MM005 Marrying Myself: Head Games

Hello and welcome to “Marrying Myself.” I’m Rosa Linda Román (I go by “Rosa Linda”) and this is my new mixed-media project where I focus on centering my own wisdom first, before considering other people’s input. I mostly do this by digging through old journals, boat logs and other treasures of the bilge (so to speak, since I’m currently quite landlocked) to see what sparks joy as I move into the next chapter of my life. Then, in keeping with the “Marrying Myself” theme, I use the old bridal tradition of including “Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue” to share my latest discoveries, observations and epiphanies in a weekly livestream. I invite you to watch that livestream first and then come back to finish this post. But, before you do, I want to offer a trigger warning. I touch on some heavy topics in this one, including suicide, mental illness and barbaric, life-destroying medical procedures, so if those subjects are too much for you right now, I totally get it, and I invite you to skip this episode.

So, as you saw in the livestream replay, what’s on my mind this week is, my mind. And other people’s minds, too. Specifically, all the ways we use our own thoughts against ourselves, and the ways others use our minds as weapons against us, mostly figuratively, but sometimes as literal weapons to do great harm.

My heart is heavy this week after a young man I love took his own life. While I’m not ready to talk about that publicly, nor about the lifelong effects of mental illness on both those who suffer with it and those who are raised in its shadow, I can’t pretend that these things are not affecting me deeply and coloring how I approach the process of marrying myself this week. I started this project with the idea that I wanted to listen to myself first, but I have had a lot of shame and guilt about this idea of claiming this approach. But, in the wake of this awful, awful tragedy I found myself asking the question, “Where do I use my mind against myself?”

The answer came to me instantly: In the spaces where I attempt to let my authentic self step fully out onto the stage. Right here, on this project that I love, I realized I was using my own mind against myself. I kept trying to be perfect, spending an obscene amount of time worrying about a bunch of nebulous “shoulds.” What should I write? What should I hold back? When should I post to allow for maximum reach? How should I explain it all to friends and strangers on the internet?

Gratefully, the other thing this topsy-turvy week forced me to to do was to hop off the hamster wheel and take a pause. In that pause, in the middle of the grief and disbelief, (thanks to the help of some excellent coaches: Nadia Munro from Sarah Arnold Hall’s “Get it Done” and Kyra Faison-Gardner from “Women at the Edge of the Woods”) I suddenly remembered why I’m actually doing this.

I am doing this for me. To reconnect with the parts of myself that I love.

Yes, I’m sharing the journey along the way, but that’s not supposed to be the primary thing. I’m not supposed to come back from a heart-breaking week at a young man’s funeral and start beating myself up for the posts that didn’t get written and whatever else I haven’t accomplished. But, as one of my other favorite coaches, Serena Hicks always says, “Brains gonna brain.”

A big part of the spirit of this project is to give myself grace and to show up when I’m ready. But also to remember that I am always ready and I am always enough.

I always break the “Something Old” category into two parts: something old and rotten that I’d like to do away with and something old and precious that I hold dear. In light of the heartbreaking events of this past week, there are actually two old and rotten things I’d like to mention.

One, the stigma around mental illness and any of the old systems that stand in the way of full health and healing. I’m not implying that our loved one who took his own life didn’t have support, because I know he had an amazing community of people giving their all to help him. Instead, I’m talking about any of the systems of oppression that make life unbearable and unlivable for so many. Systems that reward greed and prevent good people from finding their way. Programs that are supposed to be helping but which are instead causing harm. I fully believe that the heart-centered work we are all doing now—yes, including marrying ourselves—will help those old rotten systems finally come to their long-overdue end very, very soon.

The second, related, old and rotten thing is that internal struggle that seems to rear its ugly head every time I try to step into my authenticity and power. It is a collection of soul-crushing beliefs designed to put me in my place and make me question what I know I know. They range from thoughts like, “What I have to offer is not good enough,” to “I don’t know what’s good for me,” to “I don’t know my own body better than anyone else.” They are all a subset of the oft-repeated accusation against women that we are too emotional and that perceived problems must all be in our heads. I will get into this more in the “Something New” and “Something Borrowed” sections below, but suffice it to say that these dangerous, antiquated accusations have been used as weapons for ages, particularly against women, and most tragically, often by ourselves against ourselves.

This old journal and all the cringe-worthy entries I wrote in it.

The outside says it’s from 1978, but I would have been seven that year and I didn’t really start keeping journals until my teen years. I probably got this particular journal at a garage sale, crossed out the date on the front and proudly wrote my name (with extra hearts!) on the side.

The date is printed on the top of each page, but my entries are sporadic with some pages spanning years. On May 10th, for example, there are notes from both May 10, 1984 and May 10, 1986. The earliest entry I’ve seen so far was from May 1984 and the last one was from September 1986. I’ve spent hours reading through the journal entries and it has been painfully enlightening, especially in light of the theme of this week: the ways we use our brains against ourselves.

First, the backstory. At the start of the journal, I was twelve and a half. My family had just moved from Illinois to Florida after my dad was transferred with Eastern Airlines. I hadn’t even gotten my period yet. I also hadn’t yet met Barbie, the friend who would help transform me from a painfully shy wallflower to the outgoing young woman who would go on to a career in broadcasting.

By the end of the journal I was fifteen. Over the course of the two critically formative years that this journal spans, I went from a shy girl who was worried her breasts and butt would never grow (flashbacks of Judy Blume’s book “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret”), to a seemingly outgoing teen who snuck around, lied to my parents and made-out with boys.

Now, reading about all the pining after boys (I mean, so many boys…) and obsessing over my popularity, makes me cringe. I was about ten months younger than my son is now. Throughout this “Marrying Myself” project, I can’t help but compare what I wrote then to my own kids’ experiences at these ages. Of course, I marvel at all the external differences between modern teenagers and the life I described back then. We did not have cell phones and our parents didn’t really know where we were half the time. In this journal, I wrote frequently about walking or biking to the park and the pool to play with friends (and eventually, sneak around with boys!), which is an experience my sailing and rurally-raised kids didn’t have.

But the biggest difference I’ve noticed has to do with my self-perception. With a few notable exceptions during Covid times, my kids have pretty much always moved through the world with confidence. They go after what they want and tend to focus on the things they love and the cool things they’re doing in the world. As I read over my old journals, I realize all of my self-worth was based on other people’s opinions. I was obsessed with which boy thought I was pretty, how popular I was (or wasn’t!) and whether or not I had a “good rep” (reputation).

In hindsight, I understand why I felt this way. In Illinois, my siblings and I had been relentlessly bullied. Once we moved to Miami I made the conscious decision to come out of my shell and create a new, better version of myself. The problem was that while I did start to make friends and develop a social life, those early years of feeling like a pariah had already affected me deeply. Plus, there was a lot going on at home. Outwardly, I seemed more confident, trying out for the cheerleading team and going to clubs and parties every weekend, but inwardly, I was filled with so much self-doubt and insecurity that it was almost paralyzing. When boys started to notice me, I loved the attention. But as I read these pages, I can’t help but remember what I didn’t have the courage to write. Always worried that someone else would read my innermost thoughts, I edited myself severely, even in my private journals. But, of course, I know what was really going on in my world at the time and the massive weights I carried.

So often, while I am reading these journals and the confessionals contained within, I want to return them to the storage bin that they’ve been hiding in for decades, never again to see the light of day. But I am marrying myself now and that means I want to choose love instead of shame. Even my most immature, catty commentaries, and descriptions of my embarrassing behaviors offer glimpses into the seeds that grew into the woman I am today. I could not be me, if I hadn’t first been her. Which is why this journal is this week’s “Something Old & Precious” treasure which I choose to enjoy with a ton of compassion for my younger self. The pain from that angsty era became the fuel that led me to the woman I would become and I am grateful for this physical, visceral reminder of the journey that led me here.

Two days before our family got the devastating news about the suicide, I had spent the whole day in the hospital, because of a pain in my abdomen.

Spoiler alert, I’m fine.

But at the time it was really stressful, and so I did what I usually do when I need to process things, I wrote. Sharing that blog post feels self-centered and indulgent now in light of the tragedy, but of course that idea comes from the very systems I mentioned in the old and rotten section above. The idea that pain is a competition and that we should ignore whatever we’re going through because there is so much more significant pain in the world only leads to so much unnecessary suffering.

So the something new this week is the blog post I wrote about my hospital experience. I post it to remind myself and anyone else that needs to hear this that you can and must trust yourself, that it takes courage to get help, and that you are never truly alone.

So, after all of those tests and all of my self work, what was the problem?

Well, I’m happy to report that I’m fine. The pain is gone now and the doctor thinks it was likely an ovarian cyst that ruptured. (I know, ewww! I am the opposite of medically inclined, so just writing that grosses me out and I apologize if it did the same to you.) I still feel a bit silly about the whole thing since there wasn’t a clear diagnosis, but I’m working on simply celebrating the fact that I am healthy and continuing this process of marrying myself… including listening to my body and having my own back.

As I mentioned in the “Old and Rotten” section above, the thing that I’m borrowing this week comes from the idea that things are “all in our heads.”

One of my personal mantras for the past year or so is that “I trust myself completely,” and this is mostly always true. Except when I am working on a project like “Marrying Myself.” Then I start to doubt myself in ridiculous ways. The above story about the pain in my abdomen is one example of that. But there are lots of other ways this tendency shows up in the world, too. It can be anything from that loud list of “shoulds” in our heads telling us to shrink, hush and play small, or to hustle endlessly instead of allowing ourselves to slow down and grieve. In extreme cases it leads to heinous acts committed against people (mostly women) by other people (mostly men) who claim to know better for them than they know for themselves.

Two Substack posts come to mind which highlight this. I share both of them in the companion video mentioned above (which you can watch here). But I also want to share the links here so that you can read these excellent articles for yourself.

The first one, by “Bitchy History,” is in response to a man’s anti-feminist comments to one of her Substack posts. Basically the commenter, named Jared, talks about his ex-wife in a way that publicly undercuts her, saying that he knows her better than she knows herself. I read the relevant section in the livestream, but I highly recommend you do yourself a favor and read the whole article for yourself. Yes, it will leave you bristling, but it is an excellent reminder of the large and small ways that this old and rotten pattern of doubting ourselves is perpetuated.

The other article is about abusive, insecure men and the buses they throw women under. It relates because men like this have spent lifetimes convincing us that they know better and using their power to control, manipulate and subjugate women. The result, so often is that we have learned to doubt ourselves.

The article was written by Renee Stonebraker. I should warn you, it starts with the f-word and is very long. But it is also super thought-provoking, brilliant and well worth the read.

I think you’ll agree that the level of gaslighting, tormenting and manipulation that Stonebraker writes about is enough to curdle your blood.

Which, sadly, leads perfectly into the final section…

Something Blue:

I recently inherited this blue Kokopelli necklace from my great-aunt, but in a heart-breaking, roundabout way.

I never had the chance to know my grandmother’s sister, even though she only died in recent years. I only know fragments of her story: She was in the military and as a young woman was reportedly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. That’s when “medical professionals” (I use the term loosely here) gave her a lobotomy, leaving her in a catatonic state for the rest of her life. I don’t know how long she lived, as her military records were sealed and under lock and key, but my understanding is that she lived that way, as a ward of the state, for decades.1

A few years ago, my aunt (her niece) gave me this Kokopelli necklace which had been handed down to her upon my great-aunt’s passing. It breaks my heart because I don’t know the story behind the piece and how she came to have this Native jewelry in her collection. Most of my family on that side spent their lives in the Midwest, but here she was in the military when few women were. Had her travels taken her on some grand Southwestern adventure? I fear I will never know. Still, the piece feels especially meaningful to me. One, because I live in New Mexico, where we see Kokopelli everywhere, reminding us of its diverse Native roots.2 Also, when I launched my video podcast, New Mexicast, back in 2007, my very talented friend, Craig Stickler made this wonderful logo for it.

For almost twenty years Kokopelli has made his appearance in my brand’s graphics, even hopping in a boat when our family left the mountains for the liveaboard life and I rebranded as the “New Mexi-Castaways” podcast.

With little kids at the time it felt like Kokopelli fit the playful nature of the life and business I was trying to grow. Now, as I proudly wear my great-aunt’s Kokopelli necklace, it has taken on a much deeper meaning for me, serving as a reminder of the precious ones who have had their voices stolen and reminding me of how important it is to use my own gifts, skills and privileges to do my part to usher in a new era of health and well-being for all. And, this week especially, it reminds me of the precious ones who were taken too soon. May their memories always be for blessings.

Well, there you have it, this week’s “Marrying Myself” with a heavier topic to match my heavy heart.

I would love to hear what you think about this project in general, or about the topics I touched on here. Does anything in here inspire you to try to rekindle something precious from your past? What could you do this week to support the idea of marrying yourself? Or, would you simply like to use the space to reflect on someone you love who is struggling or has struggled with mental illness and the profound impact that has had on you and your beloveds?

Whatever you would like to share, I am here to receive it. I love you, I see you and I am grateful you are here.

If you enjoyed this “Marrying Myself” project, please subscribe to follow this journey.

**Author’s Note: A friendly reminder that this article/video is the intellectual property of Rosa Linda Román. As always, I happily give permission to share quotes and snippets, but request that you only do so with a link back to the original article/video. My work may not be copied and pasted without proper attribution and a link back to this article. Join me in fighting systems of oppression by giving credit where credit is due. Writing is my livelihood and I thank you for your ethical support of creators like me. The best way to do that is by subscribing and sharing my work. You can do that easily by clicking this button:

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