications with a double emphasis in PR and Social Media and is excited to see where this takes her! instagram.com/madelinemullenbach GENESIS GEIGER Photographer

Genesis is a lifestyle and natural light photographer currently roaming Cincinnati, OH. In her work, she is moved by the quiet moments that sometimes go unnoticed, determined to capture the details that can get lost in the excitement, and completely captivated by the love that can be shared among humanity.

Through it all, Genesis’ passion is to freeze time and bring people together through her work. genesisgeiger.com JULIA DENT Photographer

Julia is a Philadelphia based photographer who enjoys black-and-white and travel photography. She explores her new city with her Nikon D60 and Siberian Husky and shoots pictures for her photography blog, Philly with a Fjallraven. She loves adventure and would love to travel the world as a photojournalist for National Geographic one day. thephillyphotoblog.com RADHIKA & IAN MCDIARMID Photographer

Radhika and Ian are wedding and lifestyle photographers based in Durham, NC.They document the deep connection and powerful work of building marriages, because they believe in the unseen wonder of intentionally crafted relationships. radianphotography.com

JAMIE DEURMEIER Photographer

Jamie is a photographer based out of Portland, Oregon, where her love for outdoor adventures and natural beauty is sufficiently satisfied. She's passionate about creating images that capture the inner strength and beauty of her subjects, and believes that the best sessions are ones in which the subjects can feel both vulnerable and empowered. Her goal is to create an environment that allows for her subjects to encounter and express the bold nature within, and simply be there to capture it. jamiedeurmeier.com

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5 QUESTIONS WITH

DANA MALSTAFF THE WOMAN BEHIND THE BOSS MOM MOVEMENT WHO KNOWS HOW TO GET SHIT DONE. SHE STARTED HER BUSINESS WHILE PREGNANT WITH HER SON AND GREW AND NURTURED IT WHILE PREGNANT WITH HER DAUGHTER. SHE BELIEVES THAT WOMEN CAN BE BOTH PASSIONATE MOTHERS AND PASSIONATE ENTREPRENEURS AND SHE HELPS WOMEN BUILD BUSINESSES THAT THEY LOVE. SHE’S A CHAMPION FOR THROWING AWAY THE GUILT AND ROCKING YOUR CONFIDENCE - LIKE A TOTAL BOSS MOM. 1. IF YOU COULD RELIVE ANY MOMENT FROM YOUR PAST, WHAT WOULD IT BE? Wow, I had to really think about this one. There are so many memories that I wish I had savored more. There are moments when you really understand how amazing that particular experience is in your life, but it passes too quickly. And then there are the moments that you let pass without notice, but look back on and wish you had taken the time to really enjoy the experience.

3. WHAT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTERISTIC IN ANOTHER PERSON TO YOU? The ability to let themselves be silly. It takes self confidence and the knowledge that you are worthy of love to let yourself be silly. When we are little we do it unconsciously because it comes naturally to us to have fun. When we grow up it gets pushed back so that we can ‘be adults’, but when I find someone that can be silly and not be afraid to look silly, well that is a wonderful characteristic.

If I had to pick one moment, I think it would be the first time my son looked up at me while I was breastfeeding him.

Figuring out how to be a mom, with lots of crying because breastfeeding is really hard, we finally figured it out and about seven weeks after he was born, he looked up at me and in that moment I fell in love. I had loved him before, but I was hooked. I would go back to that moment a million times if I could.

4. WHAT IS ONE MATERIAL THING YOU CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT? If I am being really honest then it would be my computer or my phone, but if none of that online business and connection thing mattered, then it would be hand lotion. I know, silly, but I can’t stand dry hands. I have to moisturize my hands like 10 times a day, especially in the winter. And dry feet...I can’t even talk about it.

2. WHAT IS ONE TALENT YOU DON’T HAVE BUT WISH YOU DID? I started playing piano when I was maybe 12. I had always wanted to, but it just wasn’t in the budget until I was older. I still play today, and I can read music really slowly, but I am not a very good pianist. I always wanted to be the one during the holidays that everyone crowded around to all sing popular songs, but I just never got there. I wish that playing piano came easily to me, but I still play anyway because it makes me happy. No one gets to hear it, but that’s ok with me.

5. WHAT IS TRUE HAPPINESS TO YOU? True happiness is being able to recognize the important moments in each day. The more in tune I am with my priorities and goals then the better I am at making space for the moments that really matter. I truly believe that happiness is all about everyday experiences and how we choose to interact and react. The more we engage in life the more it gives back to us, and that helps create a strong foundation of happy moments that you can fall back on when life gets challenging.

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Holl & Lane is all about living authentically you, sharing your honest lives, and supporting one another in trials and triumphs.

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HOLL AND

LANE A SA N C T UA RY FOR S O U L-FI LLE D STORI E S HO LLA ND LA NE MAG.CO M

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