What happens when the lens you have spent most of your adult life looking through is changed? When your personal narrative – the one of who we are and how we became to be – is given a thorough autopsy? When the role we play, whether it be victims, fighters, survivors, rebels, caregivers, new improved versions, or a mix is called into question? When the lenses keep flipping and what you see changes and hence begins to unravel what you know and what you believe?

I feel like for the first time, I left the perch I’ve stood on so long and am now taking a 360 degree look at my life. It has been shocking to see how different things look at different angles. I have chosen to bite the forbidden fruit and accept the knowledge for better and for worse. Things are not at all what they seemed to be.

At first there is much anger and resentment when certain realities come into focus. I felt hurt, deceived, and used. But now it is about the moving on, doing the work that needs to be done and dealing with what is. There is a reality in front of me and I get to choose my path. I have the freedom of choice. That right there tells me that I have walked away from the fear, I am standing on both feet and I am starting to trust.

I am also owning what is mine – all my shit that complicates things that shouldn’t be complicated.

This time has been enlightening. I am not only taking notice of my patterns, but others as well. I am enjoying being the observer. I am watching me..and I am watching those around me. I can feel my world being shaken up and the pieces being rearranged in the process and it feels energizing. This is what accepting and embracing change must feel like. I finally let go.

While therapy initiated this lens changing process, it has been the intense therapeutic assessment that has blown the roof off. I asked questions, opened myself up to projective and standard tests, and in 11 days, I begin to get data and answers to a list of specific questions I asked. If you want to get to the core of your shit, in about 6 weeks, you can. But be ready and put on a seat belt, it is exhausting, painful and mind bending. Ink blots gave me nightmares. Need I say more?

My story was opened up, prodded, picked through and explored. I have become a fly on the wall of my own life. In a few weeks, I will get answers that will validate some of my story, add details, alter parts of it and shine a bright light on what is going on in my life. And while I may be the heroine in parts of the story, there will be truths I may not want to hear. And after this there will be lots of work and changes that I will have to own and make. It is going to be a massive head trip. I am all at once excited and fearful of what I will learn.

I feel like I am being vague and I don’t mean to be. If anything it is about choosing to face my demons. I could have stayed on that perch, but I was dying on that perch. I was losing what little there was left of who I am. In 11 days, my narrative will be given to me from an expert in this field.

All I know for now is that the results show a high level of depression that makes them wonder how I am getting out of bed everyday. A depression they think I have walked around with for most of my life. Wow, that is a very different narrative than my own. One I am sure that would puzzle those who know me well. But therein lies what I have rationalized and what is real.

And so I can’t wait to hear the whole story. I think I know who I am. What does my psychological autopsy reveal? 11 days. It can’t come soon enough. I think I am going to try to start reading again – I need a good distraction.

So last week we attempted to make croissants. It was a three day process. There were some scary moments in the baking when butter was pooling our pastry babies. Lessons were learned from that. But, they survived being drowned in butter and as I learned from a friend who sampled them – “there can never be too much butter!”

They really did come out quite well. I also made some pain au chocolat with 70% dark chocolate. Wow.

So, being tired of bread, I think I am going to start dabbling more in pastry. It was quite satisfying. Without further ado, the pastry porn I promised.

Some lovely moments from last Sunday.

Working through this depression I have found home to not always be the best place to be, especially on a day when I am down and we have nothing planned. And so a few weeks ago, I was determined to get us out of the house and ride the metro Downtown and have some fun there. The MetroRail runs all day now, so much easier to do.

But first, we pause for a picture Quinn wanted me to take:

And so off it was to ride the Metro. I must say, the trains are gorgeous! The ride was smooth and really lovely. We parked at Highland Mall for this trip. Unfortunately, there is really no official urban parking.

And so we arrive in Downtown. We walked from the station to Congress and headed to the Austin Museum of Art. Tyler commented about Downtown always being busy with hustle and bustle. Yes, it is. And it is fun to be in the middle of it.

The museum was great featuring 15 new artists to watch from in and around the Austin area. It featured so many different styles: performance art, video art, sculpture, photography, drawing, mixed media, and so much more. I love how it illustrates the diversity of mediums. There are so many ways to express ones self and I love my kids being able to see that.

In the kids area, there was a place where the kids could use stencils to make patterns or just do a drawing of their own. So of course, we left our mark!

After that, we moseyed into a souvenir shop on Congress. That was fun. It is always interesting as a native Texan to see what they are peddling to those that visit our state. After that we headed to the Hideout to have a snack. That place has so much eye candy. I really enjoyed the art that was hung there and the ambiance in general. I got some delicious chai tea and the kids enjoyed some ice cream. After that it was back home.

I love Downtown and I loved riding the metro. It was the perfect thing to do on this particular Thursday. I just love being out in the world and thankfully so do the kids.

They seemed to be all the rage this year! So we gave it a go too. I was really impressed with how they turned out.

Note to self:

– red cabbage makes an incredible blue (pictured)
– when the recipe said 2 cups of matter, it meant vegetables. 1 cup of turmeric to 4 cups of water creates more of a yellow sludge. So use less with the powdered slices.
– rubber bands = fun
– white beeswax crayons make a good resist too!

Today the kids and I went to Pop’s potluck. Mom was under the weather so it was just me and the kids. We got into the dining room early and had to wait a while for the rest of the residents to fill in.

The kids were drawing and Pop and his friend Al were just sitting there. So I grabbed a marker and started with a simple smiley face and showed it to Al. He grinned. Then I added eyebrows and made the smile even bigger. He laughed. And so it went.

Quinn got in on the action and made her own smiley face showing it to Pop and Al.

Friday was a tough day for me. I was pretty down. So I was glad I could come out of that to bring some smiles to my Dad and his good friend and find a fun way for the kids to interact with them.

We have crossed what I always thought would be the hardest threshold with my Dad, the toughest indignity that I would face with him. I have to regularly check and clean my father’s backside. Some days are worse than others when I get to that part. The other day he reached back there without toilet paper and got his hand dirty. He looked at his hand and knew something was not right, but wasn’t sure what to do. I just quickly grabbed a wet wipe, which live on the counter now, and cleaned him up. I have done it many times now and it is just another thing that is rolled into the routine. It just is.

I have given a lot of thought to why I seem detached from my father’s illness. It bothers me. It makes it seem as if my Dad wasn’ important to me.

The only things that I can come up with is that we are almost 7 years into this. He is dying and is clearly declining, but I have no idea exactly how long we have left with him. He still walks, he still smiles, he still knows us. If he were bedridden and just laying there, I would have a much harder time with it. I can handle this illness as it is manifesting itself at this moment in time.

I tend to be a natural caregiver-type and I think I go to that mode. It is all a part of loving him. Dad was always pretty laid back and had a smile for you. In some ways he is still the same. Things can always change, but for now, I can do this.

It was a good visit. The weather was beautiful and we sat outside for a small while after lunch. Quinn found this lovely hibiscus blossom that had just dropped from its stem. The nice thing about trying to get a smile from someone else is that it brings a smile out of me too.

Wow. I have a picture to express exactly how I feel, but I didn’t have my camera with me that day. I was in a room with stained, beveled glass door and windows. As the sunlight shone through them, it scattered fractured light all over the adjacent wall. And that was me. That was my brain.

I feel like I have been picked apart. The curtain has been pulled back. I feel like I am walking around a house looking through each window, but what I see inside changes. I think of eye exams when they switch lenses and tell you to read the letters – with every lens you see something different. The analogies could go on and on.

Today I walked around so anxious, fretting about these recent discoveries. Who am I? Am I the things the doctor said? What does that mean? Questions abound. Curiosities rear their heads. Research ensues. Knowledge gained. Processing. So much processing. I feel like I am hovering over me and then am inside me and then back out. Examining every angle until I can settle on a conclusion that brings peace.

And I did find the conclusion that brought calm. A realization. A moment of elation follows.

And there it is – there is my process. This is how I cope with anxiety, but I am watching it as if it were a movie happening in front of me.

The realization was that even with all this new information and new ways of seeing myself, I am still me. There is nothing to fear. Even if what I see of me is blurry, or is from different angles, it is still me.

I haven’t changed – it is just new information. Information that can be useful in helping me learn new and/or better ways to cope with what stirs in my brain. Medication to address what is out of balance now and we will see what the future brings. I am trying to get used to these new bits of knowledge and figure out how to incorporate them into my self-image.

There was a moment where I felt like damaged goods. But I realized that it isn’t like that at all. All these parts create the characteristics that make me uniquely me. And disparate parts me, nurturing that made me less of a risk taker combined with a naturally more impulsive side create balance. Most of it works…and works pretty well.

So now I am aware of these things and have a greater appreciation for them. I have such a greater appreciation for just how unique we all are. And my mind is at peace. And now I hope it will let me sleep.