Tag Archives: mental health

Words Matter

29th post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: How are you changing the world?

One word at a time.

“Polaris” – originally published in Thirteen Words

Be well,

Monty

Self Love

26th post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: What is your favorite part about yourself?

What a strange question. Am I to dissect myself into different parts and judge them against each other? How does my left pinkie toe compare vs. the birthmark I have on my cheek? What are the criteria? I don’t think I’ve studied this subject before. I’m feeling wholly unqualified to properly execute this request.

So, I’m inclined to cheat on this one. Why not love my whole self? Why play favorites? If pressed, I guess I would have to say my brain/mind? After all, that’s what makes me me and not just a random sack of meat. But if you asked me to give up my left pinkie toe, I’d argue I’m better whole than in bits and pieces. So I’ll politely ask not to be dissected. At least not until I’m deceased, then take all my parts worth anything and give them to those in need. There most be someone needing a new left pinkie toe.

“Mockingbird” – originally published in Thirteen Words

Be well,

Monty

I Don’t Feel Strong

25th post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: Write about what makes you feel strong.

I don’t feel strong. At least not the strong that this word connotes to me. The “be a man” strong that is pushed on me when I’m afraid. The “big boys don’t cry” strong that shames me when I’m hurt or sad. I’m not that kinda strong.

I don’t feel strong. I’m not hard and impenetrable. I’m tarnished with scars from life’s wounds. Some inflicted by others. Many by myself. They remind me of the pain and hurt I felt and feel. They remind me that life is not easy and smooth. Yet, I’m choosing to live.

I don’t feel strong. I don’t stand firm and tall. I’ve been bent and scattered by the winds of time. I’ve fallen under the weight of gravity. I’ve been pulled and pushed by the tides. Yet, today I stand. Not so tall, but I stand.

I don’t feel strong, but I am. My surface is soft and malleable. I respond to life’s touch. Accommodate and adjust. My core is flexible and resilient. I bend in the wind. Almost aerodynamically, I reduce resistance. Gaining lift.

My roots, once rigid, deep, and alone, then torn asunder, are born again. Young and agile they reach out. Interconnecting me. Providing me stability. Stability that comes from communing with the roots of others. Meaningful. Empathetic. Loving.

I don’t feel strong, but I am.

Be well,

Monty

Dear Father,

23rd post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: Interview a fictional character.

I’m stretching this prompt a bit, but this is what I feel like sharing today. In many ways, the Father in this poem is fictional. The creation of a young boy trying to make sense of a situation that didn’t make any sense. Originally written last year.

Dear Father,

Dear Father, is it true? Did you leave to be free of me?

I come from you. Are you ashamed? Do I spoil your good name?

I’m sorry I’m not worthy.

Dear Father, are you listening? What should I do?

Your blood runs within me. Tarnished by my stupidity.

Should I slice it free? Will you answer me?

Dear Father, where are you? Are you a reality?

Or are you just an origin story? A false memory?

Something to make sense of life biologically?

Dear Father, your silence is my answer.

I know what I must do now. I’ll let you be.

This feels right. I see the light beckoning me.

Dear Father, please forgive me.

I promise I tried my best. Honestly.

I’m sorry. I am not worthy.

Be well,

Monty

Serenity, Courage, Wisdom

22nd post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: What is your favorite quote and why?

My Answer: The serenity prayer because…

“17” originally published in Monty’s Very Short Shorts

Be well,

Monty

Past Present Future

21st post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: If you could, what year would you time travel to and why?

Ah. A classic topic in the ol’ game of imagination. Time travel! In some ways, I kinda selected a version of time travel as my super power in the previous question (Slo-Mo Man), but let’s explore this a little further from another angle or two.

To the Past…

The past is full of memories. Some comforting. Some regrettable. If I go back in time, either to my own timeline of before my birth, I have the opportunity to change the future for better or worse. While there are many things I wish were better in this world, I do not want to risk changing the course of my life. It’s how I got to be who I am. I’ve worked very hard to overcome my challenges – some imposed by others and many imposed by myself. I finally like myself (mostly) and I love my life and the people in it. So, despite the temptation, I’ll pass on the past.

To the Future…

Ah, this is something that I’ve flirted with so many times in my life. It’s the escapist’s dream. Fast forward through a boring school day. Skip past the heartbreak year after a painful breakup. Or jump all the way to life’s finale for the ultimate release. Even these days, when I’m trying to embrace the present, I can find myself fantasizing about retirement during a particularly annoying zoom meeting at work. But to skip ahead is to miss all the presents in between. I don’t want to miss a moment. A chance to share a laugh with my kids. A hug with my wife. An interesting introspection with my mom. A hot coffee or cold beer with a friend. So, its a firm no on fast forwarding to the future for me.

To the Present…

You might be wondering exactly how “time-traveling” to the present would work. Isn’t it just NOT time-traveling at all? Well, I’d argue that while my body is always in the present, my mind is not. My mind is often reliving the past or fantasizing about the future. While this isn’t inherently bad, it tends to be a negative place for me. Either a place of regret, guilt, and resentment. Or a place of unhealthy escapism that leans toward suicidal ideation. So, my choice is to time-travel to the present. It’s the one version of this fantasy that I can actually work on to achieve.

When Time Stills

Where

nothing

happens,

When 

time

stills,

and

the

world

shrinks

to

now,

I

awaken.

Be well,

Monty

Slo-Mo Man

17th post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: What is a superpower you’d love to have?

When I saw this prompt come in I was a bit confused as I thought we already had this one earlier in the month. Turns out I had written a post on a very similar theme last December. I had to laugh when I realized. Since that was posted on my old blog site, I figure I can repurpose it here. It’s still 100% valid. Enjoy!

Slo-Mo Man

Originally Posted: 20 December 2021 on MontysScribbles.com

If you could have any superpower what would you choose? Super strength? Invisibility? X-ray vision? How many times have you played this game of imagination growing up? More than I can count, for me. I’ve answered differently throughout the years. Weighing the pros and cons of each choice.  Debating the finer points with whomever would listen.

My youngest fantasy was to fly. I dreamed both day an night about flying away. An escape in more ways then one. X-ray vision was a favorite during puberty, but it always required some special fine tuning to avoid very disturbing results. I spent many a night trying my way to think that one through. Oh, the not so innocent innocence of pre-internet pubescence. Later in life, I would discuss the same question with my kids. No matter what I chose they always had an argument as to why I was wrong. They made some pretty good points.

I’m not exactly sure how I came to consider this question again this morning. It was a meandering thought process with a murky beginning and the final conclusion that from now on my super power is going slow. When the world is spinning out of control and life gets unruly, I take it slow. 

Here’s the logic: When I slow down, life slows down too. In fact, life slows down exponentially in relation to the pace I live it. By going slow, the world around me pauses. Suddenly time gets vertical. Urgency, with all of its stresses, fades away. Life becomes calm. I transform from impatient to compassionate. From insensitive to kind. From selfish to giving. The slow me is grateful. The slow me is my best self. 

I’m Slo-Mo Man!

Be well,

Monty

Living Courageously

11th post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: What does it mean to live boldly?

First let’s get grounded…

Boldly:

(1) in a confident and courageous way; showing a willingness to take risk.

(2) in a way that is characterized by having a strong, vivid, or clear appearance.

– Oxford Dictionary

Ok, so based on this literal foundation, I’m going to reframe the question for today as “What does it mean to live courageously?”

Living Courageously

Living courageously is being open, honest, and vulnerable.

Living courageously is admitting to my mistakes and making amends.

Living courageously is loving myself with all my faults.

Living courageously is loving another unconditionally.

Living courageously is changing the things I can.

Living courageously is accepting the things I cannot change.

Living courageously is choosing life even when I don’t want to.

Living courageously is finding joy amidst the pain.

Living courageously is simply,

Living.

What does living courageously mean to you?

Be well,

Monty

An Uninspired Post

9th post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: What do people incorrectly assume about you?

Well, sh*t. I’ve been on a role (in my not so humble opinion), but I feel wholly uninspired by this question. This could just as easily be written as “What do I (incorrectly) assume that people incorrectly assume about me?” I feel all this assuming we do about what others are really thinking that causes such ugliness in our world. I don’t want to contribute to more of this unhealthy assuming. All we know is how others behave and all they know about us is how we behave. It’s that simple. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just as guilty as all of us in attributing others intentions and meaning behind what they say and do. I think it’s human nature. But it’s not helpful in most cases. Whether we are making positive or negative assumptions about others we are missing the opportunity to listen openly, to inquire curiously, and to trust vulnerably. We are missing the opportunity for true connection and love. So, uninspired by this question, yet inspired to do better, today I choose to share myself more openly and listen to each of you without judgement.

“Judge” (Originally published in Monty’s Very Short Shorts)

Be well,

Monty

Discovering Hope

8th post for #bloganuary (a WordPress event)

The Prompt: What do you like most about your writing?

Ok, this time I’m going to have to twist the prompt a bit. I’m not so inclined to write about what I like about my writing. For me the act of writing is much more important and interesting to me then the resulting work itself (that is not to say I don’t enjoy my finished works, but by comparison the writing itself is much more the point). So I’m going to change the prompt to: What do you like most about writing?

I’m glad you asked! The short answer is writing has saved my life. It’s hard not to like (appreciate) something that has saved your life, right? I’m not exaggerating. This isn’t hyperbole (I think…maybe I should recheck the definition). To explain, I think it would be helpful to first provide some background and context. Let’s look back at a personal essay I wrote last summer, ‘A Monster Named Me’.

A Monster Named Me

Originally published July 15, 2021 on Monty’s Scribbles.

All it took was the slightest sharpening of the sword in my eyeballs or the tiniest cinching of the vice upon my temples and I knew the Monster was arriving. There was no guessing involved. If the Monster peaked out from the closet then it was guaranteed to come out to terrorize me. The monster, a.k.a. my migraine, was a constant presence in my life. It was always there. Sometimes a low level threat hanging out in the closet. Other times, more so than not, a dangerous and angry force out for destruction.

My ability to predict the onslaught of pain was uncanny. It was like I had perfect clairvoyance, but only in this one aspect of my life. How could this be? The answer was simple. The monster was me. I wasn’t predicting its arrival. I was conjuring the monster from within me.

A Monster Named Me

What I had thought was a wild and uncontrollable force was in fact a well-trained and obedient pet doing my bidding. This was non-obvious to me though. I spent years, decades, feeling like I was at its mercy. I could try to placate it. Manage the intensity of its anger by avoiding certain triggers or curling up in a dark room, but these measures were of minimal effect. In fact, it seemed as if there were more and more triggers. More and more of life that I had to avoid if I wanted some peace. Instead of living life I was avoiding it. I felt hopeless.

There is a name for what I was doing. This “reading of the tea leaves” and predicting (i.e. calling) the onslaught of pain. It’s called “catastrophizing”, which is the mental process of constant negative thinking and emotional responses to pain that can lead to pain becoming worse in intensity and duration, i.e. chronic pain. Essentially, I was programming my brain that when I did something ”dangerous” (e.g. a trigger) the pain was inevitable. I was programming my brain that, if the pain started, it was unstoppable. That the pain would escalate in intensity until I needed to escape with sleep and medication.

Some people confuse this concept with meaning that the pain is somehow ”less real” or ”made-up”; “all-in-the-head”. Well, the reality is that all pain, whether it be from a broken bone or a mysterious migraine, is a mental process. Signals in the pain being interpreted as pain. So it makes sense that negative thinking and emotions can influence how we experience pain. And because our brain is amazing at learning, it starts to program itself. To learn that a specific cause (e.g. trigger) will lead to a certain result. That a specific experience (e.g. eye-pressure) will lead to a full-blown migraine. We essentially train our brain to experience chronic pain. But this pain is very real. No less real than the pain from a broken bone.

When I learned this, I thought it was absolutely brilliant. I also thought that it was an absolute tragedy. The brilliance came in the form of realizing that if I’d programmed my brain for chronic pain then I could also, possibly, reprogram it to something more pleasant (like “not pain). Suddenly, I realized I had the potential to control this wild monster that had ravaged me for so many years. That’s where the tragedy came in. How did it take me 35 years of suffering to become aware of this? I’d taken hundreds of different medications and procedures to “manage my pain”, some to address emotional distress associated with the pain (e.g. anti-depressants), but none of my doctors ever let me know that the power was within my own hands (or brain, I guess I should say). The answer, of course, is that they didn’t know about it themselves. It’s not part of the main curriculum for pain management (at least in western medicine). Oh well, better late than never, right? But this is why I’m sharing my story. Perhaps there is someone out there suffering as I was that will read this and discover hope like me.

There are many mind-body tools and techniques for reprograming our brains for pain. Catastrophizing is just one of the many aspects that need to be addressed and everybody will have their own personal journey. And of course there is every possibility that there is an underlying physical/physiological cause for the pain that needs to be addressed medically. But there is hope. There are tools that can help us.

Today, after over three decades of suffering migraines, I’m pretty much pain-free. I have pressure in my head sometimes, actually quite often, but that pressure remains just pressure. In the old days I would have viewed that pressure as a bad omen and boom the pain would come. These days, if the pressure starts to intensify, I pause, acknowledge whats going on, perhaps do a breathing exercise, and get back to life. In essence, I’m cured of my chronic pain.

I’m currently writing my full length recovery story which I will be sharing as soon as it’s ready. It’s called “Discovering Hope”. I’m pretty excited about sharing my story and sharing my hope.

Work-In-Progress (estimated arrival in December 2021)Work-In-Progress (estimated arrival in December 2022)

Briefly, I used self-help techniques including cognitive-behavior, mindfulness, and expressive writing exercises. The specific program I used is called CURABLE(R) (CurableHealth.com). It’s an online, digital health program and available as an app on your smart phone. If you experience chronic pain then I encourage you to check it out [this is not an advertisement, I’m just sharing what worked for me]. Your also more then welcome to reach out to me with any questions about my personal recovery journey. There is hope, and I’m happy to share it.

Well, that was a quite a long write-up on background, but I think it was important. Now let’s get back to the question at hand. What do you like most about writing?

As mentioned in The Monster Is Me, part of my recovery journey was expressive writing. It’s a mind-body technique that helps with working through unresolved emotional issues. Although most of those expressive writing sessions resulted in torn up scraps, they planted a creative seed within me to explore my life-experiences through the written word. Making sense of my life through writing, and later drawing, has been a running theme throughout my work. Sometimes seriously. Sometimes with a much-needed sense of humor. Writing has continued to be a self-care practice for me and the main driver for me even writing this piece.

Along the journey I’ve found my words and my people. Check out my About Me page for more explanation including links to all my major (self) published works.

Be well,

Monty