L.J. LaBree

Finally I can Take a Breath…

August 14, 2023 L.J. LaBree

Hey Everyone!

Life must have decided to kick things up a notch since I last wrote in May.

To summarize:

I was deep in the thralls of apartment hunting – my roommate and I decided that although we enjoyed each other’s company, our desires for the future wouldn’t allow for us to stay under the same roof. So, at the end of our lease, Jazz moved back home to Maine, and I moved into a cozy au pair-esque apartment in Waltham just big enough for myself and Spooky. It wasn’t easy to find this apartment, that’s for sure!

I must have looked at over 15 different apartments, and unfortunately over half of them were barely a step above the exaggerated dives you often see in movies – cracks in the walls, water-damaged wood floors that creak if you look at them wrong, and porcelain tubs with gobs of tape covering the holes where the faucets used to sit.

That wasn’t the worst part though. What took the rest of the cake was the landlords who wanted not only the security deposit and first month, they wanted the last month and for me to cover the realtor’s fee as well… along with an extra $100 a month for “pet fee” and an extra $100 for a ‘potential’ parking spot (meaning you might get one, you might not – it was all first come, first serve). After everything was said and done, the price would have been well over $1,900 a month – something very much out of my budget.

“Why not just get another roommate, Leah?” you might be asking? A couple reasons why that wasn’t in the cards this time around:

With the 7 other roommates I had in my first apartment in Medford, and the one who lived with me and Jazz in Cambridge who hated my guts because I didn’t let him control every minute of my life (including when I could use the bathroom – there were two in the apartment…), I had my fill of roommates. I needed to find a place where I could live and be unapologetically me. Don’t get me wrong – Jazz was a great roommate! One of the best I’ve ever had! But he was also a rare good roommate. those are becoming harder and harder to find, especially with my luck.
Building off the ‘finding a good roommate’ bit, I knew it would be increasingly harder to find someone who not only liked cats, but someone who Spooky would like and want to be around. She doesn’t usually like new people and will hide under my bed or wherever she thinks is safest. She especially didn’t like third roommate who often tried to rush at her and grab her when trying to pet her. He didn’t understand when I told him he needed to let her come to him first – let it be on her terms.

It took some time, but I finally did find a place that was well-kept, decent pay, and allowed pets for no extra fee. I even have my own parking spot! There aren’t any washers or dryers on the premises, so I need to go to a laundromat. But that’s okay – just one small compromise for the chance to have a space to myself and Spooky.

I’ve had a chance to slow down and take a few deep breaths. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do that – there’s been this perpetual feeling of impending doom and waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while now. It isn’t an easy feeling to get out of, especially when you’ve spent years just trying to survive and see the next sunrise.

I’m praying that this will be the last time I move for a while. It’s hard – and expensive – to move around every year! Constantly packing and unpacking really did a number on my anxiety.

I know it isn’t much, but all I’m asking for at this point is to stop and break the cycle of moving every year. I just want to live in a place where I can feel at peace and be with my cat. I want the chance to take more breaths and not feel like I have to bug-out at a moment’s notice.

Even Though Covid’s “Over”, the Mental Toil is Not…

May 12, 2023 L.J. LaBree

For the past three years, I have seen more change than I ever expected to see in such a short timeframe – several new jobs, new apartment every year, new roommates, etc.

Were it any other set span of 3 years, you could expect one job change, one move, and maybe two roommate changes.

But when Covid hit, all the “normal” rules went right out the window.

Suddenly, changing jobs every 6 months felt commonplace. Hiding from roommates who either wanted to kill you because they were tweaking, or almost burnt the house down with a stove fire because they didn’t realize that gas + water + fire was NOT a safe combination (nor was keeping their door closed while the flames hit the ceiling) became an every-Tuesday thing. And mentally prepping for a new move less than every year was to be expected.

Just recently, the WHO chief has declared COVID-19 as a global health emergency over. In other words, no more need to stand 6 feet from others, no need to wear masks within buildings (unless you want to, of course) and no requirements to have the Covid vaccine (again, this “requirement” now resides with the company, should they choose to enforce it.) While this is great news in its own right, I don’t think we should be pulling out the sparklers just yet.

This summer, I find myself in the throes of moving once again. Heavens only knows where I’ll be moving to, but this time I’m going to aim for only having a single black cat as my ‘roommate’. At least I know for certain she won’t be trying to kill me. Though, there have been several occasions where she would sit on my chest and push a paw against my windpipe at 3 in the morning. That is NEVER a wake-up call I want to implement as routine.

To tell you the truth, I’m scared of what’s coming. I feel helpless because I haven’t had time to prepare for yet another move, nor do I feel confident in finding a new place that will give myself and Spooky a sense of safety and security. It seems to be the case that all the landlords I’m trying to reach out to want me moving in as soon as possible, as opposed to an overlapping month before my current lease runs out.

I’m exhausted. I’m finding I can’t sleep as well as I used to at night, leaving me with only 4-5 hours at most to perform to expectations at my job the following day, if I’m lucky. Not only that, I’m feeling strong bouts of anxiety and depressive symptoms. Before you ask or suggest, I’m already in the market for a therapist. I’ve also been reading a few self-help books to keep me afloat. It isn’t the cure-all I would like, but I’m willing to take it if it means I get to keep some form of ‘normalcy’.

As May is Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to bring my worries and anxieties into the light. Mental health is not something to play around with. It is serious, a huge factor in our lives, and we need to take care of it just as much as we need to take care of our physical selves.

I’ve heard a lot of people put flak on the older generations, who will often say something along the lines of “getting emotional is a sign of weakness”, or “who wants to talk about their feelings? Back in my day, we just picked ourselves up, dusted ourselves off, and got back to work.”

I know a lot of people in my generation would easily tell the older people to stop being so toxic and that it’s okay to cry. But I think we’re missing the point. Back then, when my parents were our age, if you showed even a tiny bit of vulnerability, there was a high chance that someone else would take advantage of you. On top of that, because mental health really wasn’t a thing back then, those who showed enough of a neurological divergency were immediately sent to asylums and “made better” or often forgotten about.

It is so engrained into their DNA to not talk about their mental health, that even when I talk about seeing a therapist with my mother, who is one of the most open-minded people I know, she will immediately clam up about it and will try to offer other “tricks” instead, like eating cleaner or doing yoga or going outside for a little while and breathe in the fresh air. Granted, these are all great suggestions to help with the symptoms, but in the end they are just band-aids covering the continuing symptoms of what lies deeper within.

It isn’t her fault for feeling apprehensive about her child going to see professional of the mind. I have a feeling a lot of parents feel like she possibly does – as if she has somehow failed her child. No parent wants to have a sick child and not be able to do anything about it.

Thinking about this brings me to another thought – why is it that we as a society have no problem bringing our children to doctors of the body and not feel as though we are failing, but when the prospect of bringing our children to therapists, we are automatically failures as parents and need to feel ashamed? If you’re sick, you go to the doctor to heal the body. Why can’t we do the same for when the mind is sick? Why is there so much stigma around one, but not the other?

Thankfully, as time moves forward, it does appear this frame of mind is forming. More and more people are becoming comfortable talking about their mental health, especially at all stages. More and more medications are being made and clinically tried, each with the hope of helping people live more functional lives.

I hope it doesn’t end there, though. I remember seeing a long time ago on 60 Minutes a segment about scans done on the brain. It was fascinating to hear the doctors and scientists discover that our brains actually look different between a depressed brain, and a healthy brain. One day, I would love to have a scan done of my brain and actually see what chemical imbalances there may be going on in there. But I suspect this won’t be readily available to everyone and affordable for a while.

I suppose, for now, I just do a combo of what my mother suggested and what I want: going for more walks, eating healthier, getting exercise, and going to a trained therapist. While the Pandemic may be deemed “over”, there’s still a long way to go for mentally healing from all the anxieties and depression.

Thought of the Day

Catching Up Part 2

September 30, 2022September 30, 2022 L.J. LaBree

Next on the Agenda!

I’m still working at MIT, but unlike my previous position, which was temporary, I’m in a more permanent position!

You’re looking at the new Administrative Assistant II for the Space Research Department! It’s more than fantastic – it’s a breath of fresh air I didn’t realize I went without for so long! The team I work with is wonderful! Not to mention, they all take healthy work/office boundaries to heart. The work is keeping me busy, especially since classes started back up a couple weeks ago.

I’m still writing, though not as much as I would like. I’m currently working on short stories and supplying those to writing contests to keep my skills in somewhat decent shape. Plus, I’ve been taking workshop classes one of my bosses has introduced me to! Even if I don’t learn anything new from these workshops (which is impossible – there’s always something, even miniscule, to learn from) it’s still good to talk with others who are both new to the craft, and who are seasoned veterans.

I’ve also been reading a lot more self-help books too.

I’ve been experiencing some major burn-out symptoms – lack of interest in hobbies, constant fatigue, bouts of insomnia, and some major bouts of sadness and depression. I haven’t quite found a way to incorporate seeing a therapist into my schedule yet, (I know I know, it really should be something I need to do) but it is on my list of things to do! I promise. For now, I’m hoping the self-help books will at least alleviate some of the symptoms hindering me from moving forward.

It isn’t easy, as I’m sure plenty of you would agree, but at least I’m trying to get my emotions and mental health under control. Some days it feels as though I have this black veil swirling around inside my head, preventing my thoughts from collecting and organizing themselves. I can’t think about writing down the scenes that used to play out across the screen on the other side of my forehead. Nor can I even attempt to carve out characters and paint places within my mind to save my life. On those days, it’s a struggle to even focus on my job.

But, ever since I’ve started doubling down on reading self-help books, such as Burnout by Emily and Amelia Nagoski (sisters – Emily holds a PhD in Health Behavior with a concentration in human sexuality, while her Amelia holds a DMA ) and Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, by Lori Gottlieb, I’ve been using the tricks I’ve learned to help create the ladder out of this gross hole in the ground.

What sort of tricks have I been doing? You may ask? One way is recognizing that our bodies go through a cycle whenever we are presented with a situation – whether it be a problem with work, the home, family, whatever. It’s part of that ancient fight or flight response we have in ourselves, just like a rabbit being hunted by a hawk. Problem is, now-a-days we are expected to squash that response the moment we are presented with a stressful situation and become calm, cool, and collected. To prevent burnout, you have to complete the fight or flight response. It’s the only way to help prevent your brain from frying itself with so much stress.

I’ve been going for walks during my lunch break, sitting in small 10 minute meditation sessions, and just recently signed up for a walking challenge with MIT. It’s just a few small steps, but I’ve found these have been helping a lot better than doing nothing at all.

Another way I’ve been trying to complete the cycle is to listen to hypnosis meditations while in bed at night. I’ve found the days I partake in these sessions, I sleep better than the nights I didn’t listen.

Although things would work even better if I signed up with a licensed therapist, I unfortunately don’t have the funds to take care of that just yet. There are too many other things that require my attention. One of those infernal headache beings is the constant depressive black cloud that is student loans. I’m not out of the woods yet with them, but I’m in somewhat more of a stable place than I was around this time last year.

There are days where I find myself wishing I had never gone to college. I’m not proud of those days. I know I’m supposed to acknowledge those days exist, but I truly don’t want to.

Going to college helped me more than hindering me with debt and collectors calling me every other hour. If I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have met any of the people I have in my life today. I wouldn’t have learned the lessons I needed, and I wouldn’t have gained the experience I earned, allowing me to get to where I am.

Yes, I’m under a mountain of debt. And yes, I’m going to be under that mountain for the foreseeable future. But one of the most important things about life I’ve come to learn: situations, along with things and people, change over time. Nothing stays the same for long. It’s just like the seasons – they change every few months. So do we, as do our lives.

Who I was last year is not the same person I am today. Nor will I be the same person one year from now, or even in 6 months. Good things will happen, and so will the bad. It’s how I respond to both of those, and all the things in between, that will make or break me. It will work out – maybe not the way I initially wanted it to, but the end goal will still be the same.

There will come a day where I’m not just surviving anymore. I’ll be living.

I’m looking forward to that 🙂

Thought of the Day

Half-Year Catch-Up :-)

September 19, 2022September 19, 2022 L.J. LaBree

Hello everyone!

It’s been a hot minute since my last post. There’re a few things that are different now, so I’m going to be making several smaller posts.

First thing’s first – I moved… again.

One of my roommates, Jazz, and I moved over to Arlington together. It isn’t too far away from my job, nor from his, but it can get a bit frustrating when your supposed half hour drive turns into over an hour by 8am. The bathroom is also a bit weird. The toilet is sandwiched between the sink and the wall as though it was put there as an “oopsie, we forgot something important” afterthought.

Still, the apartment we have is actually pretty great! It’s a nice two bedroom apartment house with only one other apartment above ours. We get two parking spots off-street included, water included, washer and dryer hook-ups, and we’re allowed to have our pets with us! I’ll take the long drive to the office every morning and weird bathroom shape to keep this place for a while.

Plus, instead of having a third roommate who seemed to think he should’ve had full control over the communal areas, i.e. living room, kitchen, porch, etc, and not even like the idea of using the kitchen table and chairs without his permission (don’t even get me started on this!) it’s just the two of us living in peace and quiet. We actually enjoy each other’s company, plus we trust another to take care of our pets together. We have routines (at least, some semblance of a routine) that cohabit harmoniously, and we don’t feel as though we need to explain ourselves every time we want to use the kitchen, living room, dining room, etc.

We even have better dining room furniture. Though, it has been hard to break the habit of sitting on my bed and eating my breakfast there instead of the table like a normal person. Even harder to break that habit of your cat demanding to eat her breakfast in your bedroom instead of a nice safe little eating nook you created for her. Still, it’s there if we ever feel compelled to attempt normal eating habits.

I know it’s too early to say this, and I don’t want to create any Cosmic/Celestial Chaos fodder, but I truly would like to stay in this apartment for at least two years, maybe three. Ever since I moved to Massachusetts back in October 2020, I’ve noticed I’ve never lived in a place for more than one year. I lived in Medford from October ‘20 to June ‘21 because of unruly (and downright dangerous) roommates, lived in Cambridge until July ‘22, and now I’m living here. I still haven’t even unpacked fully yet, somehow deep down expecting some sort of outside force snickering in the dark and telling me I can’t live here anymore.

I hate moving. It disrupts my work flow, my home flow, and my personal flow. It means having to put extra energy in finding a place that is not only safe for me, but safe for Spooky too. It’s a dream of mine to have a house of my own, some place that isn’t too far away from MIT, yet is someplace where I can be surrounded by nature. Some place where I won’t be forced to move away and find a brand new place to hang my shower towel every twelve months. I feel the most at peace when I’m in nature. It’s where life makes sense. I realize now that the stable environment I had growing up, not having to move around constantly and take special care of my still-developing roots, was truly a blessing.

I get wanting to travel the world and see how beautiful and enchanting everything is. I get the feeling of being bitten by the Wanderlust Bug and having that urge to explore this ever-changing world we live in. But I also want to have a home to come back to. A place where I can call my base, my sacred space, my sanctuary.

I say all the more power to those who want to live in a van all the time. If you’ve got the mentality for it, I say go for it! That isn’t me though. I need a place to put my stuff and a place where I can sleep and not have half of my body be on constant alert.

I’m hoping, and praying, that I’m able to push myself forward and actually take the steps to make my way toward that dream home of mine in the next couple years. If I can just change the mentality of “I’m jinxing myself” to “I’m manifesting that home into reality”, then it’ll all work itself out.

It has to, right?

Thought of the Day

Happy (and Hopeful) New Year!

January 4, 2022 L.J. LaBree

Hi Everyone!

It’s been a few days since New Year’s Eve, but I wanted to wish you all a Happy New Year!

Last year was… well… in my opinion it was exhausting. It was frustrating at times too. But it was also a year of lessons.

I couldn’t possibly know what your lessons were, but I’m more than happy to share some of mine. One lesson I needed to learn, or reminded of, was to remember my self worth. Over the years, and spending those years with bad bosses or bad coworkers, (or sometimes both at once) made me forget some of the accomplishments I’ve made in the past. I forgot what I was capable of, and almost forgot how strong I can be.

But with the bad, comes the good. The family who stayed by my side, and the friends who stayed and came into my life, reminded me just how awesome I am. How awesome we all are, once we remember who we are meant to be. And sometimes, it’s as simple as knowing you’re kind. Or smart. Or brave.

Another lesson I needed to re-learn was patience. Growing up, I admittedly never really had a whole lot of it. And it doesn’t necessarily help that we’re living in a society where instant gratification is all the rage these days. We want things – happy and good things/events/people – to happen as soon as possible. We want them to happen now. I know I’ve wanted the good things to happen ASAP.

But, the world doesn’t work like that. I had a shower thought the other day – when we focus too much on the destination, we forget to observe the journey. It’s like planting a seed. You can’t plant one and expect a flower to show up the very next day. You wait and observe as the seed germinates, comes out of the shell, puts down roots, then comes up through the soil and out into the sunlight. It isn’t easy to wait. Believe me, I know! That being said, I can only imagine all the good experiences I’ll get to have once I stop, take a deep breath, and watch my surroundings.

To be honest, I’m hopeful for 2022. Realistically, the year will most likely have some issues we still need to work out. The clock doesn’t strike twelve and suddenly all our problems are solved. It’s gonna take some work. But, I am hopeful this new year is going to bring us some new light. And more importantly, new opportunities.

I wish you all a Happy, and a hopeful, new year.