Just Focus and Go Deep

Tonight while I was driving around in my car I was listening to a lecture given by Brad Feld at Stanford University on entrepreneurship. Brad graduated from MIT and has started, sold, and invested in many successful business ventures. Despite the fact that i cringe at the way he pronounces "entrepreneur" (which i will forgive him for. Poor guy is too smart for his own good.), he is pretty fun to listen to. After the lecture, he opened up the mic for a Q and A session.  One student asked Brad what MIT taught him about entrepreneurship. His response was: "I don't think MIT helped me as an entrepreneur. What MIT did was teach me how to think. My experience was very simple. MIT was a constant assault on my self-esteem. From day one all the way through. continuous. I was top of my class in high school and got a 20 on my first physics class at MIT. What do you do when you are 17 years old, fresh into college and get a 20 on your first test? You go to your room, shut the door and cry for an hour. But I look back on it and it taught me how to go deep on a problem, and stay on a problem even if I was lost, and keep doing it and digging at it until I got somewhere. You just focus and go deep."
Here's why i loved what he said: There comes a time in our lives, several times even, where we look at our lives and realize we have no idea what the crap is going on. Or atleast that's my experience. Half the time I feel like my life is characterized by a run-a-way horse and I'm the goofy pig-tailed girl flopping around behind it hanging on for dear life. Through it all, I've been blessed to learn that a loving Heavenly Father is at the reigns and I just have to "focus and go deep" and keep trying to fight my way back up to the saddle. Right now I feel lost about a lot of things...my health, my next step...but I know I must be patient and put first things first. So I'm going to focus....focus on my health and doing what i can to feel better so I can move foward. And so I start my cleanse tomorrow...ready or not (and i'm not, but what the hey). I'm gonna have to dig deep in the beginning. Its no easy feat to cut out all processed things, my beloved caffeine, dairy, bread, sugar, etc. But I have to keep my eye on the prize and know it will be worth it to not feel like i'm dying every day if this helps. So thank you Brad for your words of encouragement, even if they were meant for business and not my personal issues.  "Focus and Go Deep" just might make it up on my wall with some of my other favorites such as being  "Creatively Disciplined" and practicing "Diligent Joy". I'll leave you with those thought provoking little tidbits....

"I'm waiting for my friend...."

We all have the occasional awkward and unusual encounter with perfect strangers out in public. I thought i'd share my latest.

My friend stefanie needed a ride to the airport in the middle of the night/early morning so i volunteered because a) i'm usually up at odd hours of the night and b) i'm awesome.  Don't forget that. We stopped to get gas on our way out of winston and I went in to stock up on caffeine since I was already feeling a little tired and i had atleast 3 hours driving until i got back home. As i went to get my drink of choice, i ended up in a minor altercation with the door of the cooler thingy. Don't laugh...it was hard people. I approached the counter to pay and, being my usual friendly self, made a joke about the drink cooler being jill-proof. Nothing. No laugh, no obligatory "i hear ya", not even a smile. Just a blank stare from the girl. okay fine, no talking. you hate your job. i get it. I was about to walk out the door when i hear behind me a random "I'm waiting for my friend."

I turn around to face the counter girl and find her about 5 feet away, holding a shiny dime in the air.
"Do you see how shiny it is?" she asked, clear excitement in her voice.
"I do...that is one shiny dime you have there" I replied.
 "Do you know what year it's from? 1964!" she exclaimed, "This dime is real silver, not like the ones we have today."
"Oh," I said, "Are you a coin collector?" (I should note that i'm now half inside, half outside the door with stefanie just watching and waiting for me, probably wondering what the heck kind of conversation i got myself into now)
"No, I don't care about coins. I just save them for my customer friend. He comes in almost every night to get coffee. He trades me cookout shakes for them."
"Hey now, that's a nice trade!" I told her. I then waved and smiled and hurried out the door before she could keep going. Its not that i'm mean, i just have places to be.

So here's my question, a point that stefanie made as i recounted the story once we were back on the road. If she trades the coins for cookout shakes, does that mean her drawer is always off at the end of the night? Certainly she "buys" the coins from the store first. And what was with the silent act until i'm almost out the door? As for the encounter....Strange? kinda. I've had much stranger. Awkward? Definitely. But hey, it's these kind of things that make life interesting, yeah?

You Can Make Your Pathways Bright....

Sometimes I have a hard time accepting my reality. And so, in order to deal with it, i choose not to deal with it. Instead I find myself waiting....waiting for the day when "it" is over.  Whatever "it" is. Somedays its being depressed. Somedays its being overweight. Somedays its being irritable or anxious. Somedays its the pain that has taken over my body.  Speaking of that pain....did you know it is a 3 month wait to see a specialist? 3 MONTHS. My doctor recently got lab work back that warrants sending me to see a rheumatologist. My appointment is literally not until january. I guess its a good thing i'm not dying. Just one more thing to wait for. But you know what? I'm so so so so sick of waiting. I'm sick of not being able to get out of bed until I absolutely have to. I'm sick of being energetic and happy one minute and being irrationally angry the next. I'm sick of crying for no apparent reason except that i feel guilty for my mood swings or my lack of willpower lately. I just want to be ON THE PATH....on the path to healing, in whatever form that is going to be. Does my medication help? absolutely...and i'm grateful to have it right now while i'm learning to cope with all of this. But I don't really fancy being on medication for the rest of my life. That's right, i said fancy. There are things going on with me that I legit cannot control. But there are things that i can, things that i can do for myself that will make my path easier. Like getting more sleep (check on that one...almost too much if i do say so myself), eliminating foods from my diet that don't support healing, less stress (doing well with that one too...go ahead, pat me on the back. i don't bite).  Why have I not done many of these things already? Well, please feel free to reference that sentence up there....yeah, that one about the willpower. I don't know why except that i just...couldn't. (Please keep all of your opinions about my willpower to yourself, they won't help my guilt problem.)  And so, I can see my path....all lit up and lined with rows of spinach. Imma gonna go get my Popeye on....anyone wanna come with?

Letting Go

I've always thought that I was someone who forgave easily.  "Forgive and Forget" seemed like something i was pretty good at....until i discovered that it wasn't.  I've admitted to myself recently that i never really forget. Bothered by this, I've often wondered if that means I don't truly forgive people. I certainly want to. Maybe I just don't really know how. I suppose I can't "forgive and forget" properly because I look at the situation selfishly. How could they possible do this to me after I've loved them so much, how can they not understand me, why can't they just love me for me when I love them for them?...etc.  You know the drill. When I look at most of my heartbreaks over something or another, I realize it was hardly about me at all. It had to do with them. Still, I struggle with letting go. Letting go of my hurt, letting go of my victim-hood....because at some point along the way I've earned the right to feel jaded. OH THE INJUSTICE OF IT ALL! Laughable, am I right?

Being faced with the need to let go isn't easy for me. Especially not when it comes to matters of the heart. Those who know me know I love deeply no matter what the relationship. But sometimes the love you have for someone needs to be set free...so that you can truly move on and be happy for them in their life's events as they become separate from yours. I've learned that the longer I've loved, the harder it is to let that love go. I refuse to feel like all those years of loving are for naught. Instead I will try to find happiness in the lessons learned and the memories shared, and feel gratitude for opportunity I had to feel love in my heart. And then, with only a slight grimace, I will wish them all the happiness they can bear in this life and let go of them once and for all.

My House of Horrors

I was at my sister's house yesterday when she asked me "hey jill, do you ever feel anxious when delivering pizzas?" I knew she was referring to that horrible time i was robbed at gunpoint and they jacked my car while on a delivery. I answered yes to that question, but surprisingly not because of the robbery.

I recently stepped down from my position as a general manager and took on the role of special events manager (wake forest football games, basketball games, concerts, etc) due to health reasons. Because special events only takes up a day or two a week, i fill in my time by running some shifts here and there and mostly driving. I was transferred to a store that has quite the abundance of country. At night sometimes i find myself delivering to houses out in the middle of the woods where, upon driving up to the house, i think to myself "wow this would be a fantastic setting for a horror movie." And while that might seem funny to most people, we all know my inability to tolerate movies like that. So, what makes me anxious? The other night I was delivering to a customer. It was rainy and dark, and as i curved back and forth on the back-country road I started to come up on a small bridge over a little creek when it happened...a flashback. One i hadn't thought about in a while, or at least since the last time it was rainy and i crossed over a bridge like that in the middle of nowhere.

I was eight years old. My dad, my sister, my brother and I had all been in High Point visiting my grandparents. It was pouring....like flash flood type of pouring. As the roads even became flooded my dad decided we needed to hurry and get home before it got worse. In those days, the best way to get to High Point was by back road i believe. My dad had a pickup truck with one of those camper tops on it. We often sat back there on bean bags (yes, lets hear the collective gasp. These were in the days before "click it or ticket"...ya'll remember, right?) Anyway, I remember looking out the window and being amazed at the flooding that was happening. Knowing me, i was probably also a little paranoid. We were driving near the Davidson/Forsyth county line when we came upon Muddy Creek.  There was a car ahead with flashers. And when we looked to the left....there was a large woman stumbling up the creek bank covered in blood. Those of you who know me know that this quickly became a jill-unfriendly experience. My dad pulled over and hopped out of the car. Apparently this woman and her fiance (they were to be married the next day) had run off the road and into the over-flowing creek. The car was in the creek bed and the water was so high that the car could not be seen.  She was bloody from fighting to get out of the car and fighting her way up the briar-infested bank. Her fiance had not made it out of the car.  My dad came back to the truck to get a rope...he was going to tie himself to the bridge and jump in to try and save him. I was terrified watching this all from the truck. I kept fearing that the bloody woman would come up to the truck window where us kids were....and i was very scared of her. I was further terrified when i saw that my dad was going to jump in the now rushing river. As my dad prepared to go, he got a strong impression that it was too late and he need not risk his life by jumping in. Now as an adult, i cannot imagine the horror that woman went through, not to mention losing her fiance the day before their wedding.

Whenever i cross a small creek bridge on a rainy day or night, the fear of that experience comes back to me like a flash of lightning. And then i get a feeling of gratitude....gratitude that i have a father that had the courage and compassion to try and save a stranger. gratitude for the knowledge of what happens when we die. gratitude for a loving Savior that comforts us in trying times such as when we lose a loved one or when we are scared. And gratitude in that same Savior who paved the way for us so that we can live again.

Hot Dog! That There's a Weiner....

I know that according to any of you PETA people out there, this probably shouldn't be funny. 

News flash: it is.

Part 2

The way i just wrote that whole story seems so clinical. I hate writing that way. But I wanted to give those I love the history...so that maybe they could understand what i've been dealing with, and maybe they could look back and see the signs that were in front of us all. Here's the thing....I can't wrap my own head around it. I don't know how to get you to understand. I don't know what this means going forward. But I do know one thing....this too has its purpose. Maybe its just my inner hypochondriac speaking, but I've always known I would have to deal with some kind of illness, and that it would be significant in my life. Maybe that's even why I get so freaked out about every little ache and pain. I mean really...i'm quite obsessive about it. Annoyingly so, some might say ;). I was prepared as much as I could be for some kind of physical illness. I was in no way prepared for a mental one. I mean, I know myself....people like me don't have a mental illness, right? I know that logically its an absurd thought, but it's one that apparently i'm fighting against. Moving forward, i want to ask for everyone's patience. This is a frustrating time for me, and I know its frustrating for some of you that are closest to me. But it's all going to work out, and I know that because God always has a purpose. And I will discover that purpose and use it for good. That is my promise.

It's Not Easy Being Green....I mean Blue.

"It's the loneliest feeling in the world--to find yourself standing up when everyone else is sitting down. To have everybody look at you and say "what's the matter with her?" I know what it feels like. Walking down an empty street, listening to the sound of your own footsteps. Shutters closed, blinds drawn, doors locked against you. And you aren't sure whether you're walking towards something, or if you're just walking away." 


I didn't write that quote, but i most certainly can identify with it. I've been trying to decide how to write about this subject. The reality is I don't know how. But i'm going to anyway, because it's important. It's important because i need to be heard. It's important because somewhere out there somebody is going through what i have, and nobody wants to talk about it. So I will.

I think I've spent most of my life feeling a little like an outcast. I felt like that with my friends growing up, I felt like that with my family....It wasn't anything they did or didn't do, I just felt that way. Like i was holding my breath, waiting for them to run away from me. This may come as a shock to those who have known me my whole life because I never really talked about it, but its true. I guess as I got older I just assumed everyone felt that way. And maybe they do....I believe we all have it in us to feel scared we aren't enough in some way. When I was in middle school I began to notice my tendency to drop into what I know now was depressive episodes. It was intense, and I remember specifically being in 7th grade, lying on my bed to the glow of christmas lights I had hung in my room, listening to music I had recorded from the radio. I remember crying myself to sleep sometimes, just because i felt misunderstood or sad. I didn't talk about it because I didn't know how. I was afraid I wasn't normal. The first real time i remember atleast trying to talk about it was with my friend i've known the longest in this world. She was staying the night, and while we laid in our respective beds I just began crying. She heard me sniffling and asked what was wrong. I couldn't tell her because I didn't know. She probably doesn't even remember that experience, but I do.

In high school I forgot about that stuff mostly...I was too busy trying to find where I fit and having fun. You see, I have these two sides to me. On one hand I can be talkative, energetic and a ton of fun. On the other I can be broody, quiet and extremely introverted. I've always done my best writing during those times by the way. Looking back I wish I would have recognized things for what they were. But I was so afraid of being different, afraid of being weak or fragile. Surely everyone else felt just like this too, right? I tell you all this now because some people might ask "well where did this come from out of the blue?" It's not out of the blue. You just didn't know about it.

The past three years especially have been my very own version of Dante's Inferno. My experiences themselves haven't been that bad per se, but strictly speaking about the raging battle inside of me. And now i'm just tired. The pivotal moment i'm sure was being car-jacked three years ago. That really became the catalyst for what was to come. As a result of that event, I felt like everything I had ever struggled with came back to the surface to haunt me. After the panic attacks started came a really really bad bout with depression. I'm not sure i would have survived through that as well had it not been for an angel during that period of time. She knows who she is. It was very apparent for me why I had been sent there to her and her family. I needed her and she needed me. Funny how Heavenly Father works things out like that, ya know? It wasn't until after I had been struggling with panic attacks and depression for some time that I finally sought counseling. It took them about 10 minutes to diagnose me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The sessions helped and i refused medication because i didn't believe in it. Not for me anyway. Plus i was hanging on to the hope that it would all just go away. During this time I also developed a bit of social anxiety. I had never dealt with that before, and I watched myself helplessly as I became flaky....I would be on my way to some event or meeting and just turn around and go home. I just couldn't face other people sometimes. I don't like flaky people, because I had never been that. It was really hard for me because I couldn't control it. I would go home and find the smallest space in my room to hide in. There was a small space between my bed and the wall that was my favorite. That summer I moved home and started feeling a bit better, so I thought i was in the clear....foolish me. As I moved again and began the stressful schedule of going to school full time and working full time, the panic attacks got worse. way worse. The only thing that made me really feel better was to call my mom or go to Provo to hang out with my brother and his wife. I should have sought help, but I just kept holding on to that hope that one day it would just stop. I'm not sure at what point exactly that it happened, but the panic attacks took over my life. I'm talking full on panic disorder. Sometimes a few times a week, sometimes a few times a day. Sometimes they even lasted ALL day. Wanna know what a panic attack feels like? Pretend you are having a heart attack and there is nobody to help you, you feel the terror as the reality sets in that you are getting ready to die and can't do anything to stop it. That's what it feels like. It seems extreme and over dramatic, but its the truth. It is very traumatic. Over and over again. Even just thinking about it now makes my skin crawl. Can you see how this could make you depressed? Through it all i just began to feel numb...mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

My sister once said I wear my panic attacks like a badge of honor. You're darn right I do. I've earned it. It's the toughest thing i've ever had to deal with, and i wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Not a soul. So I will feel proud of myself for making it through all of that completely unmedicated. I felt like xanax was a cop-out, even when i wanted something to make me feel calm. I didn't want an addiction problem either. As I moved back to NC and took on a very stressful job, things just got worse. Panic attacks, depression....I ended up back in counseling this spring. This guy was awesome, but we made a lot of ground and I felt like I was done. And that was a mistake. During this time I also started talking to my doctor about my panic attacks. I had decided I was ready to try medication because it wouldn't go away and I was just so tired of fighting. Of course I picked the one doctor who doesn't believe in medication until absolutely necessary...and I'm really grateful for that. At the time not so much. I saw him several times over the next few months before he finally suggested something for my anxiety. Physically everything checked out, so he put me on an anti-depressant that is commonly used for anxiety disorders. At first I thought it was okay...i was sleeping a bit better. But the side effects were a doozy and I didn't much care for them. about the time the medication was supposed to kick in, I ended up at the beach with my family for vacation. I noticed that week that not only did my anxiety pick back up, but I also was feeling kind of empty again...depressed. The next few weeks, my anxiety and panic attacks got way worse, my mood swings escalated, my fatigue was incredibly bad....it really is kind of a blur to be honest. I ended up in the hospital because I had the worst panic attack i've probably ever had (which is saying alot) and couldn't stop crying. They pulled me off the medication and I went to see my doctor. After a very long conversation detailing my experience on the anti-depression, the nature of my panic attacks, and other things, he said "I'm about 95% sure you're bipolar."  Let me just tell you, I never wanted to hear something like that. I've been devastated ever since. But something about it resonated in my gut...almost like i knew. I knew he was right. He told me that one of the quickest ways to tell if someone was bipolar was to put them on a unipolar medication and watch them get worse. We still have some tests to do before the definitive diagnosis, but I just kind of know. I can't explain how, but I know my own truth.

Just Some Jilly Thoughts

I just want you all to know that I've had a ton to write about this past month. I just haven't because i didn't know what to write. Does that make any sense at all?  If there were a word to describe both fantastic and horrible at the same time, I would rename the month of August.  I had so much fun with my family as we went down to the beach and spent some time together. My brother and his wife (along with their two adorable kids) came to NC and we were all together for the first time since before they had kids.  I never wanted it to end, and i never wanted them to go back. I've been in such a struggle for some time now, and it finally reached its pinnacle this past month. So that beach trip...it was more than just a vacation from my job. It was a vacation from myself. I truly truly desire to start writing more in depth about some of my struggles, and feel like i should do so. But i've been holding back because i'm scared. Scared of what people i love will think.  Scared you will all think i'm being way too personal, or that i want pity or attention, or that i'm just being dramatic. Scared you won't take me seriously. But i have a drive that is beyond all of you, not because i don't love you, but because I feel like I have a duty to write about my experiences so that someone out there, someone who doesn't have the amazing support system I do, will know that they aren't alone. Because alone is sometimes a very scary place to be.

Musical Musings

I was listening to some music and decided i'd let the music and a few excellent songwriters do the writing for me tonight. These are a few of my favorite songs, by the way. Hope you like them!