‘Moonbeams & Monkey Pants’, finding freedom after PTSD
My new blog name, ‘Moonbeams & Monkey Pants—finding freedom after PTSD’, doesn’t it just put a smile on your face? I’m in full circus scamper mode just reading the name! My baby has a name! This big debut just happened to coincide with the 40th anniversary of ‘Moonbeam’, a song I wrote in Ojai, CA during the spring of my life in 1977. I realized this profound “coincident” after I named my new blog. I love it when something like this happens; sweet, synchronicities to remind us we are right on time, listening to our hearts tell us which way to go with trust infused, blind faith that we are rendezvousing with the most benevolent outcome possible for our souls.
Moonbeam practically wrote itself on one such serendipitous evening when my roommate and best friend, Carol, picked up her guitar and started playing the simple melody of what was to become one of my most loved and requested songs to perform. That’s Carol in the picture above with me. It was also my favorite to sing. Read how this song reminded me to keep dancing on a moonbeam in the story below after this past week when I danced with a suave, deceptive character named depression. After such a delicious moment and experience of launching my website–yes, my loves, after all that goodness, I danced with that ass again.
Here’s how I recovered instead of allowing a ‘normal occurrence’ turn into a downward, emotional spiral.
OK, I admit I hit a patch of what I call the baby blues, much like Postpartum, a couple of days after I launched Your Soul Picnic. However, I know this about myself so I prepared myself for it because these dips often occur after arrive-at-the-mountain-peak-moments in our lives. This can happen to ANYONE–not just people with anxiety, depression or PTSD after a huge spike of emotions such as I experienced writing, preparing and launching my website.
I think it’s important to note that one can get depressed after a truly happy, fricking moment so you’re not a loser because this happens. It’s normal! Think about all the brides who pour themselves into creating a faerie tale experience she, her groom and guests will never forget only to crash a few weeks after the honeymoon is over with the blues. Yep, that kind of pop my balloon blues happens to everyone, not just you.
Whenever our pendulum swings from one side to the other, we will feel the altitude shift. I reminded myself of this very fact, as I sat in the moment to hit the publish button to let the world see, finally, the picnic basket bursting out of my soul for Your Soul Picnic. I’m usually the one who is twitching inside her monkey pants who can’t wait to give gifts or open gifts. Yet, I sat for awhile loins shaking, belly all aflutter and head swimming in fireworks. I savored the moment, quivering with joy. I cried, too. Every mama cries when she see her newborn baby for the first time.
Two days after I excitedly announced my new website and gathering in October, I could feel myself plummeting into the “does anybody really care and no one’s interested in what you’ve got to say” crappola that happens when we put ourselves out here for the world to see our entire wardrobe of monkey pants in living color. My choice was to find like-minded people to help me see through the fog bank encasing my spirits. I actively sought out others whose monkey pants were fired up with pockets full of wisdom and fierce love for what they do in a private facebook group for others like myself living their wildest dreams to help others and our planet. I rested. I allowed myself to feel the emptiness in my belly. I filled my picnic basket with reminders of this will soon pass. And it did. It always does. Please remember this.
On the morning of day 3 of the blahs, I showered, put on my favorite shirt and a bracelet Superman bought me on our honeymoon I call my Wonder Woman cuff. Superman and I headed to town to run errands and have breakfast at my favorite place. One of the beautiful souls that work at the restaurant came up to me, face aglow and gushing, yes gushing, over my new website! She told me how she loved the way I write and my mentions of moonbeams and monkey pants, and well… in just one heartbeat I was glowing, too. Also, a friend who’s dealing with the onset of an autoimmune dis-ease texted me to tell me just reading the introductory page here boosted her endorphins and elevated her spirit!
Then, when I thought it just couldn’t get any better, our server, the same woman who greeted us, came over to tell Superman and me that a person had paid it forward and bought our breakfast with a request that we, in turn, pay it forward to someone else. Holy bacon and eggs! I leaked the glittery stuff out of my eyeballs for the rest of the day. I felt so immensely loved for showing up to do this thang I dreamt about rocking like a champ for the last nine years.
All this to say, had I not prepared myself for this dip, I may have missed breakfast, the joy of knowing I’d lifted 2 people up and a seed that was planted for the new name for my blog, ‘Moonbeams & Monkey Pants—finding freedom after PTSD‘. (thank you, Kat)
In the past, a dip like this would have sent me to bed, pushed me into despair and yanked my monkey pants right off of my ass. I’d have listened to the lying voices tell me “just stay in bed, girl”. So next time you get brave enough to leave your house or talk to someone on the phone (see, I get you) remember to brace yourself for a dip somewhere in the happy cloud afterward!
Be gentle with yourself. Have a good cry and say thank you for having an outlet to release grief, pain or disappointment such as crying. Then do something kind for yourself such as listen to my 40-year-old song Moonbeam. (nice segue, huh?) That’s Carol (her nickname is Carol Merrill) and me in our band, ‘Silver Rose’. Here we are rocking our Monkey Pants. This is how joy looks!
So without further ado, here’s my song Moonbeam. This version was performed by my duo, Eastwinds, featuring Michael Tsang, and myself. Other than an old solo version of me singing Moonbeam on a teeny 70’s style cassette recorder, this is my only recording of this song. It’s a treasure to me knowing thousands of people have listened to and loved this song through the years. I’m adding it to the picnic basket in Armchair Adventures–rewire your PTSD brain for your listening enjoyment anytime you feel cemented to the past. Soar above stress with me as I sing to you, dear one. Thank you for being here with me. 40 years… Wow. Just wow!