I'm writing about Being Bouncy because that's the relatively new way that I look at myself, and my life, and I'm hoping if you read this blog at all, you'll be encouraged to do the same. I have an essay about it that I'll post forthwith. In a nutshell, I'm bouncy because I have to be, and you can be, too. Saying yes more in life and keeping a perspective are both things that can really help you bounce back from life's inevitable curveballs.
Full disclosure: I'm a teacher and a writer, not a shrink or a self-proclaimed self-help guru. There are neither crystals nor chakras involved in this blog (but if you like them, more power to you). I'm not going to tell you to meditate your problems away, though I will put in a huzzah for meditation in general, because it can make you a bit mellower and not yell at people as much. I'm not a Pollyanna and my life isn't always rainbows and unicorns. It's also shit and dark clouds and deep depression. But usually, not. So don't freak out. I'm well-medicated and have spent many, many years learning to take care of my wonky brain chemistry. And if you think you have wonky brain chemistry, by all means, go see a qualified doctor! Don't take St. John's Wort and hope it all gets better. Modern medicine saved my life, and it saves lives ALL THE TIME. So don't fuck around.
My influences and inspirations are many-fold: Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess), Maria Bamford, John Green, This is How by Augusten Burroughs, and, for being just a kick-ass writer in general, Junot Diaz. (There is a reason he won the Pulitzer.)
But make no mistake. I am writing about mental health, and that ever-present buzzword, RESILIENCE. But I call it being bouncy, as you will see in the essay below:
On Being Bouncy
I’m bouncy. Kind of like Tigger. Also a bit like Piglet, for anxiety, and Kanga, for love, and on a really good day, Zen like Pooh. (But that’s another essay altogether.) Overall, I am Tigger. I’m up, I bounce. I fall. I get back up because there’s a spring in my ass. Here’s why:- Having undiagnosed multiple mental illnesses throughout my childhood and into my early twenties. Bouncing back to find myself having somehow survived college, in spite of making many stupid and reckless choices, and my mother saving my life by finding some answers.
- My parents divorcing, leaving us all living a in a groovy and totally swingy 1970s vibe while adults around my sister and I acted like teenagers, changing partners and keeping secrets. Bouncing back by being happily married for 22 years and counting.
- Falling in with a highly dysfunctional quack who played with my meds, and my life. Bouncing back by moving south of the border to start again.
- Having a breakdown in Southern California while I worked at a soul-sucking ad agency from hell. Bouncing back by finding my dream job, and practicing getting good at it.
- Losing a baby when five months pregnant because he had no kidneys and there was no hope. Bouncing back by giving birth to the two most cherished and wonderful children of all time. (in my opinion)
- Moving every couple of years with small kids, while having to start all over again and again, finding new friends, work, another doctor, dentist, hairdresser, mechanic. Bouncing back by keeping the family safe, healthy and intact, and in school, where appropriate, without missing a semester, and with a travelling husband in the mix as well.
- Having another breakdown, fleeing my job, which was literally making me sick, and getting a new diagnosis that added to my brain chemistry drama. Bouncing back by doing everything in my power to be healthy and try to stay that way as much as possible.
- Moving yet again. Bouncing back by finding a haven for my family and me. beautiful friends, a supportive work atmosphere, and my idealistic intentions for the world still intact.
As Hercules Mulligan says in “Hamilton”, “...I need no introduction. When you knock me down, I get the fuck back up again.”
Yes. I am bouncy. Like Tigger.
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