Writing about Writing... and Silencing the Inner Critic

It's been 10 months since my last blog post.... Wow! I've taken a break from writing the book as well. Was it a conscious decision to refrain from writing or did life move at lightening speed, as it so often does? I think it's been a combination of both. I won't beat myself up about the break, though. I sometimes set goals that I don't reach. We all do. But it's important to recognize it and simply silence the inner crtic. Don't let that negative voice affect your purpose.

I decided last year that I would be finished with the book by now, and I'm not. I still have the most important section of the book to complete... the part about Brad's death. I've left a big hole in the middle of my writing - the moment I found out about Brad's death and the days and weeks that followed. I've left the hardest part for last, but I am ready to tackle it now. The creative process is interesting. Re-visiting this part of my journal will not be easy - but sometimes, the hardest things in life bring the most reward and promise. I know that I'm here to spread a message of hope and love. Tackling the sadness, hurt and inner demons is necessary. I'm ready to start writing again, and this time, I will push through the hard parts. Completion is near.

A friend once told me that when you are on the right track in following your path in life, things fall into place unexpectedly. I know this is true because I keep receiving confirmations. This isn't to say that bad things don't happen as well. But learning from our experiences and following our hearts enables us to continue moving forward.... we keep pressing along on our path until we are where we need to be.

If you were to tell me years ago, that I would someday be a featured speaker at a retreat intended to inspire women to live their dreams, I wouldn't have believed you. But it's happening this summer. I am so honored that my mentor, Jenny Fenig, has invited me to be an instrumental part of her incredible event, the Retreat for Goddesses. I first met Jenny during my last semester at the University of Florida. I was heavily involved in the Public Relations Student Society of America, and I was networking at a public relations conference in Chicago. Jenny was there, representing Porter Novelli - one of the top PR firms in the world and the agency of my dreams. Jenny was a University of Florida graduate, and we had mutual friends. I was nervous to meet her. I so desperately wanted to land a position at PN.

Fast forward six months, and Jenny helped to orchestrate my internship interview at Porter Novelli's home office in New York City. That internship turned into a full-time job, and I spent the next three years climbing the corporate ladder in NYC. There, Jenny and I developed a solid friendship and I looked up to her, both professionally and personally. Years later, she left corporate America to become a Life Coach and full time yoga instructor. Simultaneously, I started Hoola Monsters and left the corporate world also. Now, here we are! And how great is it that we get to inspire other women to live their dreams, while working together again in such a unique forum! We actually have a call scheduled tomorrow, and it's all about "Silencing the Inner Critic" (that little voice inside your head that tells you aren't good enough). If you'd like to join us, click here to learn more.

To top it off, I'm heading to the Retreat for Goddesses one week after I have the pleasure and honor of teaching at the HoopGirl Empowerment Retreat.

This week, I'm off to Vermont to be a part of Wanderlust Festival, with Wanderlust Tahoe right around the corner also. Take a moment to watch this video, and you'll see why I'm so addicted to this event. What's more, I'll be with two of my closest friends in Tahoe, so I know another exciting adventure is right around the corner. I am so grateful!

Life trips me out sometimes, but I know that I'm on the right track. BIG things are happening. I can feel it :)

Tunnel Vision and Recommended Reading

I have been plugging away on my manuscript, almost to the point of obsession. In my ideal world, I would stay in my pajamas all day to read and write (and sometimes, I do). I've been bad about returning phone calls and emails. I need to fall off the radar sometimes in order to focus on my writing. I want nothing more than to finish this book, do the story justice, and be proud of the work that I've accomplished. I apologize to any friends and family who I've neglected in the process. Right now, I have tunnel vision, and after two years of writing diligently, I know the end is near.

I have a goal set, and I'm on a mission to reach it now that I've secured an editor who is very well-connected in the publishing world. I aim to have the manuscript finished by December. The editor has agreed to read my book, offer her professional feedback, and guide me through the process of securing an agent (if need be) and getting published. She has a long-standing history working for a major publishing house, and she currently serves as a freelance editor and hosts workshops for aspiring authors. I'm so grateful to have made this connection!

I am watching the pieces of the puzzle click together and take shape. I think about my project non-stop, and at this point, I've read just about every book I can find on the topic of depression and suicide. However, the books that I'm drawn to are not authored by professionals (with the exception of a few authors who've had direct experiences with depression, bi-polar disorder or suicide).

I write at home, in bookstores and in coffee shops. Sometimes, being surrounded by books inspires me to work on my own, and I find comfort in this environment.

I was taking a break from one of my book store writing sessions when I decided to peruse the psychology section (once again). This time, however, I found a book that stopped me in my tracks. The book is called His Bright Light, and it's written by Danielle Steel, one of the world's most successful authors. Published in 2000, the book is an autobiography and a tribute to her son, Nick Traina, who took his own life at age 19. I purchased the book immediately, and, for a number of reasons, I haven't been able to put it down since. First, I was amazed to discover that one of the world's most famous authors had written a book on the very subject that I'm tackling. The similarities between the events that transpired are startling (Nick was the same age as Brad when he died by suicide and their deaths were only 10 months apart), while our stories are very different. Second, this is the first piece of literature that I've come across that is written in a similar voice as my own. There are so many "professional" books on the market, but very few are real-life accounts by the people who have been most impacted by suicide and depression. I'm guessing this is because the topic is still considered so taboo in our society. Quite frankly, it makes people uncomfortable, and it's easier to brush it under the rug than to confront it head-on. Plus, many suicide survivors and people who suffer from depression choose to cover things up or hide from the reality of it. It's not often that those who suffer want to air their dirty laundry and openly share their weakest moments. (I think about this often, and it's my biggest fear when it comes to my own writing). With that said, I think Danielle Steel is a brave woman, and I honor her for sharing her son's story.

In addition to His Bright Light, here are a few other books that have inspired me greatly:

No Time to Say Goodbye by Carla Fine
Night Falls Fast by Kay Redfield Jamison
Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser

The Dark Side of Reality TV

"Reality" TV shows are becoming commonplace in our society. And based on show ratings, it's apparent that the general public has an insatiable interest in this growing trend in TV programming.

According to a recent article published on Truth.net, more people watched "American Idol" and "Dancing with the Stars" in the past two weeks than voted in the Presidential election in 2008, one of the most definitive elections so far in our lifetime. The article goes on to say, "the statistics surrounding reality TV suggest that we have checked out from reality and what really is."

And here is a disturbing look at "what really is": There have been more than 11 instances of former reality TV show contendors who have died by suicide. What's more... their deaths have been directly linked to the emotional trauma resulting from their reality TV ventures.

Larry King tackles the issue in this shocking and informative segment:


I have included a few additional news stories about reality TV show suicides. The first, titled "Dangers of Reality Television," examines the heart-breaking truth regarding what happened to these contestants after the shows aired:
Dangers of Reality Television

Psychologists speak about Reality TV show emotional trauma in this Wrap.com feature.

And this article profiles a case in which a young mother took her own life after a terrible encounter on the Nancy Grace show. Prior to appearing in court, the show's creator/ host pleaded to silence cameras in the courtroom. Fortunately, the judge did not comply: CNN article

I should also mention that uncovering this information was not easy. Stories like those listed above very rarely make national headlines, and if they do, it's for a very short period of time. After all, news about emotional trauma and suicides directly linked to reality TV would not promote a positive image for these ever-so-popular, revenue-generating shows. Could the media have anything to do with this highly newsworthy information being omitted from the general public? I'll let you be the judge of that. I should also mention that Reality TV show contestants are required to sign iron-clad confidentiality agreements, which prevent them from telling their sides of the story.

I am very interested to hear your thoughts...

Stop and Listen

Do you ever feel as though you're on autopilot? There are times when we do things because we just do them. Going through the motions, without much thought.... like brushing your teeth or turning onto the road where you live. I think we sometimes get into autopilot mode with music, too. We love the way a song sounds or how it makes us feel, but we don't really investigate the message behind it. Eventually, the music becomes habitual. Maybe we even sing along, without letting the words sink in.

I know that I'm guilty of this, and things slide by when I'm not paying attention. I've always considered 311 one of my favorite bands, and I've heard their songs time and time again. Same with Pearl Jam and Red Hot Chili Peppers. But I experienced songs by these artists and others, in a different way tonight, after doing a Google search for lyrics about suicide...

311: Beyond the Gray Sky


Red Hot Chili Peppers: The Otherside


Both of the above songs are on my Ipod, and I've seen 311 live on four different occassions. As for the following song... not only did I see it performed live, I was sitting on the side of the stage (thanks to a friend's connection at 98 Rock). But due to a generous supply of free beer backstage, I let these lyrics fly right over my head that night. I did, however, pay closer attention when I heard the song on the radio shortly thereafter.

Papa Roach, Last Resort


It dawned on me that I need to practice the art of 'listening and learning.' And if well-known musicians can tackle the taboo topic of suicide, then so can I. There are lots of negative opinions surrounding depression and people with suicidal tendencies. I sometimes worry about that, and I often need to remind myself that this work is much more important than the mindset of asanine critics.

This is the song I heard on the radio this evening, which sparked tonight's research project:
P.O.D. Youth of the Nation


And here's one more that resonated, particularly because survivors are heard here...


I'm fucking tackling this shit, and I'm not going to worry about what people may say or think. I've stopped reading the ignorant comments posted to news stories about suicide, by people who have no compassion. There will always be critics. There will always be people who don't agree or people who won't understand. But if we fall prey to what others might think, then we lose sight of why we are here in the first place. And I am here to write this book.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I need to write about writing sometimes because the subject matter can be so emotionally draining. These blog "pep talks" help me to process thoughts and move forward with the book project.

The Puzzle

I have 22 chapters in the works. In the past month or so, I have been writing non-stop. I am allowing myself to let words fall onto paper, without over-analyzing content, grammar, punctuation or layout. That will come later. The writing process is turning out to be a puzzle, of sorts...

I am learning not to critique my work during the creative process, as content is my focus. The story is the most important part. I've examined the puzzle to ensure that each piece is accounted for. I am beginning to snap the pieces together, one at a time. Sometimes, the sections are not compatible. When that happens, I put them into a "MISC" file. Eventually, I create a place for everything, though. Sometimes, I need to re-arrange and move things, until it all fits together the way it's supposed to. I'm finding that the puzzle is now transforming. I can see the outline of my words, and content is filling the open spaces. Productivity feels good.

I love when I get into flow with my writing. When words come straight from the heart, they are true. Flow occurs when I have the ability to type as fast as I think. My heartbeat quickens, and I don't have time to second-guess truth when it spills onto paper.

Positive intentions are set. I am writing this book in Brad's name. In his suicide letter to me, he said that he admired my great work ethic. He said that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. So, I'm honoring him in this way. His beautiful spirit is the driving force behind my work. I don't want him to be remembered as the guy who died by suicide. Instead, my hope is that by sharing this story, his legacy will live on in a positive way... that he will inspire people to avoid silent suffering and realize that they are not alone.

And for those who have dealt with the tragic loss of a loved one to suicide... you are not alone, either.

I'm also writing this book for me, and I'm writing it for anyone who has ever suffered from feelings of self-hatred. I want people who are plagued with depression to know that it doesn't have to be a death-sentence. I aim to tackle the toxic stigmas surrounding suicide. There are lots of conflicting views on this topic, and I know that my book will be controversial but I won't let that hold me back. The message is too important, and I have no room in the creative process for fear and self-doubt. Instead, I'm guided by my desire to communicate truth and conjur feelings of understanding, compassion and hope.

My journals are intense... just the other day, I read the forgotton words, "At least I have my writing. I know that this is my safe place, and I know that no one will read this..." It's ironic that I am re-visiting these words from a different perspective, now. My safe place is no longer my private sanctuary. Confronting my fears and vulnerabilities with the intention of helping others is what I will do.

The book will be finished this year. In the past month, my "Patience" mentality has shifted to "Action." The puzzle is taking shape.

In the Shadows for a Moment...

"Wow... you're so sweet , I'm a mess right now. Let us see what the future will hold. You amaze me, with your kindness. I will see you again. Thank you so much for so much i don't deserve; you're great."

That was the last thing Josh said to me. I woke up this morning and found out that he died almost a week ago. I immediately thought he had killed himself. His friends told me that he had died at home, in his bed. One explanation is a brain aneurysm, while another has to do with a new medication that was possibly combined with alcohol or something else. Apparently, there's going to be an autopsy because there are a lot of questions surrounding his death. But, ultimately, it doesn't matter... the fact is, a beautiful young man is dead. His funeral is on Sunday and my heart is fucking broken for his family and all who were close to him.

I met Josh at the drum circle on his 25th birthday. We talked a lot that night, and I told him about the book I'm writing. He listened intently to what I said, and I was amazed to learn that he was even familiar with one of the suicide prevention organizations I support.

When we said goodbye, he told me that he couldn't wait to see me again. He gave me a soft kiss on the neck, and it wasn't until I drove away that I realized we hadn't exchanged contact information. I thought about him non-stop until I saw him again the following week.

Our first date was perfect. We smiled, laughed and kissed the whole time. A random gentleman asked us if we were newlyweds. Josh said that I made him nervous, but in a good way. I told him that I felt like I've known him for a long time... he seemed familiar, even though we had just met. We kissed goodbye in the rain that night.

I went to visit my family for Thanksgiving, and we communicated every day. He said that he was thankful to have met me, and I told him the same. I got back to St. Pete on a Sunday evening. I couldn't wait to see him, and I was so excited for my best friend to meet him for the first time. We hung out at the drum circle, and before heading back to my house, we took a walk on the beach. He brought me to an area where there was a sandcastle building competition days before. The sandcastles were starting to fall. We admired some of the broken sculptures and ran on top of the ruined ones. I felt playful and full of joy around him.

We stayed up for most of the night, and he shared with me... he had just gotten out of a four-year relationship and was having a hard time. He told me that he had anxiety and that he sometimes drinks too much. We talked about writing. Poetry was his release.

In the days that followed, things began to change. I started to receive text messages in the middle of the night. Scary messages that worried me. One said, "It's nights like these when I feel like giving up. It's nights like these when I don't give a fuck." Another text: "last thing you want to say." I tried to shower him with positive words and make him feel valued. I know that he was suffering from a broken heart... trying to drown it in alcohol, which only made things worse. During one of the late night calls, he said that he never sleeps and that he drinks every night.

Soon, the phone calls and text messages became less frequent. I wanted closure and I needed to know that he was ok. So, I tried to reach out to him. I brought him journals... a place to keep his words when things were bad. In the big journal, I wrote this: "Set good intentions and surround yourself with positive people. Happiness is inevitable if you just listen and embrace it." I also gave him a pocket sized journal, so he could carry it with him and write whenever he needed it. That one said, "When inspiration strikes, take the time to honor it."

Then, a couple weeks ago, I stopped hearing from him completely. I told him that I was here for him if he ever needed someone to talk to and that I honored him and valued him. The last thing he said to me was the message I started this blog with. I knew he was suffering, but I didn't want to bother him, so his message to me was our last communication.

I've been visiting his Facebook page every few days because I've been worried about him so much. In doing so, I always found poetry that scared me even more. These are some of his last words...

and my body lies as it hits the ground , i hear them start the statement, he was such a good soul but then they catch themselves, this is my hell this is my hell

grab my hand and let us pray, i scream please get the fuck away

I'm reckless and free now. You can't touch me now. My heart breaks for no one.

DIE YOUNG AND SAVE YOURSELF!!

I don't know what was worse... the scary messages or none at all. I was out of town for Christmas. I thought about him, though, and secretly hoped I would run into him at the drum circle on Sunday. I logged onto his Facebook page this morning... it had been almost a week since I last checked, and the first thing I saw was information about his service, along with RIP messages. My brain is fucking jumbled right now. I'm sharing this because I have to.

Patience

I've taken a break from the book project, and I'm not entirely sure if it was a conscious decision. In the midst of leaving my office job and pursing my hoop dance business full-time, I got side tracked. Not to mention, the last time I wrote, the content was pretty emotional. Diving into my journals can be an emotionally draining experience. I'm balancing those times out with inspirational books, movement meditation and other healing practices. The books are very helpful... Some of my favorites include: Peaks and Valleys, A Short Guide to a Happy Life, Where Did the Gift Go?, and The Mastry of Love. There are more that are escaping me right now. These books tend to leave me with positive thoughts that remind me to approach each day with gratitude. But, at the same time, I've been feeling a little guilty about my break from writing. A few months ago, I was on a roll... writing every evening, feeling very inspired. Now, it's quiet time. Time to listen and absorb the thoughts and feelings within.

I returned from Citrus County this morning. I visited my home town to host hoop dance workshops over the weekend. I was pleasantly surprised that the workshops were a big hit. I didn't know if people would show, and if they did, would they connect with it? The answer is yes to both, and it felt good.

Afterwards, I met up with my good friend, Jeff. I've been craving face time with Jeff, to tell him about the book project that I'm working on. I didn't want to talk about it over the phone. I wanted to tell him, in person, about my plans for the book. Growing up, Jeff was one of Brad's best friends. Over the years, he became one of my best friends too. His mom was my tennis coach and guidance counselor in high school. I was also great friends with his sister, and our families were connected as well. We all played tennis, and we spent countless hours hanging out after school and on the weekends. Following high school and college, we remained close. Jeff and I leaned on each other after Brad's death - and it was important for me to share with him about the book.

So, on Friday evening, Jeff and I talked. I explained that I've kept journals my whole life, and I have everything documented... all of the grief and emotions that followed Brad's death. Jeff is an amazingly supportive friend, and I'm grateful that I had the chance to speak with him about it. I ended up staying at the house that night since I had a couple drinks and didn't want to drive. The next morning, I woke up at 6 a.m., with the thought that I had to rush back to St. Pete in order to teach class. But as I cranked up the car, I realized that it was Saturday, not Sunday. I don't teach on Saturdays, so I no longer needed to rush. The sun wasn't up yet and as I approached the boat ramp (where Brad took his life), I decided to stop. I hadn't been there in a long time, and I felt compelled to visit his cross and absorb the energy of the lake. We grew up on that lake and spent so many days on the water... swimming, wakeboarding, boating, and playing. I thought about the lake being the last vision Brad had before he died. And as I pulled my car up, I grabbed my Ipod and went to plug it in. But, I quickly decided I wasn't in the mood for my own music, so I switched on the radio instead. At that exact moment, the beginning of Patience by Guns n' Roses came on. It sent a chill through my body. This was Brad's favorite song, and it's what we played at his funeral. I've listened to this song thousands of times but at that moment, the message resonated in a different way...

Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you. I'm still alright to smile...
There is no doubt you're in my heart now.

Said woman take it slow. It'll work itself out fine. All we need is just a little patience.

Take the time... 'Cause the lights are shining bright.

All we need is just a little patience.

As I sat there, listening to the words, I felt like Brad was speaking directly to me - about the book that I'm writing in his name. I felt his presence.

Before this moment, I was feeling anxious and guilty because I had taken a break from writing. I had been on a roll at one point and then I stopped. I was disappointed in myself because of it... until this moment, at the boat ramp.

It was a confirmation that I'm on no one's time frame. If it takes me years to write, that's OK. Brad deserves only my best work, so when inspiration strikes and the moment is right to write again, then I will. I think my quiet time is also part of the process. I'm reading, absorbing, remembering and thinking... I'm realizing that writing a book doesn't necessarily mean you're actually writing it the entire time. I want it to naturally evolve into a piece of work that does the story justice... it doesn't matter how long it takes. I will have patience.