This is why we cant have nice things. We dont take care of them. Take care of your things and you will have nice things.

   I have made it a goal to take care of myself. In the the past I have always thought that meant pampering oneself. but I have since learned that is not the case. Taking care of things that are important is how we have nice things that we value. I believe its exactly the same when it comes to taking care of our mind, body, and spirit.
   In an effort to take care of my mind, I finally sought out help. For the first time in my life I was completely honest with another person (two actually, My therapist and Devin) about what goes on in my head, how I feel and what to do about it. It feels so freeing. I have felt a definite push from the Lord to use my experience to help other people. I am growing.
   To take care of my body, this has been a challenge for me often, in the past. But wouldn't you know? once I seriously started to take care of my mind guess what followed very naturally? Taking care of my body. I saw my Dr about my blood pressure and through that discovered my good cholesterol is low. The only way I can bring it up is to get exercise regularly. He gave me pretty serious instructions about that, and it made it easier for me to follow them, having the goal be to bring up my good cholesterol rather then a number on the scale or even days or weeks of exercise. I have a goal to work out for at least 30 min today. Tomorrow I will have the same goal, and the next day the same thing. Breaking it up into one day at a time has made all the difference for me. If I miss my goal today I don't have to wait another 7 days to complete my goal of working out everyday. And guess what? I haven't missed a day in 10 days! I have lost 6 pounds. But that's not my goal. And my original intent in going to see a therapist wasn't even for me. It was to find someone for my kids. Turns out I actually need and want it.
   Taking care of my spirit is another positive byproduct of everything else I am doing. My goal this year is to take care of myself (that"s been my goal since I turned 30, three years ago) and to try my best to be Christ like. This directly relates to everything else. I didn't feel Christ like when I was filled with rage. On the outside I think I did a good job of faking it. But faking it is not in my belief like Jesus Christ at all. That's not to say I can't be human and have a bad day. I can and do. But being honest with myself and my family and taking the best care I can of myself seems more like honoring my God then pretending and insisting I am fine when I am not.

A new dawn

     Personal Revolution

Hope seeps in filling the space where anguish once resided.

     Each new day welcome and devoured, 

like mornings first rays of penetrating light.

               Beauty sprouts from tender cracks pain once ripped open,

      Exposing honesty and fresh perspective.

I will eventually write a sister poem to go along with that one. but I wanted to explain first.
I have gone through some pretty tough personal evaluation and discovery over the past two or so years and discovered I have been depressed for a very long time. I think at first possibly as a teenager I was able to find coping mechanisms. Some healthy, like good friends and some really not so healthy. over the years its come and gone. Some times sneaking up and crushing me at the peak of when I am doing my best to manage it. I am lucky to have a few specific people who know me so well that they can tell long before I can that something is up. and that support me in my every move. I was managing really well for probably the longest stretch in my life till sometime during my second pregnancy. I have always known this but reading back over my journals and blog about those years helped open my eyes. The biggest thing though was talking to the people closest to me over the past two years. I started to see that they knew me in their memory differently then I am now, but it seemed familiar. like the person they knew was a long lost friend I wanted to be like. I tried. don't get me wrong lots of good personal growth has come out of the last few years. but its also a time I am anxious to leave behind. And get in touch with the person who was inadvertently left behind and shouldn't have been. After Mikelle was born I was always angry and irritated. Occasionally I would have a good day but it took A LOT and was a rarity. I have since realized that is not reality. The world, My world is not actually horrible. I just couldn't see it clearly. I was looking at it through depression. It snuck its evil head in and got worse and worse over the years since then. For me depression does not make me feel sad and forlorn, or even make me cry. Instead I go from 0 to 60 real quick! I call it Red Mad. its rage. I want nothing more then to punch the wall and scream. Some times I would. I still feel sort of embarrassed about that. But the reason I am writing is because my therapist suggested it. Yup! I see a therapist, and I think its amazing and wonderful. I tried writing and it actually helps. And I couldn't let this poor blog sit there with all the depressed Tali stuff and never share the real Tali stuff that couldn't compete with the depression for the stage.
I am doing much better. I am managing it. I am not angry. I am mentally healthy and at peace.

I am writing again because....

Between two realities

A comfortable secure place
despite boiling turmoil
existed.

Denial.

Turmoil broke through replacing
My comfort with
darkness.

Drowning.

Anger, fear, anxiety, aggression
Bitter, pain, guilt
Shame.

Depression.


One Two Three Four
Five Six Seven
Eight.

Dark.

Years spent struggling with
That terrible dark
Reality.

Done.

   In every place I have lived that was not a rental, I have written on the walls at some point or another. Some times silly meaningless things and other times things I wanted to hide there for some unsuspecting person I imagined would find it later. Maybe it was a small motivational note, sometimes a confession, a poem or other times lyrics to songs I found meaning in. As a young girl it was on the Cow Shed with the chalk used on the milking cows udder, as a bit older it was on the inside of the dry wall in my room in Washington, then again as a bit older girl in my parents home in Salt Lake City, and again in Our first home we bought after we got married during the major kitchen overhaul, and now I am in a new home with an empty slate... What to write? where and when to write it? AH! So much pressure! not really. I am sure one day it will feel right. Just for now, please don't tell my kids! they seem to have already picked up on the habit and have not figured out how to do it inconspicuously. The only way to do it, is on the inside. They better not be taking my walls apart to do that! But if you know my Girls you probably know as well as I do its only a matter of time.
   I have written in a journal off and on, I use to really love that but now it takes more time to get into the zone and write freely then it does to just pick up my phone and write. I have oodles of lists and journal entries on my phone in the note pad.
   All my poetry that I wrote on paper years ago and kept is in a chest with a bunch of other important type papers. I "write" poems in my head all the time usually in the shower or driving and then they are gone by the time I can write.
I want to write poetry again. Or write it DOWN again.
   I am working on writing down my life story. It's unedited and not intended for public consumption. Mostly its my way of letting go of some things and processing others. As well as for my kids and husband to know everything I can remember about me, Maybe give them clues as to why I am the way I am and what my life was like, including the parts that don't involve them. They will get it when I have passed, and it will be up to them what they share and with whom.
   I always have words in my head. Always.