I’m not big on New Year’s Resolutions but I am a fan of annual inventories. I especially like to reflect on what went right. And I’m happy to report that 2023 was a vast improvement over 2022 when I was still recovering from the devastation of the bullying and death threats I endured during my brief move to Shitville.
I’ll never fully recover from the fallout of that nightmare, but I’ve made tremendous strides toward improved mental health. And so I will share with y’all a few of the positive happenings with the hope that if you’re struggling you’ll remember that things can get better. In fact, most of the things on my list of positivity came to pass in response to something negative.
(Almost) Daily Yoga
I took up yoga in 2000. I kept at it for a long time, then drifted away, vaguely vowing to one day resume regular stretching. This past April my sciatica (or whatever the heck it is) was so horrible I could not walk without excruciating pain and a pronounced limp. It was this pain that drove me back to the mat. Now, most days, I do about fifteen minutes of yoga, usually while blasting reggae. Fifteen minutes is practically nothing and yet this practice has vastly improved my mobility and eliminated my pain.
Green Smoothies
In the mid-eighties when I was living in Tampa, I frequented a dive bar called The Hub. Such a regular was I that I swear Paul the bartender could hear me pulling up in my ‘67 Valiant (oh, glorious slant six engine). I was barely in the door before he slid across the bar my preferred cocktail, a bottom shelf Cape Cod heavy on the cheap vodka.
“Here ya go, Toots,” he would say. Or, alternately, “Here you go, dumbass.” Regardless of word choice he always made it sound like a term of endearment.
I was thinking about Paul recently as I walked into the Juiceland in the Frost Tower, something I do several times every week. I originally got hooked on Juiceland green smoothies before lockdown. During lockdown I would make my own at home, and they were pretty good. But not as good as Juiceland. This summer, wanting to revive my good habit, I treated myself to a pretty pricey YETI tumbler offered by J-Land, with the promise of a regular discount and the hope of being inspired to juice on the regular. This could have turned into a situation where I left the tumbler on the counter to gather dust. Instead, my plan worked.
The kind employees always greet me warmly by name and, like Paul my bartender of yore, most know my order by heart, even though it is off menu: One Mr. Peabody, hold the spinach, double the kale. The better I eat (drink), the better I continue to eat (drink) and the better I feel.
Mushrooms
Before December 2022 I had only tripped on mushrooms a time or two way back in the eighties, without intent, and while drunk. In December 2022, inspired by all the scientific promises of better neuroplasticity and the quieting of PTSD symptoms, I began what would become a one-year experiment with psychedelic mushrooms. I took one big trip every month and, midway into this experiment, added in microdosing three days per week. The results have been astonishing. While I still get triggered at times, on a day-to-day basis the ambient anxiety that had been my constant companion since birth has quieted tremendously. Some days I note, with gleeful irony, that my mind is trying to feel anxious about not feeling anxious.
Barton Springs
One thing the mushrooms could not readily quell was my reaction to this past summer’s Heat Dome which, in addition to crushing my spirits, also killed two of my sheep. I spent many days in bed on the verge of tears, listening to the a/c unit struggling to survive, as I perused Zillow for property in New Mexico and New York, seriously considering leaving Texas for good. As with green smoothies, Barton Springs had been, pre-lockdown, a nearly daily source of rebirth for me, even when the temperature fell into the 30s. I resisted going this summer, though, reasoning that dealing with the traffic and then finding parking would exacerbate my stress more than that cold water would soothe it. Until, at last, beyond desperate, I braved these challenges. The relief when I jumped in was immediate and immense. I now go to the Springs as often as I can and I cannot emphasize enough the magic healing properties of this ritual. I also got myself this wonderful early birthday gift to make winter dips a little easier.
The Day Job
A couple of big financial fiascos at the end of last year, coupled with the major lockdown dive of my business, led me to do something I hadn’t done in decades—find a steady job. I only work four five-hour shifts as a docent at the O. Henry Museum each week, and while the pay is decent it’s not enough to support me financially. However, the mental health benefits are off the charts. The structure of a regular schedule is soothing. The work involves hanging out in a Victorian house and sharing history with visitors who are always happy to be there. This has been such an antidote to dealing with one too many cruel brides who took out their lockdown frustrations on me, as if I personally had set out to ruin their lives. Call me a cornball, but kindness truly does beget kindness and with each pleasant interaction I have, I become a better person.
Community
I first became aware of my agoraphobic tendencies back in the nineties. Tons of therapy helped me to mostly conquer this problem. But this is another area in which I backslid thanks to lockdown. I’m hardly alone in this struggle to leave the house and loneliness is rampant these days in part due to the collective isolation we experienced. I also know, despite being content being alone much of the time, that human beings need connection. I have found a solution in this not only with my day job, but also through both taking and leading sundry workshops. I took a great watercolor class through Laguna Gloria at the start of this year. And I’m happy to say that the free writing workshops I was hired to lead at the Hampton Branch Library have been extended through 2024. I also lead two monthly events at the museum—storytime for kids and crafting for adults. These are all fun, safe ways to be among humans, events where we focus not on our differences but our commonalities.
Asking and Receiving
April really was the cruelest month of 2023. Thelma the dog died of long term fallout from the Parvo she suffered as a puppy. One of my roommates—an old friend—went to prison. I got slammed into a wall and seriously injured by a two-hundred pound sheep. Most stressful, though, was the near death of Milo, my psychiatric service dog. He developed a sudden onset autoimmune disorder in which his body attacked itself, fully depleting him of platelets. Living with so many animals as I do, I strive for acceptance regarding the Circle of Life and, no matter how sad, when an animal is close to the end I usually let nature take its course. My deep attachment to Milo disallowed this. At the emergency hospital I was informed that his chances weren’t great and that any attempt to save him would require up to $10,000. Of this sum, they needed $3,000 before they would even start treatment.
I prefer giving to receiving and I am not a big fan of asking for help. Desperation ruled the day though. I put out a request on my social media, asking everyone to chip in a few dollars so I could get treatment started. The response was so swift and so overwhelming that just a few hours later I posted another request—that people stop sending money. I’m crying as I type this at the memory of such incredible kindness. Milo is alive y’all! He will be on medication the rest of his life. Further complications (his back legs collapsed) mean I can no longer take him with me when I go out in public. But having him here, beside me at home provides a comfort so vast I can hardly describe it. To all of you who contributed to his survival, I will never, ever be able to thank you enough.
I’d love to hear from you all about the things that went right for you this past year. I’m wishing us all a decent 2024. The world is a pretty terrible place right now, so much divisiveness, polarization and hatred. I’m going to keep focusing on trying to be as kind as I can—to others and to myself. What are you going to do?
NOTES:
There are a couple of tickets left for my birthday show at Hyde Park Theatre on January 7 at 3 pm. The roster of performers is amazing. I really hope you can join us. Here’s a link for tickets: https://www.sconecrone.com/scones/p/vlyr5s4ow4pfscn7287a4xf739jvxa
My twice-monthly FREE writing workshops at Hampton Branch Library begin on January 2nd, 5:30-7:30 pm. It’s very helpful if you register but if you forget you can still show up. Here’s a link: https://library.austintexas.gov/event/writing/write-spike-writing-workshops-spike-gillespie-7738254
My six-week Memoir Writing Workshops for Women resume at the ranch on Tuesday January 16, 2024. $150 per workshop. Email me for details.
Museum storytime for kids happens the penultimate Friday of every month at the Susanna Dickinson Museum. Crafting for adults happens every Final Friday. You can sign up for the Brush Square Museums mailing list to get reminders sent directly.
https://www.brushsquaremuseums.org/get_involved
I’m always looking for more opportunities to lead community workshops in writing and crafting. If you work for an organization that might be interested, or if you want to host a private workshop for friends you can email me.
Thank you all for subscribing to and reading this weekly offering of mine. I really appreciate it. If you’re in a position to subscribe for $5 per month/$50 per year I hope you’ll consider it. Another way you can help is by sharing this with someone you think might dig it. One-time tips gladly accepted on Venmo: @spike-gillespie.
Happy New Year!
Happy happy happy happy New Year, Spike! Speaking of agoraphobia, I drove yesterday IN THE RAIN without thinking about it! My agoraphobia got so much worse during what my friend and I call the panini. My mom was agoraphobic for years, and her dad and his sister had "nervous breakdowns," so I am on guard. Some day I will get to Texas to visit you! Love you! Tracy