"I wonder why the obligation to declare one’s purpose exists at all" - T. Allen-Mercado

Upon my lifelong quest to discover who I really am, and in the aftermath of my most recent mental break, I read the Moms of Hue post (which I encourage you all to do) of my blog sister T. Allen-Mercado, and was moved into expression...

Tameka, I didn't know that we were allowed to wonder this or to even question it at all. So much weight is placed on defining one's life's purpose, building a career, living one's destiny. What do those things even mean? Ever since I was accepted to Cal, I have felt pushed and prodded to define my life's purpose, and before I was accepted to Cal, I thought I already had. I had always loved to write, was scolded by my grandmother for "never wanting to do nothin' but write", was exposed to journalism in school, and so that's what I wanted to do with my life back then. I wanted to become a journalist. I wanted to become an investigative reporter, a creator of "new media" before there was New Media - in an effort to show the world what good could be found in the inner city. To create a space for my own voice to yell out from beneath the concrete and be heard.

Now, with those demanding questions that you spoke of being hurled at me - So, what are you doing now that you've graduated? What can you do with a degree in Gender & Women's Studies? So, you wanna do social work? What kind of job are you looking for? You're not going to grad school? Why not? Administrative Assistant? Oh. - And the judgmental statements - $10 an hour is better than $0 an hour/ Did you think you were gonna come right outta college and be the CEO of a fortune 500 company?/ I thought you had drive and determination/ Your minimal salary requirement is too high. It all has shattered my self confidence and my self esteem, and ingrained in me that a life without purpose is a life that isn't worth living.

After revealing my lack of life's purpose and my belief that $10 an hour was not going to pay rent in a safe environment, I was dumped by the person that I thought understood my struggle. Not only dumped, but kicked while I was down... lack of drive and determination, remember? This morning, I found myself on a 24 hr crisis phone line, crying to a man asking me to tell him what was wrong when I had no words, feeling 5150ish.

I guess I say all of this to say that I hate the quest for the American Dream. Like your wondering about purpose itself, I hate the very fact that there is a quest for the American Dream because its just a trope to drive the world towards submission and homogeneity, and those who resist or get lost in the hype, go insane.

Thank you Ms. Tameka for intrusting your designs to me, and thank all of you ladies for being the greatest global support team that a girl could have. If you want to get in on the fun and self love, give Renee, Tara and T.Allen Mercado a visit. Be sure to let me know if you do so that I can come over and see what great things you have decided to impliment just for YOU!

At the very least, I have been a very naughty girl. In August I talked about shaping up; about putting myself and my health back on the priority list. And then came life, as it always does. Followed by procrastination, as it sometimes does. I just can't get started if I am not doing exactly what "I" wanna do as far as workout activities and plans. What I really have a desire to do is go back to Curves, which just isn't an option right now. So I have chosen to not take up any activities at all. Part of me is totally fine with this, but then there is the other part of me that really does want to get back to being "me". To shed this here body and reclaim the one that I work better in. Sadly, that is NOT enough motivation for me to get out of my own way when it comes to fitness. I am far from being sedentary, but still, not as active as I could be.

So, what now? Stay in the fight, that's what! I'll set new goals and try once more. At the end of the day, when I am truly ready to get fit, I will.

Last week, I didn't show much discipline when it came to my shape-up journey. That's what I'm gonna call this whole weight loss thing. I realize that I don't want to focus on weight alone, but on my life as a whole. My friend Traci brought a new concept to my attention concerning life and growth. One of chasing metamorphosis. Her quest to transform into the beautiful butterfly that she is destined to be, works to inspire me to do the same. It takes work, but what of importance doesn't? As we all know, life is a constant work in progress so there are many chances to find the right path for self, and even more chances to overcome the whole trial and error of experiences past.

I am recommitting myself to myself; meaning, I am going to start anew this week. The taupes has loosened it's hold on me a bit so my thinking is becoming clearer day by day, and with clarity brings new drive. So, back on the journey I go.

Nearly two years ago I decided that I was going to slim down. It was October 2007, and I found myself weighing 161 lbs. That was the most that I had ever weighed. Not too bad, right? I had always wanted to gain weight when I was a young size 5, but after seeing myself in the company Halloween photos, I wasn't too happy about what 161 lbs was looking like on my 5'1 frame. I signed on at Curves and went faithfully 3x a week, which paid off for me significantly. I dropped down to 146 lbs in just a few months. I felt really good about my progress and was looking forward to making it all the way to my goal weight of 125 lbs.

Then...

I was laid off from my job, and I let it affect my participation at Curves, and the way I ate. I went from healthy food choices back to the drive through, and from working out 3 days a week to just walking from class to class while on campus. I'm sure you know what happened next. The weight came back, and it brought 5 more friend pounds with it! The weight didn't return right away, but ever since I fell off the wagon in February 2008, my weight has been consistently on the rise.

After laying in bed all night waiting for sleep to come, and reading, and crocheting, and watching informercials, and checking emails, and arguing with myself over if I should attempt to force sleep upon myself at 4am, I made a spontaneous decision... to chase after the 'old me' again. Now, I know that life's goal should be to evolve; to become a better person than you once were. However, sometimes what we really need is the opposite. Sometimes life transforms us into people who are too different from the people of yesteryear. Haven't you even looked back at your life, and the you that you used to be, and felt the need to reground yourself? Well, that's sorta what happened to me this morning. I took a long look at the Barbara that I am right now and decided that I don't really like her. She isn't the "me" that I really wanna be. She's stuck in translation. The Barbara that I love existed before baby... before fear... she also existed within a 115 lb body that was healthy, muscular and welcomed a good challenge.

So, again, I have decided its time for me to slim down. No Curves this time, but I will revisit another program that helped me be successful. This program isn't really a program, but a social network that provides community, resources and tools, and support from folks who are in search of the same thing that you are. I'm talking about Sparkpeople.com. There, you can chart your weight loss, track and plan your meals, create a fitness routine, and jumpstart your motivation by interacting with others who are on the same path. There are even teams/groups available that you can join to help you find the support you need to reach your goals, whether its finding a buddy in your area to workout with or just another person to cheer you on. Best of all, these services are 100% free!

This morning I signed in for the first time in a year and a half, reintoduced myself and was welcomed back instantly by people who are still in the fight for good health. I am looking forward to getting readdicted to tracking my meals and earning points for keeping to my workouts. In fact, I started tracking today and I will do my first workout tonight!! After Miss J is alseep, I'm gonna pop in my Taebo dvd and work up a black sweat with Billy Blanks.

You can check out Sparkpeople if you would like to add a little virtual support to your routine, or hook up with workout buddies. Also, you can check out my profile here.

"happy pills have a way of numbing the passion it takes to string together thoughts and ideas"

I think Tameka was right. I wrote about my return to happy pills here, and since then, I've pretty much left them in the bottle. I refilled my prescription in hopes of restarting my routine today, but I'm just not so sure I want to. The Celexa started off ok. I didn't wanna give myself a placebo effect so I tried to view them as being sort of like a vitamin. That way, if I started to feel better, it wouldn't be because I desperately wanted the meds to work, but because they were working. I did feel a little better in terms of enjoying Miss J more, but it was semi-overshadowed by a roller-coaster of emotions. The ups and downs that first month brought had my doctor rethinking Celexa as a choice. Then, just like that, I was back to my old self again. Not the old self before depression and ill feelings because that self is never old, but back to my natural state of being irritably depressed. It was then that I missed a day's dosage, which turned into a few more day's dosages, which turned into me having a day of the jitters like a dope fiend.

I'll be seeing my doctor next week to see what the next steps should be, and I'm sure she'll have a lot to say about me suddenly stopping, but then again, I always suddenly stop when I feel like I'm wasting my time so I'm sure she's probably used to it by now. I've made the decision that I should just wait until I see her before cracking open that bottle back open and diving into the next 30 days, just in case we both decide that I should move on to the next drug or try yet another approach. You know, I'm starting to feel like there is some part of my brain that is un-fixable. I feel like "this" just is and I just need to figure out ways to make it work for me instead of against me. We'll see what happens...

Its my 44th day on drugs. Drug of force choice? That would be Celexa. I've been on the Celexa trip before, back after giving birth to Miss J. My pregnancy was great physically, but mentally? Now that was a completely different story. Changing hormones, paired with a stressful home sittation, and then add in an inconsiderate boyfriend, on top of an already existent mental condition... it was enough to land me in therapy. With a very good therapist might I add. One that didn't just sit across from me and agree with how fucked up my life actually was, or repeatedly ask me how I make it from day to day, or pick their jaw up off the floor long enough to ask me when my book was coming out, after hearing my story. Nope, she provided insight, guidence, and a bit of her own life story as a way of helping me effectively work through my issues. It was great! But then, I went back to school, which required me to relocate to a different county, which resulted in me losing her as a source of support. Enter: Celexa.

After my insurance company's discontinued coverage of the drug and my trails and errors with Paxil and Prozac, I swore off drug therapy for good. Why commit myself to my doctor's pet drugs when they did nothing but make me wanna sleep all day. Hell, I could do that without the drugs! And besides, drugs don't cure depression all by themselves. Its a collective effort between drug and behavioral therapy (which I could never find time in my single mommy - full time student schedule for). So, I made the decision to fight depression naturally. To let it just run its course; to just have its on space; to just come and go as it pleased. This may seem like a brilliant idea in theory. Not so much in practice, especially when you choose to do it alone.

To most, I am a very easy going person. Very friendly and likable. Somewhat shy and withdrawn at times. But for the most part, a decent and loyal human being. To the public that is the mask that I wear, and once behind closed doors, the mast is discarded and the terrified, insecure, severly depressed, often suicidal, irritable, traumatized, needy and helpless feeling, life skill-less Barbara emerges. The Barbara that is always sad and in hiding from the world. The Barbara who hasn't yet found her place, her calling, and wonders if there even is such a place or calling set aside for her. The Barbara who has been abandoned due to the natural cycle of life and death. The Barbara who muffles her cries and silently begs for someone with a warm and compassionate heart to want to lend their helping hand just as much as she needs to accept it.

A very tormented way to live exist.

Realizing that my mental state was in a scary place, I had to think long and hard about just what to do about it. I desire a specific type of behavioral therapy, from a therapist who is trained in very specific areas and from a specific background, which takes time and energy to pin point. So then, do I just give in and accept the drugs? Things were at a point where I felt like I had no choice but to do so. Things had started up again with Miss J's dad, its an absolute must that I finish up my classes this year and move past this life that I have been rooted in for the past 7 years, and what about my relationship with my daughter? Truth is... I love her to death, but I grew to not like her... AT ALL. Life definitely could not continue on this path... its just not me... or at least, I wish it wasn't me.

So, here I am. Going on a journey that I have taken before, in hopes of becoming a better me, for me, and for my little girl. As a result, I have been able to show my love to her, the way that I used to. The way that I do when I am not stuck inside myself and feeling like life is unlivable. There have been some very bad days and there have been some fantastic days, within this 44 day period. We will see what the next 14 days brings me and if my unconventional brain will finally strike a happy balance. Stay tuned...

This past Easter weekend, Miss J and I went to an event that is held each year in the Bay Area called Eggster. We enjoyed checking out all the booths that were set up on the UC Berkeley campus, which provided artistic activities and cool science projects and information. Cal's Student Parent Association for Recruitment & Retention, also known as SPARR, even coreographed a moonwalk station for the kids that encouraged them to collect as many moon rocks as they could (which were really silver painted plastic eggs filled with treats). I trailed Miss J, arms overflowing with art project after art project, and mini basket of plastic egg after plastic egg, as she gathered with friends and had her knowledge tested on dental hygiene at a booth that was giving free floride treatments to the children and another booth that had human organs on display.

Miss J was fascinated with the two lungs and the two very different livers that lie in a tray in a shallow bath. She put on two latex gloves and identified which of the livers was healthy and which of the lungs was unhealthy. Falling even more deeply fascinated with her discovery of the connection between the unhealthiness of the lung and smoking. I've had these talks with her before about smoking and its affects, as she has tried to understand why, if smoking is so bad, that her aunt does it. Well, she got a chance to school asked her.

As if I had not already eatten enough ham, greens, yams, potato salad, corn bread muffins and banana pudding at my own house during Easter dinner, I whipped up a couple of plates and headed over to my sister in-law's house to collect some of her bbq ribs... which I had every intention on saving for the next day, but instead ended up savoring later that night. Anyhoo... as we were gearing up to leave, my sister in-law and a cousin decided to light up their cigarettes. Miss J advanced toward them talking and I began to over talking her, saying, "uh uh, come back this way. Talk to your Lee Lee from over here." As Miss J continued, my sister in-law couldn't make out what she was saying above the music and laughter that was going on in the house. So, I asked Miss J to tell me what she was trying to tell her aunt.

Miss J: Um... you remember the black stuff?

Me: Black stuff? What black stuff?

Miss J: From smoking?

Me: Oh! Yes (I say with a smile)

She turned and proceeded to tell her aunt about how, if she continued to smoke a lot, then her lungs were gonna be all black and brown and mushy and nasty, because smoking isn't healthy. And when you smoke your lungs become unhealthy. My sister in-law thought this information was hilarious coming from a soon-to-be 6 year old, and told her that what she had said was very true... then continued to puff on her cigarette.

Nine months ago I had my second breast ultrasound, and six months before that I had my first.

The First Encounter...

During my physical exam, my doctor was in the middle of reminding me of what to look for during a self breast exam when her fingers rolled over it. A small lump that felt like a marble in comparison to the natural lumps inside of my young breasts. Then the questioning began... Have you felt this before? Its possible, or not, since I had not been examining myself each month like I'm suppose to and since that was her first time feeling it. Did you breastfeed? No, my sweet little baby was given a pacifier and bottle in the hospital before I could get to her and she got nipple confusion. (why she was no immediately given to me after birth is another story for another post)

Ok, then that must be it. She felt that since the lump was near my nipple that I probably just had a blocked duct, but she wanted to make sure. She got the necessary paperwork together and I scheduled an appointment. I was anxious about finding out exactly what this lump was. Was it just a blocked duct? Was it cancer? If so, was it something that could be removed? Was I gonna have to lose my breast? What exactly was I going to be dealing with here? After the doctor viewed the ultrasound photos he didn't feel that we were dealing with cancer, but wanted me to keep an eye on it and come back in six months.

Ultrasound Revisited...

The second visit was much like the first. The blue and white gown opened in the front. The warm jelly. The wand circling and pressing on my breast. The clicks of the mechine. The reviewing of the photos and the same conclusions from the doctor.

Third Time Around...

Upon reviewing the photos, the doctor still has no real idea of what has nestled itself inside of my breast, but the good news is that whatever it is, it has remained the same size this entire time, which means good news. I have options. I can just monitor it. I can have a biopsy. If its a cyst, as my doctor thinks, I can have it removed by inserting a needle into it. I am curious to know what it is, so I may request a biopsy, just to be on the safe side, and if it turns out to just be a cyst I will opt to have it removed. My brain is much too impaired to remember to exam it religiously and I will just feel better knowing that it, and anything else that shouldn't be, isn't there. My family history gives me enough cancer anxiety as it is.

Now, having just said that, you ladies be sure to keep up with your breast health... not just during Breast Cancer Awareness month!