Tag: Depression

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The Funk

I wish this blog were about “Da funk”, it sounds a lot more fun. But instead it’s about emotion and how we all (ok, how “I”) seem to feel out of sorts from time-to-time. I woke up this morning and had a great day, really. I went to a consulate to apply for my first visa out of the country, I was able to walk around downtown Chicago a bit, I rode the train in and out of the city, and I was able to spend time with my girlfriend doing all of that. There was really nothing that seemed to be bad about today, and yet I feel … I’m not sure how to describe it … Down, blue, out of sorts.

I know this happens every so often, I’ve talked about it before. Usually it’s a blue kinda feeling, but today it was just funk. I didn’t like it, but I also wasn’t sure what to do with its it other than ride it out. So I did. I went home, I took some time for myself and read. My girlfriend suggested we go to the movies and stop at World Market before-hand. I picked up some coffee that I absolutely LOVE, at 30% off I might add. I began to feel better. After dinner I felt so much better, and then I began to think.

I’m a big believer that our emotions must be felt and, if necessary, expressed. For me, I talk to friends a lot, I write here, and I journal. All these things are good ways for me to express how I feel. To let my emotion out of myself and not hold on to it. I held on to my emotions for years and all it got me was more of the same emotion. Once upon a time I had a therapist who asked me what would happen if I gave in to the sadness that I tried for so long to keep at bay. I told him I was afraid that if I gave into the sadness that it would never end. His response? I’ll never forget it … “If you don’t let it out, it never will end.”

That gave me food for thought. A lot of it. Today I try as best I can to just go with whatever emotion I feel. To spend some time and REALLY feel it. It’s a tough line to walk, I’m not gonna lie. It’s tough because there a re times when I just want to give in to the sadness or happiness. To just revel in it and forget about whatever else is going on in life. For instance, when I’m sad I sometimes just want to lay in bed all day, watch Netflix and eat pizza and ice cream. Or when I’m happy I want to spend all day with my friends playing in the park. Neither of those things are inherently bad, but you know what’s not there? Spending time working. Spending time doing things that fulfill me. In some ways they are about distraction. Heck, in many ways they are about distraction.

I know that there are type A personalities out there, those people who just want to, “get it done.” I’m not one of them. I’d rather chill out, relax and hang with my friends. I’ll admit it, I love doing that stuff. But in the end it’s not all that fulfilling. A quote I heard a long time ago was that, “Success is the continuous realization of a worthwhile dream.” That quote was by Dexter Yager, one of Amway’s greatest salespeople. That quote reminds me of what i want to do with my life. I want to inspire people. I want to help others feel better in life. I’ve said before, and I truly mean it, that if I can help one person not go through the crap that I have, if I can help one person improve their life, than I’ll have lived a worthwhile life.

So where does that leave me now? Yes, I’ve been in a funk today. But I don’t have to stay there. I can feel it and move on. For me, a type B personality, what’s the best way to move on? To do something for others. It helps take my focus off myself and it lifts my soul when I see others doing better. As with anything, you get whatever you focus on. if you focus on sadness, anxiety and depression, what do you get more of? Sadness, anxiety and depression. If you focus on love and service, what do you get? satisfaction and joy. That’s what I want to focus on, and that’s what I will focus on.

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Sick – 500 Words a Day – Day 29

Wow, is it really day 29? Only one more day to go. I wanted to skip today because I’ve been at home sick. On the other hand, I slept all day and find myself somewhat awake, so after spending 20 minutes on FB, I decided that I had to write today. It’s a weird feeling because I really don’t want to be doing this, but it seems more like habit than anything else at this point. Not that it’s a bad thing, just unusual. I really do feel like crap. Time for more EmergenC and zinc. Those are my go to’s when I feel bad. It usually gets me pst any feelings of sick in a day or so but right now, after a day in bed, I feel worse. I don’t get sick that often, my feeling is that in general I take care of myself, eating fairly well, with some slips, and working out regularly. I’ve noticed in the past that my depression creeps up when I get sick, or at least the feelings of sadness can creep up. I don’t feel that this time, but it’s happened enough in the past that I’ve wondered if some of my “sicknesses” have had a spiritual aspect to them. When I say that I mean if I’m depressed, am I more prone to being sick? Or do I simply not have the will to fight through being sick? I don’t really know about that, just thoughts that have crossed my mind. And I’ve noticed the pattern in others, too. Friends who seem to struggle with depression and isolating seem to get sick more frequently than those who don’t. Or maybe they just don’t want to be around me and tell me they are sick to get out of hanging out? Could be lol.

I do know that today I’m sick. And I can tell because I really wanted to do some acro at the beach tonight, followed by listening in on the Mumford and Sons concert at Montrose Beach. Instead, I’m laying in bed, sometimes freezing, sometimes sweating and typing this out. I’m definitely sick. And thirsty. I’ll be right back…

OK, one problem solved. But now I have not one, but two 65+ lb dogs on my bed vying for attention. It’s hard enough to type when one dog keeps dropping a rope in your lap to throw for them, but it’s almost impossible when another one has their head in your lap, too. I happen to love dogs, and it’s rare that Sarah, the other dog, comes up to visit. 417 words.

I’ve considered doing the prompt that was suggested back on day 13 or something. It was what would someone see if they looked through your window for 24 hours, but I’m still not sure. My rebel side says hell no, but it would be kind of fun, too. One more day to chime in, so I guess we’ll see if I’m up to it tomorrow. Hoping I won’t be sick, but right now laying in bed and sleeping sounds great. And I want to get over this sick thing ASAP, it’s my birthday Saturday 🙂

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500 Words Day Four – The Dark

I don’t talk about my depression much, except to some few trusted people. I fear people will misunderstand, and I’m not sure they can understand how deep and dark my depression has been. Maybe they can’t, and that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’ve been on this earth for 42 years and I’ve spent 15-20 of those years clinically depressed. When I was 15 I was diagnosed with bi-polar depression and hospitalized for 3 months. Something that I’ve only told a few people, it was actually my choice to be hospitalized. I did it because the only way I could see to feel better was to kill myself and I wasn’t ready to die. See, I’ve always been in love with life, I just couldn’t see how to live.

In the hospital, I was medicated and went through individual and group therapy. It helped. It started me on a path, but it was still a long journey. I was still depressed, but I think I hid it better. Or perhaps I just had a couple more tools to make life seem easier. I clung to my friends. I drank a lot and did a lot of drugs. In retrospect, I hid from my depression and ran towards what seemed like the quick easy fix of sex, drugs and alcohol.

But nothing ever really helped. I was still suicidal. I thought about killing myself. I thought about killing myself at least once a week, usually more often, until I reached my early 30’s. I never told anyone. I knew that under certain circumstances that you could be, at least temporarily, committed to a psych ward against your will if it was determined that you were suicidal enough. I had decided that if I were to kill myself, that it would be on my terms. No one was going to take away my choice to end my own life. So I kept quiet. I didn’t tell my friends, the people I dated, the woman I eventually married, nor any of the therapists that I saw over the years. It was mine alone to deal with.

And I did deal with it. I quit drugs and drinking, which in retrospect probably made it worse for a while. When it did get better it was because of a shit ton of intensive self work. I became more real to myself, I began to accept myself for who I was. I think that was a big part of my depression, I didn’t like who I was very much and always thought I “should” be different, more, better. I’ll admit, it didn’t help that I married someone who reinforced those beliefs on a daily basis.

So after a ton of self work, I dove more deeply into meditation and yoga. I began to feel even better about myself, I learned more on how to truly accept yourself for who you are, and I began to love myself.

Don’t get me wrong, the depression is still there, but it’s much better. I’ve learned how to manage it, I notice what triggers it and, more importantly, I know how to get out of it. I no longer run from my depression. Sometimes people ask how I’m doing and I’ll tell them I’m feeling a little blue. Inevitable they ask, “Why?” When I tell them there’s no real reason, they don’t seem to believe it, but it’s true. It’s also true I know it will pass, it’s just an emotion. Some days it will just pass, and some days it means it’s time to care for myself. Maybe see some friends, maybe see no one for a while. It could mean I need to get outside and play, or head inside for a yoga class. What it amounts to is that I need to do things that are good for my soul, that’s what ultimately brings me out of my depression. And that’s great, because that’s what life is really about.

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Back at it

Sooo… Two days ago a friend asked me how often I blog. My initial response, which I didn’t actually say was, “not often enough.” I didn’t say it because it felt like a put down on myself and I try not to do that anymore. What I did say was that I tend to blog in spurts, i.e. when the mood suits me. This has been characteristic of my life, I often do what I want, when I want. On the one hand, I kind of like living that way. On the other, my rebellious side kicks in and things I “should” do, or actually need to do, often get pushed aside until I get around to them. The quote (and I have no idea who said it), “do the things you need to do when you need to do them, so you can do the things you want to do when you want to do them,” often comes to mind. That’s something I do believe and it’s time to make that change in my life.

Then, yesterday another friend posted on his blog, Kale & Cigarettes, about an experiment he has done and is planning to do again. Writing 500 words a day and then posting it for everyone to see, and doing it for 30 days.

I’m doing this for several reasons. I see how this guy lives life what he’s done in life, and I think it’s pretty cool. While I have my own life to live, I do understand that there are certain practices we can incorporate into our daily lives that can make them better, closer to what we want. Daily blogging isn’t something I ever set out to do, but I used to journal daily and the changes I went through back then were pretty amazing.

I’m also doing this because, as I said earlier, I often only do things when I want, not when I need to do them. I recognize that my rebelliousness has served me in life, it’s a part of me that will probably always be there and one that I’ve come to recognize and enjoy. However, I’ll admit it gets in the way. When I want to do something and I know it’s good for me, but I don’t because of sheer stubbornness, it’s a problem. In a spoken word, Henry Rollins once said (and I’m paraphrasing), “Ruled by a plant, what  joke.” He was referring to drugs and alcohol but I think it applies to emotions and personality, as well. We all have them, it’s what makes us individuals, but we aren’t meant to be ruled by them.

I’m also hoping to become a better writer by doing this experiment. I’ve had many topics I’ve wanted to write about, but the “mood” just hasn’t hit me. One that I’ve tried to get out many times is living with depression, to try and explain what it’s like. I usually get about two paragraphs in and quit, it’s just too depressing, lol.

I guess I’m just looking to be a better person, a better man. I often fail miserably, but by making little steps in the right direction I hope I will eventually get there. So here is a little step that I hope will get me where I want to go. And in a salute to my rebelliousness, maybe I’ll only do 29 days. Or 60 days, who knows…

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Dream Come True

I started a new job this week…as a therapist. It all seems so crazy to me, but in a good way. I’ve told a few people the complete story of how I got to this point, but here’s some of it.

I am currently 42 years old and my journey to becoming a therapist started back when I was 15 and a Sophomore in high school. At that time I was hospitalized for major depression and spent three months in a locked ward. Thinking back, I really appreciate the support I received from my parents. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, they really were there for me. They did their best to deal with a child they loved, who was highly suicidal. As a parent myself, I can’t even imagine what they must have gone through, what they thought, what they felt. It must have been scary as hell.

Along with my parents support, I was seeing a counselor. His name was Mike and I saw him from the time I was 15 until I was 18 or so. He accepted me for who I was, he challenged my ideas/beliefs without trying to “change” me. He is one of the major reasons why I am alive today. And because of his example, of how he influenced my life, I decided at the age of 16 that I also wanted to become a counselor. To be able to give back a little, follow in his footsteps and maybe, just maybe, help some other kids who are going through a tough time in life.

Flash forward 27 years. It’s been a long journey, but I’m here, I’m standing in my office (I have an office!). It’s almost shocking. And it seems so fragile. Like it’s gong to be taken away at any minute. I realize that I’ve been waiting for the past year or so for things to fall through. For the world to go, “Haha, that’s gonna to happen.” It started with graduating with my Masters degree. I really didn’t think I’d make it through that final year. Working full-time, school part-time, doing my practicum (another 10-15 hours per week), trying to write my Senior Paper (thesis), going through a divorce, being separated from my son, trying to get another relationship going (which was a both a source of great support and stress). It all seemed too much. But I went ahead anyway and held my breath until I was holding my diploma in my hand. I did it!

Then came the job search. Eight months of searching and only one call back. That was rough. But I firmly believe that things happen when they are supposed to, how they are supposed to. Not that we don’t have to do the work, but I simply believe that the world conspires to work for us, if we let it. I’ve just seen too many times how things end up working out, if not how we wanted them to, then the best way they could have. This belief gives me peace of mind when I might otherwise freak out. In any number of ways.

So, as I stand in my office I realize that I was self-sabatoging a little over the past couple weeks. I emailed several forms back to HR that ended up being blank (I swear they weren’t when I sent them…stupid ‘save’ button). I also somehow missed that I needed to get a background check before I started. Minor detail…

Fortunately, my employer has been great with these things. But it did get me thinking. I hear people talk about how it’s too late to pursue their dream. I don’t believe that. I think it’s exactly the right time, when you decide to do it. Maybe it won’t look precisely like you imagined it, but when you’re ready, it will unfold how it’s supposed to. And if you’re not ready, that’s ok, too. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, even if it’s an uncomfortable place. My guess is that there’s probably a lesson you need to learn before you move on. And just a side note, even if that lesson involves another person in some way, it’s not about them. At all. It’s all about what’s going on inside of you.

So now what do I do about my little self-sabatoge??? Well, at least now I’m aware of it, that’s always the first step. For a while I’ll need to be more aware of what I’m doing to make sure I have all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed. And remember not to be complacent in what I do. For me, that’s when I get lazy. And, boy, can I get lazy.

I guess my question for you is, “Do you have a dream and are you following it?” If not, that’s ok, but are you at least doing something that you love? It doesn’t matter what it is, work, family, yoga, baking, being a parent, a lover, an artist, musician, athlete, or even taking time to knit or read a good book. Just pick something you love and do it. Whether or not you’re doing something you love (but especially if you’re not), remember to be kind to yourself. I don’t think many people have ever beat themselves into doing something. Instead, I believe these things come from loving ourselves. Learn to be kind to yourself, let yourself make mistakes, take care of yourself, be a little selfish (or self-ful, as the case may be). And when you’ve learned to love yourself (and do what you love), go share that love with others.

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Rage, Pain, and Sadness….Or, A Touch of Grey

Today, I signed the documents that will finalize my divorce and custody agreement for my son. It’s been a rough few months, and I realize now what’s been bothering me all this time. Why I’ve retreated a little from life…why I haven’t blogged in so long…or written anything…at all. It’s been tough to get out of bed, pay my bills, keep in touch with friends, maintain a healthy eating schedule. Pretty much anything that I “should” be doing. And then it all comes crashing down at once what is bothering me.

I’m a processor. It’s how I deal with life. Sometimes it’s fairly slow, as it was this time, and sometimes it’s, well, less slow. Oh, well. It’s who I’m am. I usually figure out what’s bothering me within two days. I’m ok with that. Or at least I’ve come to accept that is how I work.

So I signed the paperwork and talked with my lawyer for a bit. He kept assuring me about what I was signing and said things like, “this is really the best deal you could have hoped for,” and “this agreement will protect your rights as a father.” It all sounds good, even though I have some misgivings, but I’m really just glad to have everything over. As I walk out of his office, I really want to have a beer. I don’t want to get drunk, I generally don’t feel that urge anymore, but just one beer to take the edge off. The problem is that it’s 10 AM and any place I’d want to go is closed. I’m also not going to go home and drink, and I’m too impatient to sit around and wait for some place to open up. See, I’ve become very aware of when, and why, I drink. Sometime I get these urges to go against what I think is right, but I also think the universe conspires to help us, if we pay attention. I did. Instead of going and having a beer I decided to go home and meditate, to simply feel what I’m feeling. Feelings aren’t good or bad, they just are, and I want to be in touch with mine as much as possible. I think that’s one way to truly enjoy life and not hide from it.

I start driving home and get about a mile into the 40 minute drive when I have a moment of catharsis. Ok, I started sobbing uncontrollably. And it’s possible it lasted for more than a moment. My lawyer’s words repeat in my head again and again, “best deal” in particular. Best deal? Are you fucking kidding me? On the one hand, I do believe him. I heard the same thing from him, another source, and a mediator. And it tells me how fucked up Illinois is for father’s rights. Best deal? What the fuck? Fuck you! Right now, I have my son every other weekend and then from 6-8 PM one night a week. My lawyer and the mediator both assure me that’s how Illinois does it. But “best deal.” Fuck. 

I do the math. I don’t know why, but I do. If I have my son every other weekend that means I see him for 26 of the 52 weeks, or for a total of 52 days a year. Out of 365. Best deal. Fuck you. Oh wait, I forgot about the mid-week times I have him. Add two hours times 52 weeks, the that’s 104 additional hours, or another 4.33 days…

I fucking hate this state, I hate it’s law makers, I hate that I’m here, I hate the fucking winter cold. I hate that I’ve spent 8 months here, sent out hundreds of resumes, and only had one interview. Now, I want to go get drunk. I want to go fuck my brains out, I want to beat the shit out of someone. Something, anything, not to have to feel this fucking crap. I fucking hate everyone and I fucking hate everything. And right now I especially, especially, hate the fact that somewhere, deep inside me, there is a small, rational part that sees the lesson in all of this. I don’t want to be rational. I want to rage. I want to fuck shit up.

But my drive home isn’t over yet. That small part of me gets louder. The fact that music is playing on the radio starts to register. A Touch of Grey by the Grateful Dead comes on. Music has often soothed my soul, and it does so now. I know that life isn’t bad or good. How much time I have with my son isn’t bad or good. I can be a good father to him with what little time I have. It’s the quality moments that really matter. And right now I see him more than when I lived in California and he was in Illinois. I need to keep things in perspective, because, really, there are a couple ways this can go.

I can keep this anger and resentment, I can hold it tight. In the end, though, who really gets hurt? I’ve heard it said that holding resentment is like taking poison yourself, hoping someone else dies. So, in this scenario, the only people I’m hurting is myself, and then my son. That’s not ok with me. Another option is to accept that this is how it is, for now. It won’t always be like this. My son will grow up, situations will change. He’ll be able to make his own choices. And from what I hear, it will happen fast. Crap, it feels like he was born just the other day. Right now my job is to be the best father to him I can be, to keep myself sane and healthy, to keep him safe, and to be there for him when he needs me. And he will need me.

The song ends. My tears have, mostly, stopped. I don’t like the situation, but I can accept it…and look for ways that I can change it in the future. The key is acceptance. By accepting it, I don’t rage against it. I don’t hold on to it and get depressed, or want to drink or engage in any other myriad of distractions that humans can use to “help” us get through. To me, it’s just one more step to being fully present. And that’s how I choose to live my life.

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Adjust me…Please – A Letter to Yoga Teachers

Over the past 10+ years, I’ve taken a lot of yoga classes from many different teachers, and I’ve noticed teachers have different styles of adjustments.

Some won’t adjust you at all and just cue verbally, while others get a little too handsy. Some have firm, direct adjustments, while others give a light touch to the area they see needs to be corrected. I also know there are reasons both for and against physical adjustments; but, as the title suggests, I am in favor of being adjusted.

Here’s why:

In general, we live in a touch deprived world. This is especially true during a time when face-to-face communication is decreasing and more interaction is virtual. I’m not knocking virtual communication, I think it’s great and use it all the time. But I do think it can diminish physical interaction, which in turn effects us. Aside from this, I also have some personal reasons for wanting to be adjusted in yoga, which I’ll share because I don’t think I’m the only one.

Without going into detail, let’s just say that I carry some “emotional wounds” from my childhood and adolescence. These wounds have created within me a dichotomy where a part of me craves human contact. I love to be touched. I love to hug, get (and give) shoulder rubs and just in general be close to people. It’s one of the ways I feel loved and cared about. And I do want to take a moment to be clear, I’m not talking about sexual touch.

The dichotomy exists in the fact that I am also terrified of being touched. There was a time in my life where the last thing I wanted was for someone to touch me. It didn’t really matter who it was. Whenever I would meet someone who was overly touchy, my first thought was always, “What do you want from me?” This was usually followed by, “Leave me the fuck alone and quit fucking touching me.” This from someone who craves human touch. Like I said, I’ve got wounds.

These wounds of mine have gotten better over time. I’ve done a lot of work with a therapist, but I also realized that yoga was helping me. Specifically the adjustments. I found that receiving a non-sexual touch from someone who wants nothing more than to help me is very freeing. For me, it was the acceptance of that touch, which I didn’t always do.

There was a time that teachers would adjust me and I would scream in my head, “Get your fucking hands off me!” The memory of where I was mentally at that time actually brings tears to my eyes right now. But it’s a good thing. It’s good because I can recognize where I was then and where I’m at now.

Ask Permission to Touch Your Students

And that brings me to a point I want to make to you teachers. Ask permission to touch your students! I can’t emphasize that enough. I can almost guarantee that you have at least one student that doesn’t like to be touched. For that matter, personally introduce yourself to any students you don’t know. In my opinion it’s the right thing to do. It sets the tone of the instructor/student relationship and helps new students feel welcome and more at ease. This helps create a safe space for the student. You can then take that opportunity to ask if they are willing to be adjusted. Make adjustments an offer. Something they can refuse if they are not comfortable, for whatever reason.

Be Aware

Also be aware of what types of adjustments you give and to whom. Some adjustments can put your hands in pretty intimate places (you know which ones I’m talking about), and some can just feel more intimate than others. I remember the first time a teacher adjusted my Down Dog by laying on me, her front to my back. It was the first time I’d taken her class and I’d never had this done to me before. I’d never even seen it before. Now, I think it was a great adjustment. Both for the pose and at that point, I’d done enough healing that I wasn’t going to complain when an attractive woman pressed herself against me. So I’ll admit it, I enjoyed it. But it did throw me off mentally. And after it ended I spent the next few minutes of class looking around thinking, “What the hell was that? Is she adjusting other people like that? She adjusted that guy differently, what does it mean?”

In the end, save the more intimate adjustments for the students that you have known longer. Even then, communicate with them to make sure they are OK with what you are going to do.

I also ask that you try not to forget your students that are more advanced and have been around. I know I’ve been doing yoga for a while, that I’m good at listening to cues and self-adjusting; but, I’m not perfect. And, oh boy, can I be lazy.

I realized about a year ago that my hands are a little too far apart during Down Dog. Quite frankly, I was just too stubborn to change it myself. It seemed like too much work (did I mention I can be lazy?). And until recently, not one teacher that I’ve had has noticed, or if they did they never pointed it out. The fact is, I know I need someone to guide me at times, to notice when I’m not doing my best. Like a simple touch on my knee to remind me to keep that micro bend. This brings my awareness to an area that needs correction, helps me grow and makes me a better yogi.

I believe yoga has a great many healing benefits. Over time, I realized the gentle touch I received during yoga was one of the things that kept me coming back time after time. Allowing myself to receive a caring touch, from someone who clearly wanted nothing more from me, helped me along in the healing of my emotional wounds. As stated earlier, I know there are arguments for and against physical adjustments. But I believe that as long as you know how to safely adjust someone, explain what you are doing and why, and be respectful of the individual boundaries of your students, that your students will enjoy and benefit from being adjusted. And should you see me in class, feel free to adjust me.

– See more at: http://yoganonymous.com/adjust-please-letter-yoga-teachers/#sthash.Il266opl.dpuf

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Why Revel Living

I’ve been thinking about blogging for a long time now, but it looks like I’m finally getting the guts to do it. There is so much that I could write about, but what do I really know? The first thing that pops into my mind is my depression. Over my lifetime I’ve seen a bunch of therapist, tried different drugs and herbal remedies, but they only seemed to work for the short term, if at all. The key for me was acceptance. To accept that sometimes I’ll be sad. It’s OK.

But the other side of that is knowing that I don’t have to stay there. There are things that I can do that will help me get out of, lessen, minimize, whatever you want to call it, my depression. Some things that have helped me are yoga, meditation, and eating healthy. Well, at least healthier. No more Blizzard a day keeps the doc away attitude (yes, there was a time I went for months eating a Blizzard daily). But also doing things that give me joy, and doing them regularly. Figuring out what I love about life, like yoga, bike riding, hiking…and my puppy.

So, do I want to focus on depression? No. What I really  want to talk about is living with it, and living fully. To understand what makes me tick and turns me on, and hopefully to help others try to figure that out as well. I’ve been blessed to have people in my life that have inspired me, and I want to try to pass that on, in my own way.

Now, why Revel Living? To be honest, I really liked Rebel Living. That speaks to me be cause I tend to be a bit of a rebel in life. If someone says “go left” I go right. If they say “up,” I say “down.” I often don’t mean to, it’s just one of the ways I seem to have been made, and something to note so I can catch it when it pops up in life. But, the first time I mentioned it to someone they mis-heard me and heard revel instead of rebel. And I liked the sound of it even better. So I looked the words up to make sure the message I wanted to convey was in the name. This is what I found.

Revel – enjoy oneself in a lively and noisy way, especially with drinking and dancing.

Living – a particular manner, state, or status of life or the pursuit of a lifestyle of the specified type.

Sooo, to me revel living means “the pursuit of a lifestyle of enjoying oneself in a lively and noisy way…especially with drinking and dancing.” Further translation – find out what you love to do, and DO it. Especially with drinking and dancing. Ha!

So get out there. Climb a mountain. Go for a drive. Pet a puppy, or kitten or bunny or chinchilla. Read a book, write a book. Sit down and talk to a friend over a glass of wine, beer, coffee or kombucha. And if all that sounds like too much, then just step outside, and simply breathe. That small step is a great start.