How to change the trajectory of your life in 1,000,000 easy steps.
Last week I had a birthday. I hate birthdays.
I’m sure you’re asking “Do you also tell children there’s no Santa? The Easter Bunny isn’t real? Do you also hate rainbows, wish rain on parades, and kick pigeons in the park for fun?”
No. Calm down.
And I should clarify, I don’t hate your birthday, just mine.
A little about my history with birthdays:
I have one every year.
Every year my dad calls me and as soon as I answer, he starts off in to “I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday…” and tells me the same story about the day I was born, now 34 years ago. It’s my favorite tradition.
My sister always calls and sings me a funny version of Happy Birthday, my best girlfriends buy me cupcakes and pop champaign for me, I get texts and calls and emails and Snapchats and Facebook messages from all over the world.
With the exception of one minor “what am I doing with my life?!?!” meltdown phone call with mom before my 30th, getting older doesn’t bother me. In fact I look forward to the experiences I’ll have and the wisdom I’ll gain year after year.
(Doesn’t sound like someone who kicks pigeons, does it?)
So why do I hate my birthday?
For the last 20 years I have also spent every birthday depressed.
When I was 14 I remember feeling an overwhelming amount of sadness and confusion, there was an unexplainable weight on my shoulders and mind. Teary eyed, I sat cross-legged on my daybed and plainly told my mom, “I think I’m going to feel this way forever.”
I couldn’t quite put it in to words then, but what we now know is that the weight I felt, was the weight of severe depression. Several (rocky) years later I’d be diagnosed with bipolar II disorder.
Until my official diagnosis in my early twenties, I was simply in survival mode. Journal entries from my late-teens and early-twenties are filled with “what’s the point?” and eloquent “f*** it” prose. My favorite saying was “I don’t care.” I would cycle up and down about every three months and, inevitably, dip down in to depression right around my birthday.
Did I mention I hate birthdays?
Not long after my diagnosis I begrudgingly agreed to see a therapist. Up until this point my only therapy had been my writing, photography, and music. So one of my greatest fears was that if I learned to manage my bipolar and lift myself out of depression, I would lose my creativity.
My therapist assured me, I would not lose my creativity. She even had the audacity to assert that I’d be MORE creative.
That was just over 10 years ago.
In a recent podcast by Mike McHargue* he said:
“It’s not actually depression that creates great art but the way we cope with and recover from depression and darkness. Often our great creative output comes not during a time of suffering but after.
You won’t lose your artistic ability if you learn to cope with your depression. You may actually find you’re able to experience the joy of that art, more than ever if you’re able to look right in to the face of your darkness.”
I listened to this and wept.
I’ve had people look at me with disbelief when I tell them details of my story, and at times I don’t even believe the story is mine. Because 20 years after this illness tried to hijack my brain, 10 years after I started looking in to the face of my darkness, and 10 years after my therapist told me I’d be more creative… I’m more creative, and more joy-filled than I’ve ever been.
During my most difficult times, the best advice I was given is to “just do the next thing.” Take the next step.
At points in my life, the next step was to sit up in bed. The step after that was to stand up. The next step was to find a towel. Walk to the bathroom. Turn on the light. Turn on the water.
When battling depression, those seemingly “easy” steps are massively daunting.
There is no cure for bipolar disorder. This “time of suffering” will, for all intents and purposes, be a lifetime.
But, I learned how to cope with my depression and manage my bipolar through talk therapy (which I am a huge advocate for… bipolar or not), medication, my faith, and the ability to break down life in to small next steps. I appreciate the “small” steps because no step is really all that small. It’s the millions and billions of little steps/decisions/choices that are truly what shift the trajectory of our lives. We often fail to break life down to the smaller steps and celebrate that those are what actually get us to where we want to be. These are the steps that take 30 seconds, a deep breath and a shift in mindset. Small steps that we should allow ourselves to slowly incorporate in to our lives.
I’ve never been a morning person. I would hit the snooze 8 or 9 times until I had to rush to get ready, and the first thing my crusty eyes better see in the morning is a cup of coffee brewing.
Today, however, I give myself 2–3 hours in the morning to set-up and enjoy my day. I know, I don’t have kids and I have a flexible work schedule. But the point is, I took steps to form new, healthy habits. A few years ago I broke the snooze button habit. Last year I started getting up 5 minutes earlier. I did that for 2 weeks then would get up 5 minutes earlier than that. After a couple months I had formed a healthy habit that has me doing 30 minutes of yoga every morning. I eat breakfast, I write, I’m not rushed, stressed, and I actually enjoy a cup of coffee AFTER I’ve gotten ready and had some quiet time.
Doesn’t seem like a big deal? Talk to my mom, or my roommates. It’s a big deal. If I didn’t hate cats so much, grumpy cat and morning Angie would be besties.
Yes, I still hate birthdays… but that’s slowly changing. Step one on my birthday this year was rolling out of bed, flipping on the light and reading the birthday card from my mom. The all too familiar depression lingered just below the surface from the minute I woke up, but I knew a positive way to start my day was reading something from the woman who gave birth to me, who celebrates every piece of me… my humor, my sadness, my adventurousness, my bipolar.
This is me… 30 years ago. Woah.
And these were my bangs.
So I may still hate my birthday next year, and I may not want to celebrate it. But I will celebrate the small steps I take to not being such a grump ass on that day.
Viktor Frankl, psychologist and neurologist said “If you want to be more creative find a redemptive perspective on the suffering you’ve gone through.”
Last week, I vowed several things to myself for my 34th year: to make more space for “me stuff” (create space for rest & creativity), to share more of those creative things, and to start more publicly telling my story. This story.
It feels good to have taken this step. Thanks for being a part of it.
*Ask Science Mike. (February 1, 2016) 13:27 in to Episode 55 - Tithing, Creativity, and Tip Of Tongue Syndrome
