Thoughts, on the eve of my 40th birthday

This is one of the few times in my life where I'm not dreading my birthday. Maybe because I don't care about all of the other stuff I used to care about. Or because I have special plans tomorrow and a hot outfit and hairstyle (that will hopefully work out). Being the center of attention, which birthdays inevitably bring, always make me uncomfortable, but maybe it won't be so bad this time.

I know that people don't understand why the "looking young" thing always bothered me, but maybe I've never explained it. It's not about how I feel about it, it's how other people have reacted that's the problem. It would be fine if it was something that started recently, because I don't actually want to look "old". Having a young body and face is a good thing. But these comments have been happening since I was 13 years old. I was finally a teenager (and that's a big deal to a girl) and some waitress in a restaurant said she thought I was only 10. It wasn't a compliment. I never even thought about how I looked before then. But that really bothered me. And when I was Sweet 16 (another milestone) someone said I looked like a little kid. I didn't even get to be a teenager? And the worst thing was on my 18th birthday when I went out to a club to celebrate with my cousin and one girl said she thought I was only 12 the whole time. No guys wanted to dance with me. I felt like there was something wrong with me. All of these things were also happening during the years when I was being made fun of for my nose and being told I was boring for being quiet. Everything about me was odd to other people, so I thought I was just made wrong. And yeah, depression started to creep in, although I didn't know it yet. I didn't have low self-esteem, I had no self-esteem.

As an adult it was only annoying when people thought I was lying about my age or looked at me like I had two heads (like there's something wrong with me for looking the way I look) or acted like I was deceiving them because their perception of me was proven wrong. And I understand that online, people only see photos and you can't always tell someone's age, but my graduation years for high school and college are right there on my profile page and I post about growing up in the 80s, so I'm sorry, but there really shouldn't be any reason for someone not to know by now.

And at this point, I'm not going to worry about what other people think. They can believe what they want to believe. I don't need to prove anything. Their perception of me doesn't determine reality. My age is just the number of years I've been alive. Which is a lot, considering. And lots of people look younger than what they are...it's very common and not a strange thing. We are who we are.

The only hard part about tomorrow will be thinking of my dog, Lazy. She died on my birthday in 2011. Something about her popped up in my FB memories yesterday, regarding her last days, and it hit me so hard and brought back the pain and grief. I can't let myself think of that time. She was like my child...I couldn't fathom life without her. But we all kept living. And the world kept turning. But I know we all still think of her. She was the sweetest dog.

Dreams

I realized something important today. I have accomplished many of my dreams. Maybe on a smaller scale than expected or through a different route than planned, but I've done it.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist and a writer. I was better at art and enjoyed drawing people and clothing, so I went to college for fashion design. I expected to become a fashion illustrator, but I wanted to learn how to create a garment from start to finish, to get an overall education in the field. So I learned sewing and pattern-making and draping design and garment construction. But I also learned figure drawing and painting skills and how to mix colors and create a composition. I learned fashion history and art history and took a photography course (with a camera that had film that needed developed, which we did ourselves).

I learned what I needed to learn, which was my intention with college. It was never about money or a job or becoming some famous designer. It was about learning and become proficient at my craft. I didn't think about getting a job until right before I graduated. My plan was to get a job in the Philly area so that I wouldn't have to move back home. But it didn't happen. I went to interviews for months (commuting from home) and got the same response from the companies: I had the right skills and qualifications and the other employees liked me, but I didn't have enough experience. So they always went with someone who did. I was right out of college, of course I had no industry experience. My 3 month internship wasn't enough and retail experience didn't count. I was turned down for every job and fell off of the path that I was on. That's what it felt like. The course that I expected and planned for my life didn't happen. I couldn't keep going that way, I had no money, no car (I had been borrowing my parents' or my dad drove me). So I got a job at home...and another.

I ended up working in a bridal shop as a seamstress. I never enjoyed sewing, but I was good at it and learned a lot from that job. I made a few custom pieces for people and learned how to alter existing styles. I also saved up enough money to buy my own car. Eventually the shop closed down and I got another job in retail (commission sales), but with the knowledge I learned as a seamstress, I began to make custom dresses for friends and coworkers. I even sold a few original designs on ebay. That's how my moniker "NicRen Designs" was born. I needed a label for my designs and used the first 3 letters of my first and middle names. In college, I learned how to do pricing and determine the cost of creating a garment, so I used those worksheets as a basis for how much to charge customers. I cut down my hours at my job to pursue this, while I was saving money to get my own place.

I couldn't get a job in the design industry, so I created my own. I did it, I was a designer. My design business never made enough money to live off of, but I understood that it would take time. However, I had other plans. I wanted to move away from my hometown...and so I did. On my own, without any friends or family in the new city. It was very hard. But my dad told me he was proud of me for not giving up on what I wanted and going after it.

I still did fashion design work here and there and altered all of the dresses for my sister's wedding. But it was around that time that I started to develop severe anxiety, and sewing triggered it. It still does. People told me that I was wasting my degree by not pursuing fashion, but design is something that lives inside of me, something that I can do anywhere, anytime, during the course of my life. A degree is just paper. What I learned was what's important, and I'll always have that. But I needed a break.

Which brings me to my 2nd dream: to become a writer. I think part of the reason I didn't pursue it when I was younger, was because I didn't think I was good enough. I always loved to write and kept journals and wrote short stories and songs and poems. I'm a quiet person, so that was how I expressed myself. After I got laid off from my job in 2009, I took some time to explore what I wanted to do next. I found some freelance writing opportunities and started writing for Examiner.com. They paid by page views, so I had to learn how to self-promote on social media to get more traffic to my articles. It was never about the money, of course, but it would have been nice to make a living doing that. But from the feedback that I saw from other writers, it was not possible manifest a large income from that company. It would have to be a hobby or for experience.

I also did guest posts on other sites and had my own music blog and personal blog. I got a lot of great feedback from those and I felt like I actually was a better writer than I gave myself credit for in the past. Or at least, I became one.

After moving back home again in 2012, I didn't work for a year. I was in a bad place mentally and physically, dealing with family deaths, depression, anxiety, recovering from being severely underweight. I felt like a failure because I couldn't pay my bills or afford my apartment anymore. Living successfully on my own was another path I fell off of. But being home was what I needed and put me on the path to my next dream: raising kids.

I always wanted kids. Always. There was never a question about it. I was around kids my whole life and enjoyed babysitting and taking care of other people. I'm a nurturer. I always planned on getting married and having kids. When so many relationships failed, the marriage idea didn't seem as important and having kids was all that mattered. But I wasn't going to just have kids by some random guy. It still had to be right for me. Obviously, it hasn't happened. I'm getting older and it scares me to think that it won't happen because my body will no longer be able to do it. I'm almost 40. But I won't give up hope yet.

So, before my niece was born, my sister asked me if I wanted to be her full-time nanny. Of course I did, but I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to handle a full-time job again (I was still having issues with depression and anxiety). I started taking care of my niece on my own when she was 2 months old. It was hard, but taking care of kids is a lot of work and that was expected. I also had a new puppy at home that I was training, so that added to the stress. But I did it. My niece and I have a special bond and it's been wonderful to watch her grow up and learn new things. When my nephew came along, I took care of him too. Taking care of a newborn and a 1 1/2 year old is a special kind of challenge. Potty-training, changing diapers, all of the feedings, tantrums...it's a lot. My niece has asthma, so there are special circumstances related to that as well. I struggled but eventually found my rhythm.

It's been almost 5 years since I became a nanny. And this is the most rewarding job I've ever had. The only one where I've felt like I had a purpose and made a difference in someone's life. I love those kids like my own. Even when they're behaving like little monsters. But my time with them is coming to an end. There are changes happening beyond my control, and honestly, I need more money. If I want to move forward with my life, I need to change as well.

It's scary to think of getting a new job, starting over, in a place with new people. I haven't worked in a company setting in 10 years. But it hurts more to think of not being with the kids every day. I'm not coping well with it. I feel like I'm giving away my kids. But I just have to deal with it and adapt.

I don't think I can get a job working with other kids. And not have to eventually give them up too. I don't know if that's best anyway. I need to concentrate on myself for a little while, take care of my needs instead of putting everyone else first. Something with less stress...but still fulfilling. I don't know what that is yet. I know what I don't want and what would be unhealthy for me. But what is the best career path?

And honestly, I'm not striving to have a "career". That's not what motivates me. I need money to pay bills and buy things and finally get my own place again. And I want to travel and go to concerts and have adventures. But through it all, I want a family of my own. I want a quiet, peaceful life. Not going to meetings or racing from one thing to the next. Maybe my own business, maybe not. But whatever it is, I have to be content and regularly have some time away from people and social activities.

There are so many things I'd like to do and so many things I've already done. I love promoting bands online and that would probably be my ideal job right now. So I'm looking into some options. But in the meantime, getting out of debt is a major focus, as well as managing my mental health issues better.

We all have our goals and our strengths. What works for others may not work for me. When there's something I want, I go after it with everything I have. But my heart has to be in it. I'm still trying to find what makes my heart happy.

Big steps

I took a big step yesterday. But let me backtrack and explain why it was so monumental...

I used to hate my profile, the way my face looks from the side. That goes back to when I was a kid and got made fun of because of my nose. I was even asked if I was going to get plastic surgery when I grew up. If people who look like me and are supposed to love me unconditionally think that there's something wrong with me, then there must be, right? And not just family, but strangers too, laughing at me and making comments. After years of that, I began to see it as this horrible deformation on my face. I was so young, just a child, then a teenager. It shaped my perceptions of beauty and acceptance. I was already a different color than almost everyone in school, I dressed differently and spoke differently than the black kids at other schools. I fit in nowhere. And I felt ugly.

I began to see myself as a monster. I couldn't understand how anyone could stand to look at me from the side. From the front, I was ok, even pretty. Although my nose still disgusted me. But mostly I ignored it. This was the 90s, before smartphone selfies and filters and contouring with makeup. What you saw was what you got.

I remember in college, we had to draw portraits of each other for one of my classes. It had to be the profile view. I was so terrified and had to stop the panic. I didn't want my partner to see me that way. This was a guy I didn't know well. What would he think? That I'm ugly, that it's just what black people look like (big lips, big noses)? I didn't know. But I sat for it. And he did a really good job. I looked like me, but not ugly or deformed. That's when I started to think that maybe other people didn't see me the way I saw myself.

Another experience from my college days was when my then-boyfriend tapped my nose and said it was cute. I was shocked. No one ever said that to me before. I don't think I completely believed him, but I know he was being honest about how he felt. He accepted me and even LIKED my flaws. I still think about that moment, years later.

But it took me well into my 30s to actually accept that part of me and not be disgusted or uncomfortable by it. First by mainly ignoring it and concentrating on my good points and the features that I liked about myself (my eyes, my smile). Then eventually, I just accepted it as part of me and didn't care what others thought. It's how I look. Unless I actually want to get surgery, this is the way I am. I don't want to look like anyone else or not recognize myself. I guess one good thing about me is that I never compared myself to girls in magazines or online or felt inadequate that way. I never wanted be to anyone else or coveted what they had. Even when I hated myself the most and was severely depressed, I didn't want to be another person. Just a different person than I was feeling inside. A better version of myself.

I've posted a few photos of myself from the side on Facebook and Instagram in the past few years, but I still felt nervous about it and preferred my front view or a 3/4 view of my face. I'd never used a profile view for a profile/avatar pic...until last night. I changed my main Instagram photo to a recent one that I took of my hair from the side (see above). I was happy with the way that hairstyle turned out, and my makeup as well, so I felt like that represented where I was in my life.

I'll admit, I was scared to do it and had to reassure myself that I could change it to something else at any time, if I wasn't happy. But I feel like I made the right choice. It may seem like a little thing, but it's a big step for me. On the path of self-acceptance and self-love.

10 years

I just realized that it's been almost 10 years since I was diagnosed with depression and started treatment for the first time. It was February 2008, when I was 29 (although I had been exhibiting symptoms for at least 15 years before that). My diagnosis was Major Depressive Disorder. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Seasonal Affective Disorder, insomnia, and hypoglycemia soon after. It's been a long and difficult road, on and off medication, filled with rock bottom days, weight fluctuations, and abusive treatment from others. I wasn't on my best behavior either and regret being so defensive and dismissive to former friends. But I also found a support system and people who could relate to my struggles and a strength inside of me that I didn't know I had. Even when I wanted to give up, I didn't. Music was a big part of what helped get me through, sometimes the only thing.

Over the years, my depression dissipated to only a few episodes a year, and I found ways to manage and overcome it much quicker. I studied Cognitive Behavioral Therapy techniques and read a lot of articles and learned from others. I believe I trained my body to fight depression, even when my brain wanted to embrace it. It tried to convince me to give up but it couldn't win anymore. But anxiety was still a big problem and there were times when I was afraid that I would hurt myself. I was more impulsive in that state and in so much internal pain. Antidepressants didn't help that and alprazolam was just temporary. I suffered a lot, for years. There's no other way to put it. It was overwhelming and I had to fight just to function and appear "normal".

I weaned myself off of medication in 2014 and managed (not well) for a few years. In 2016, I decided to ask my new doctor for help and began medication again. It helped, but not enough. So she suggested talk therapy and introduced me to one of the therapists in the office. That was the first time that I had hope that I might one day beat this. Not just live with it but actually overcome it. And I was ready. It wasn't sit-on-a-couch-and-talk-about-your-problems therapy. It was CBT therapy specifically geared toward my particular issues with anxiety. My therapist thought I had already been in therapy because I was so insightful and knew of several techniques. But I hadn't and I didn't know how to implement these tools into my life and restructure my thoughts enough to manage my anxiety. But I learned. I did the homework. I went through the program (about 15 sessions in a year) and felt successful enough to do it on my own. I may eventually do long-term therapy with someone else, but for now, I'm doing well. And I keep striving to be better.

I still have down days and chronic anxiety, but I keep fighting.

I hope you're happy

"I hope you're happy,
I hope you're good.
I hope you get what you wish for,
And you're well understood.

And whatever your progress,
I know you'll be fine.
Because I hope you're happy,
Even if you're not mine." - Blue October

The first couple times that I heard this song, I attributed it to myself - to be happy and understood. To have the things that I wish for. The literal lyrics. But then I started to hear it from the perspective of unrequited love - that I may need to let go and let someone I care about be happy with someone else. I could do it. I have done it in the past. Although I still hope for a better way.

But maybe it's not about either of those things. I know that the intention of the song was a dedication to Jus's ex-wife (and others in his past) to show his support and honor their friendship. And maybe it's more relevant to my past relationships and a way for me to forgive and move forward. With no animosity or blame. Just good wishes for their futures.

Thoughts of my most recent ex-boyfriend go through my mind from time-to-time. They don't bring pain and there's no part of me that wants him back. I've moved on. I closed that door and walked through another one. There were good memories, of course, and I learned a lot about myself from that relationship. I grew stronger after the destruction. Because of it. A phoenix rising. A new beginning. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But it's been 3 years since I've seen him. I haven't dated since. At first, because I needed time to heal and didn't want anyone at all. Now, it's because I'm waiting for the man who is worthy of my love and devotion. My choice.

Early on after the breakup, I told myself that whenever he popped into my head, I should just pray for him. Pray for him to be safe, to have food and a home and peace in his mind. To have no one harm him...and for him not to harm anyone either. He told me once, that he wanted to become a righteous man, to follow God and live by his word. I didn't understand what that meant at the time. I thought being good was enough, but righteousness is a higher level. Something beyond your earthly being. I did research on it, of course. I wanted to understand him. I'm more spiritual than religious myself, and take what I need from different philosophies and religions. So I never thought I could ascend to that level that he spoke of. But I wanted him to. And I believed in him. I could see the good in him, the potential. And I wanted to match him, to be worthy of being with someone so devoted to God. I wanted to be righteous too.

I may never be, but I am better than I was. Through this relationship I learned how to use compassion and mercy and grace. I was there for him through everything. And constantly working on myself. I became closer to God. I became more loving and accepting and forgiving. I ascended to a higher purpose. Unfortunately, he did not and lost his way. Got back into bad habits and old relationships. He betrayed me in every way. But I did what I was meant to do and listened to God and gave my all. I can't regret something that was meant. And something that ultimately made me a better person. That was the true purpose of the relationship. To make me become what I needed to become. To show me the way. And find my strength.

I don't know where he is now or what his life is like. It's been more than a year since I've spoken to him. And he was not in a good place. What he never realized, was that I would have always been there for him. I would have helped him and supported him and made sure he stayed healthy and safe. Even afterward. Even if we could have somehow stayed friends, if he needed me, I would have been there. But he walked away. Time and time again. And I had to let him go. So now, I still pray that he's safe, that he's taken care of and has what he needs. I still pray that he will one day become that man that I saw inside, that glimmer of light in the darkness. That man that God showed to me. That righteous man. Or at least, a good one. A better one. I still believe in him.

He's been in my dreams lately. I don't like when the past visits that way and the dreams made me feel uncomfortable. Sort of bruised my heart. I did love him and that love never goes away. But he was too toxic for my life and it's better for me to be free of it. But I can't ignore these signs. And especially since "I Hope You're Happy" is Blue October's latest single and I've listened to it a lot. And can see it in relation to my ex. It's time, I think, to wish him happiness and pray for a good life. With whomever he chooses to spend it. It's not easy, because there is still hurt in my heart. That he chose someone else over me...and many more since. And I was the loyal one, but I'm still single. It's easy to hold onto the negative emotions. But I don't want to. I want to move forward. I want to be better.

So, I hope you're happy, Joseph. I really do. I pray for you and I hope you have peace and are surrounded by people who love you. I pray for you to have the best life that you can have. I pray for you to be that man I know you are. I see you. I always did. And I release you now. I release you. Live your life. Stay alive. Be free.

- Nikki

Gratitude

If I speak of the things I'm grateful for, maybe it will cast out my doubts. If I concentrate on love, it will overshadow the pain. Depression is trying to creep in but I'm fighting hard not to let it. So many worries, so many lies.

But I'm grateful for the people in my life who have stood by me in the toughest times. Those who support and encourage and compliment me. Those who have told me that I made an impact on their lives. That I've inspired them and helped them learn something new because of my insights. Those who value me and appreciate me and acknowledge me. Those who check up on me and keep me centered. Those who relate to my posts, and I to theirs, so that I know I'm not alone. That I'm not the only one who feels these things and thinks this way. It helps. It matters. It all matters.

I don't ask for much, but I need a lot more than I appear to. I'm independent but needy. I need my personal space, but I also need quality time with people who make me laugh and enjoy life.

I'm grateful for my friendships. For family and pets and music and movies and books. All of the little things and all of the big things. I'm grateful for being taken care of and helped. I'm grateful for everyone I've helped along the way. I'm grateful for You allowing me to become a better person. For seeing You.

I'm grateful for a place to sleep, a house to live in. It may not be ideal or my own, but it's safe and warm. I'm grateful for the kids in my life. I'm grateful for all that You brought me. I'm grateful for my strength and courage to overcome my fears and keep living, keep improving. I'm grateful for You pulling me out of bad relationships when you did. I'm grateful for the lessons I've learned and the strength I've gained because of these incidents. I'm grateful for the love I shared with others and the memories made, even if they were temporary.

I'm grateful for the people who haven't given up on me. Who can handle me. Who understand, or try to.

I'm grateful for the love I receive. And the love I give.

'Twas the afternoon before Christmas: Thoughts

I've been working really hard on keeping a positive outlook. Trying to inspire others while I improve myself. It's a fight sometimes. And to be honest, I'm really struggling right now. The usual: generalized anxiety, depression, grief, Seasonal Affective Disorder, holiday busyness and stress. With some dermatillomania and hypoglycemia thrown in. I haven't been eating as well as I should, haven't been exercising, haven't been using my CBT tools as effectively as I should, haven't been writing. I've been so tired, physically and emotionally. Completely drained. But I'm not giving up.

Being in a house full of people is very difficult because the noise and food smells and barrage of emotions from others overwhelms me. My senses are very heightened, especially when I'm already not feeling well. Yesterday was painful. And I can't really talk about because they don't understand. They don't feel it. "You shouldn't feel like that if it's family." But that doesn't matter, the effect is the same. But I just have to take time away from everything and sit in the quiet, alone. It's the only way I can survive.

This time of year is always hard. So many memories in my head, missing those who aren't here any longer. For a long time after my aunt died, I dreaded Christmas and didn't see the point of celebrating. I couldn't feel happy because there was so much pain associated with it. She died 4 days after Christmas in 2006 and Christmas Day was the last time that I saw her. And with all the family passings that happened in the following years - many during the winter months and near holidays - it became increasingly difficult.

See, Christmas used to be my favorite holiday, something that I looked forward to, ever since I was a kid. Not just about gifts, but the whole celebration of it. The tree, the decorations, the songs, the emotions in the air. Now I feel a slight sense of panic when the stores start laying out the Christmas decorations or playing holiday tunes (too early, in my opinion). My mind tells me, "I'm not ready! I'm not ready! I'm not ready!" But it's not Christmas that I'm not ready for as much as what comes after. The 29th.

The past few years, however, I've been able to enjoy the holidays again. Maybe because I have so many nieces and nephews to buy presents for and giving is the one thing that makes me happiest. Every year I'm so focused on everyone else, that I forget that I will be receiving gifts too. Seriously, every year. I don't think about it until closer to the day and then I think, "Oh, that's right..." I'm not a materialistic person and don't ask for much (ever), so when people think of me and give me something from their heart, it means a lot. No matter what it is, I'm always grateful. But the best feeling is when I make someone else happy. I'm pretty good at finding gifts for people because I listen and pay attention to what they like. That's important - getting them something that represents them or their needs. I try to see it from their perspective and imagine their reaction. I never have much money but I do my best. I'm pretty good at finding bargains too.

This year, I feel pretty good about Christmas (besides the anxiety stuff). I'm not dreading the holiday because I'm excited to see how the kids will react to what I bought. And I tried to get the adults things they could use (and a few fun things).

I'm also looking forward to New Year's Eve. That holiday always gave me mixed feelings because I was always single and never had a kiss at midnight (until recently). I went to parties, concerts, had fun...but never felt satisfied. I'm not one for kissing strangers or bringing a date just to say I have a date. I can do it on my own. But I wish I didn't have to. There is someone I'm interested in, a good man who appreciates and values me. But we're just friends and I'm not sure how he feels or what he wants. Whether he's even ready for me. I could ask...but I want it to be his choice. I need someone who will choose me...and stay. I'm happy with our friendship but I do want more. And so, I pray for a kiss at midnight. With this man who makes my heart skip a beat (has that even happened so often with anyone else?) and my soul smile. But I accept that it may not be the right time and more work may need to be done on this situation. I'm not rushing this. I'm not chasing. It's necessary to do this the right way, a different way, so that my past doesn’t repeat itself. If you want something different, you have to do something different.

I have many insecurities and fears, but I also have hope and faith. I believe. And I'm not giving up. I deserve to be happy. It's my time.

Lots of love to anyone who reads this.
Have a Merry Christmas!