Saturday, July 11, 2009

Public vs. private...

I was lucky enough to attend Sara Benincasa's "Agorafabulous" show at Theatre 99 on Friday night. My friend Jason wrote a great piece about her in last week's City Paper and I got to be his plus one (Thanks, Jason!).

sarabenincasa
To sum up: Sara has agoraphobia, struggled with it for years, and turned it into a comedy routine. I, being a firm believer in handling most of life's challenges with humor, admire the sh*t out of her. After reading Jason's CP piece and a little more on Sara's blog, I knew I had to see the show. And I wasn't disapppointed. You can see a clip from Friday's show and read more about Sara here.

Why this was important to me: I've written personal narrative for years and have turned some of the most painful episodes in my life into humorous pieces. I'm flippant, irreverent, and capable of laughing at myself in most instances. But there are a few "no touchy" subjects for me and panic disorder is one of them.

Like Sara, I had my first panic attack at the age of 18. I didn't know it was a panic attack, but I spent a lot of time over a three-year period going to emergency rooms trying to convince them that I was having a heart attack. I was called histrionic, dehydrated, hooked up to saline IVs and sent home, and finally diagnosed with Mitral Valve Prolapse, or MVP - a common heart condition that about one in four women have, but tend to grow out of in their 20s (I did). By the time I was 21, I was frustrated, self-medicating, and nearly incapacitated by panic attacks that were becoming more and more frequent. Four MDs, two shrinks, and two years later, I was finally given a diagnosis of PTSD (something else I haven't written about because I haven't been able to remove myself enough to find the humor in it). I began taking medication for panic disorder, but discovered I didn't need it long-term, because once I knew that I was only having a panic attack and that I wasn't going to die, I was able to use some of the coping skills I learned in therapy to talk myself down.

One of the reasons I haven't written very much about this is because there is such a stigma associated with panic disorders. I had too many doctors (and friends and boyfriends and acquaintances) tell me "it's all in your head" or "you're being a hypochondriac" that I just stopped sharing. I also stopped going to therapy and went for almost 8 years without a panic attack - through the latter part of my 20s. There was a part of me that even believed I could overcome it with sheer willpower. I'm not a weak person and one of my biggest fears is having other people think I'm weak.

After years of being panic attack free, I started having them again after 9/11, again after my grandmother passed away in early 2003, again after I lost two of my best friends in 2003. It was right around this time that I began seeing a new therapist who really knew her sh*t - in fact, she gave me some information about new research linking MVP to panic disorder. Even with the mild type I had, the MVP "episodes" can trigger a fight or flight response that in turn triggers panic attacks. We also started working on the overall issue of PTSD, and my anxiety became managable once again.

I can't say at this point in my life that I will never again have a panic attack. The few that I've had in the past year or so have been what my therapist calls "situational," meaning that something bad happens in my life, I stop taking care of myself physically as a result, and end up sitting in my car outside of Harris Teeter, unable to drum up the courage to enter the store because I'm sitting in my car having an anxiety attack. Driving is another trigger for me. I've had to pull over to the side of the road because of an anxiety attack. I've also woken up in the middle of the night with night terrors that trigger an attack. I don't take daily medication because antidepressants really didn't work for me; plus I tend to {luckily) have very long anxiety-free periods of time, so I use Xanax as needed.

Back to the show: I was amazed that someone who experienced panic disorder that was severe enough to manifest as agoraphobia could take her situation and turn it into a routine that literally had the audience cackling for an entire hour like Sara did. I admire her for that, I admire her for sharing her most painful moments, and for being open about the fact that she takes medication and credits it for saving her life. I think if more people spoke openly about it, there wouldn't be such a stigma attached. And it also helped me see that eventually I'll be able to write about my own experiences with humor, because I saw that there is a lot of funny to be mined there.

My close friends know about my own history. And the few others I've shared it with are always amazed - I usually simplify it by just saying "I'm slightly socially phobic" - because they've read my essays for years and that Kelly Love Johnson is fearless. I'm a lot more comfortable now than I was 10 years ago explaining that the Kelly who writes those essays is my public persona, like a costume I can put on when I want to, and she is fearless. But the private Kelly is just as screwed up as everyone else. She has self-esteem issues. She doesn't like to make small talk. She is not a fan of crowds. She's had insomnia since high school that is entirely anxiety-based. She's afraid of flying, travel, highway construction, frogs, the ocean, hurricanes, the extreme Christian Right, aging, showing weakness, and homelessness. She also hates writing about herself in the third person.

I think what Sara did with her show is merge the two - her public and private Saras. And I hope to be able to do that myself someday, without judgment, without fear, and hopefully with a few laughs.

And one last thing: When I got a note via Facebook from Sara herself telling me she was a fangirl of mine and has been reading my essays for years, I almost fell out of my chair. It's the most flattered I've been in months and I think I'm going to spend the entire weekend riding that high.

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Friday, July 10, 2009

Celebrating Lulu's 9-month birthday...

Yes, it involved a pupcake. She celebrated early with the family the week before. I'm still wearing a band-aid on my arm because she nipped me when I attempted to move her from rug to floor at my mom's house after my mom gave her a t-bone...note to self: my dog is not "food aggressive" (she's "food motivated"), but when it comes to real steak bones, stay away.

lulu8mos

Some milestones: She is big enough to jump on my bed (and off of it) so I didn't have to buy puppy stairs after all. She knows what it means when I say "get your ball." She's protective and barks her ass off if a stranger comes to the door (we've done the "no barking" training, but I like that she barks to alert me). I've left her alone for 8 hours and she didn't act out (only pottied on puppy pad and didn't chew any shoes). She doesn't cry when we go for rides in the car anymore. And my favorite: She tells me when she needs to go outside (she used to just go on her pad).

Miss Kitty didn't participate in the birthday festivities, but she refrained from torturing Lulu for the day (drinking out of her bowl, taking over her dog bed), which was gift enough.

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Saturday, June 13, 2009

There's nothing better...

than a rainy, stormy Saturday afternoon when it's 90+ degrees outside and you were smart enough to take the dog for a nice long walk in the morning when it was still cool and not raining and do the dishes and go to the grocery store, which leaves your afternoon free to turn down the air conditioning to 67 degrees and take a nap on top of your duvet/comforter with a throw blanket over your feet, fat little puppy on one side and cat on the other while it pours rain and thunders outside. Guilt-free group naps. They're the best.

Also good: having a stack of unread library books, dinner that doesn't require a lot of preparation in the fridge, the 2nd two discs of Weeds season 4, and a great excuse for staying in for the evening.

The only thing better: if I get to do it all over again on Sunday.

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Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Lulu is 8 months old today!

Yes, I celebrate her monthly birthdays. And she gets a "pup cake." I've become one of "those" dog moms. I was looking through some photos yesterday and my little Pom has gotten so big! I think she was about 2 lbs. when I brought her home:

sotiny

And at her last vet visit, she was NINE POUNDS. She official outweighs Miss Kitty. Some of it might be fur, but I'm hoping she doesn't get too much bigger. My happy girl:

happylou8mos

Now I understand why people end up with multiple dogs. When they get to the "teenager" stage and stop being puppies, you want another one. I do, but will resist. I haven't forgotten how hard the potty training and having to stay close to home for the first few months were.

Happy 8-month birthday to my little pip!

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Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Tell me something good...*

Despite the fact that I am actively pursuing positivity (i.e. not hanging out with people who bring me down, not listening to the little voice in my head that worries all the time, not reading sad books or listening to any of my numerous sad songs playlists), I just had to let some of the negativity loose. My top 10 list of things that piss me off:

1. People who keep sending me DC-based political job listings. I was communications director for one congressional campaign and, while I did a really good job for my candidate, I chose to work for the campaign because of the candidate and her positions, not because I had a dream to one day work for low wages in politics. I love you, but please stop with the DC job listing email forwards. I don't want to move to DC, especially not for 50K a year.

2. The chatty guy who works behind the counter at CVS who thinks it is appropriate to tell me I look tired, that I look that I've had a long day, etc. He's done it three times already. I work from home. Some days that means I don't wear makeup. I also have to walk my dog, which means I am often sweaty, covered in sunscreen, and wearing a ball cap to hide dirty hair. Also, I am over 30 and an insomniac, so I frequently suffer from puffy eye syndrome. None of this is CVS guy's business. And it doesn't make my day. Also? I never hear him say things like that to men. Don't comment on my appearance unless you think I look fantastic.

3. The former friend I haven't spoken to in five years sending me a friend request through Facebook (no note, just the friend request). There are better ways to get in touch after time has passed and this is not one of them. My email address has been the same since 1997. My cell number has been the same since 2000.

4. People who keep asking me to do shit for free, like they believe since I'm working from home I have all this time on my hands. I don't mind giving advice, volunteering, etc., but I do have a limit. And really my pet peeve here isn't doing something pro bono, it's the lack of reciprocity. I have literally reached out for help to people for whom I have bent over backwards for years for, and was left with my hand outstretched and not even a kind word. I could give you some fine examples, but would rather not name names. Instead, I will share my Note from the Universe that I received this morning:
"There will always be people in your life, Kelly Love, who hold you back, who cost you too much, and who fail to see all you've done for them. But, of course, they're just there to teach you that you do have time, that you'll always be rich, and that your own high standards are all that matter."

5. People who keep trying to engage me in conversation about things in celebrity gossip magazines. I do not care about those people with a bunch of kids, octo-mom or whatever her name is, anyone from The Hills, Housewives of Whatever, or reality television in general. I realize these are like crack to some people and that's just fine. I don't want to hear about them. The only reality shows I watch are on the Food Network , Animal Planet, and the Travel Channel. If that makes me a TV snob, so be it.

6. My douchebag neighbor who keeps parking his douchey boat and douchey truck on the side street of my house. It wouldn't be so bad if his douchey boat didn't LEAK GASOLINE INTO MY YARD. Also? I had four of my OTHER neighbors knock on my door to ask me if it was MY boat (seriously?!) because they were pissed about the gasoline smell. Someone called DHEC on him. It might have been me. If it wasn't me, I wish I'd thought of it.

7. Random neighbors (including douchey boat guy's girlfriend) stopping by to ask (a) if I have wi-fi and (b) if I will give them my password. One even offered me $20 a month to ride my wireless internet access. Wow - I pay $65 a month for internet access and you want to give me $20 a month to slow it down? No thanks and you have very large balls just for asking. My standard response is "I don't feel comfortable with that" (and then I raise an eyebrow to make my "and I don't care if you think I'm a bitch" face).

8. Some effed up show on the History Channel called "Life After People" I accidentally watched while flipping channels during a bout of insomnia. Dude, I am neurotic enough on my own. I ended up taking a Xanax at 3am just to be able to get back to sleep after watching just 10 minutes of this show. And I still can't get the images of feral dogs rummaging through cities out of my head.

9. People who respond to my listing on Roommates.com that are either complete freaks or arrange a time to meet and never show up or call me back. And the ones who are surprised that I'm actually "interviewing" potential roommates. Just trying to weed out the racists, homophobes, rednecks, and serial killers. I don't think that's too much to ask.

10. People who murder in the name of religion. I worry that Dr. Tiller's murder might indicate a return to some of the anti-choice violence we saw in the early and mid-90s. Also, it's been a long time since I've been to church, but I'm pretty sure "thou shalt not kill" is still included in the Ten Commandments. Some of the discourse and reporting about Tiller's murder scares me.

With all of this, let me add some positive things:
* My BFF and I came up with a great idea for a book that we're going to work on together - no details until I have a contract, but it's a good one.
* I noticed that one of my neighbors listens to books on CD when she's working in her yard, so I stopped by and gave her Tom Perrotta's Little Children on CD that I've had forever. She returned it the following week with some lovely chocolate pound cake.
* I have season 4 of Weeds on DVD.
* I'm as busy as I want to be.
* I have some really great friends who can make me laugh even when I am in a funk.

*Song by Rufus & Chaka Khan

Now it's your turn to help me on my quest for living a positive and balanced life. Tell me something good. Tell me that you love me. Tell me what you do love (even if it's celebrity gossip...I'll forgive you). Post a link to some good news. Tell me you're the one who called DHEC on my douchey neighbor. Tell me how great I look without makeup and with puffy eyes. Give me the name brand of sunscreen 60SPF or higher that won't make me look like I've rolled in Crisco. Just tell me.

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Friday, May 29, 2009

"That's only 12 job, lazy woman!"

I'm probably dating myself here, but if you remember the early 90s you might have seen Keenen Ivory Wayans' sketch comedy show "In Living Color." I was in or just out of high school and watched it every week (loved the Fly Girls...Jennifer Lopez was one and Rosie Perez did the choreography). Also, Jim Carrey (back then known as "James Carrey") was hilarious.

For some reason, I was thinking this week - as I juggled some volunteer work with some freelance writing with some career transition counseling clients - about a recurring sketch on the show called "Hey Mon." The sketch was about a West Indian family called The Hedleys. I could explain it to you, but it won't be funny because I can't do an accent properly in writing. It's one of those things you have to see yourself:



Earlier in the week, I ran into a neighbor while walking Lou and she asked me what I've been working on. I tried to give her a brief rundown but stopped around the five-minute mark when I saw her eyes start to drift. I should have just said "I work from home and I have many jobs, woman" (in a West Indian accent). But I try hard not to be one of the neighborhood crazy ladies (the ones I will cross the street to avoid if I see them sitting on their porch...I promise to tell you the one about the lady who thinks my dog is a fox).

OK, so here's the summary of my current jobs:

Freelance writer. Have written a few pieces for Charleston Mag, one for Breathe Magazine, one for Lowcountry Dog (you can see the issue online and my piece is on page 5), one for an issue of Charleston Home that isn't out yet, and I'm working on a few more for various pubs that are due next month.

Media Buyer. I'm working for an amazing interactive ad agency, Broad Street Interactive. It specializes in "hyperlocal," geographic- and demographic-targeted online ad placement. I've helped build huge ad networks for various clients, many of them nonprofits and lobby organizations. Coolest one so far: We have a network of media outlets for online advertising broken down by Congressional Districts across the U.S. Check out the web site for more of what we do.

Career Transition Consultant. I've taken on several clients as a career counselor for Willows-Marsh Employee Lifecycle Consulting. The woman who is the managing partner is amazing and I love working with her.

Author/Speaker. I'm still doing discussions, signings, and readings for my book, Skirt Rules for the Workplace. Many are private for specific companies or organizations, but I list the public events on my book web site.

Volunteer. I volunteer for the Center for Women once or twice a month for its career counseling program and am currently doing volunteer marketing work for the new Planned Parenthood Health Center in Charleston (grand opening and ribbon-cutting ceremony June 12 at 4pm!).

OK, I know that's only five job, mon. But I didn't include Freelance Publicist, Social Media Consultant, Ad Copywriter, or any of the other freelance gigs I've been working on here and there. And that should bring me up to 12 job, mon. Which proves my theory that I'm a workaholic by nature - even at home, on my own schedule, on my own time, even with three Netflix movies, the TV, and the couch calling my name.

And let me add that VisualCV.com is the coolest online invention since Twitter. You can see ALL of my jobs here.

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Friday, April 17, 2009

The downside to working from home...

Is that you're home all day. Which means you're home when the doorbell rings. I've had two solicitation visits this week from people selling weird "natural cleaning products" (they really need to do that door to door?), one from a sketchy guy selling "magazines" (I saw that one coming and told him I didn't know how to read), and this afternoon, one from two Mormons on bicycles who wanted to know if I'd be interested in discussing the fact that there is a prophet on earth.

Nothing against Mormons - I actually know a few progressive Mormons and they're nice folks - but I don't like home visits from religious types, especially if they're part of a religion that almost singlehandedly helped raise the most money to support Prop 8 and defeat legal same-sex marriage in California.

So when the LDS boys showed up on my doorstep, I didn't invite them in. I let them begin their spiel earnestly before I held up my hand to interrupt. "Nothing personal, guys. I'm sure you're very nice people. But your religion isn't inclusive. In fact, your church donates millions of dollars to make sure gay people will never have the same rights as everyone else. Therefore, I don't want to hear what you have to say."

They both just stared at me. "Unless that's something you're willing to discuss before you leave me with a bunch of pamphlets about LDS?"

I got a mumbled "thanks ma'am" from one of them before they backed down the steps.

Honestly, if I hadn't been in the middle of a project that required my full concentration and if it hadn't been the 4th time this week I'd been interrupted by people ringing my doorbell, I might have invited them in if they'd been willing to discuss why their church hates gay people. I might have told them that some of my very best friends are gay, that my sister is gay, and that I think there is something very wrong with a religious organization putting a great deal of money into a campaign against equality (particularly in this economy - aren't there other things the Mormon church could have done with all of that money instead of taking out hateful anti-gay ads?). Also, my gaydar works with almost 100 percent accuracy and I think I picked up some vibes from one of those LDS guys, so it might have been an interesting discussion. I actually enjoy debating theological issues.

If I worked in an office, they never would have made an assumption that I had the time to listen to their story of a prophet that walks the earth, of the Book of Mormon, or read their pamphlets. But because I work from home, they probably think I'm a shut-in, a housewife with some time on my hands, or independently wealthy and extremely bored.

Maybe I was a little mean about it. I hadn't realized how much pent-up hostility I've been carrying about the issue. And I still don't understand how same-sex marriages is going to "lessen the validity" of heterosexual marriages, more than 50 percent of which end in divorce anyway. In fact, I believe I just heard that notorious religious zealot and bigot Mel Gibson and his wife are divorcing. Even though his church "doesn't believe in divorce." Are there any religious groups left on the planet that aren't comprised of stunningly ignorant hypocrites?

To sum up, I'm going to ignore the doorbell during the day unless Fedex or UPS truck is outside. Because I don't want to be responsible to marring the psyches of a couple of young, earnest, naive LDS "messengers."

Also: I know I have a good thing going. I get to work for myself in my pajamas most days, come and go as I please, pick and choose the projects I work on. And I'm happy. But don't think that means I'm going to stop bitching about day-to-day bullsh*t. Because I am fairly certain I will always do that. A Zen mind is a lifetime pursuit, yes?

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