Hi it's nice to meet you...

Welcome to my blog.

My name is Meredith - you can call me that; Mer, Merri, Mer-Dawg; but as my mom would say - "don't call me late for dinner."

I was born in a blizzard in Northern Idaho to a Man of the Woods and a Woman of the Wind. When I was very little, we moved to Western Oregon, where I fell in love with the taste of rain and the over-abundance of moss. I spent my time sprinting through the woods, picking blackberries at the cemetery in my neighborhood, splashing in the pool, mud wrestling, and eating far too many donuts.

When I was 15, we moved to Boise, Idaho so my dad could travel less, and so we could be with the rest of our funny family. I had grown up visiting - mostly in the summer - and demanding a daily pass for unlimited rides on the Hydro-Tube at the Natatorium. I knew the smell of Idaho better than the back of my hand, and was familiar with the Foothills before I could understand traffic patterns. But moving, leaving everything I knew as far as friends, my teams, my little spots of solitude; all of that was hard. I took it out on my parents in the form of silence and outbursts. I was a teenager.

After about a year and a half there, I began to settle in. I made friends, good friends. I had the greatest teachers, who are now also good friends. I painted in my bedroom, far too late into the night. I met a boy, I fell in love. I was Homecoming Royalty. I realized that Idaho was home.

With my love and my bags packed, we migrated back to the town of my birth to go to College. Very quickly, love fell apart - and I've been officially a little bit different ever since. So I read a lot of books, drank enough to laugh, and lolly-gagged in the Lake as much as a working college girl can.

But I needed to leave. I was a pile of consolidated, but shattered glass - and I needed to go and find the glue to put my pieces back in place. By sophomore year, I ended up in Sarasota, Florida at a tiny school where GPA's are not part of the curriculum, and Psychedelic Scavenger Hunts, shouting matches, and sandy toes are the norm. I learned how to be the differentness I had always been - but I hadn't gone far enough to rebuild myself. After another summer of Sunshine on the Lake I'd been born from - I hopped on a plane (that did in fact stop in LAX, though I lacked a dream or cardigan... Sorry, Miley) and ended up in San Jose, Costa Rica - a city of more than 1 million people, surrounded by jungle and a bumping Latin Beat. Usually one semester abroad is sufficient in changing a life - but I could still feel a gnawing numbness in my soul so I did it again.

After what felt like a minute with family in Boise, I embarked on the journey that I think was my (1st) critical shift in life. A pause in Seattle, a pause in Reykjavik, a longer pause in Zurich, and one in Dubai; finally after 58 hours on planes and probably in a delirium-driven parallel Universe - I was getting my entry stamp in Cape Town, South Africa.

"Holy shit." you might be thinking. At least I was. I still do. I am fairly ridiculous.

But I had always felt the need to go there. And the "Why?" of that is a question I have been trying to answer for a very long time - I will let you know if I find out.

Over the course of my extended semester in Zed-Ayyyy I began to change from the version of myself who felt like life was something inflicted upon me, into a version that is amazed and awash with gratitude for everything except Traffic and being On-Hold. I learned how to dance to the music, instead of to the crowd. I went to Afrikaburn, and kicked up dust to the blaring beat of 'The Dog Days Are Over' by Florence & the Machine. I honestly think I transcended. And I began making art again; in the bus, during Lectures, at the coffee shop, at my favorite Bar in the world - Bohemia, and in front of people. If I had just a pen and some paper, I could disappear for hours, while surrounded by a continuously changing crowd. I found silence.

When it came time to leave - I was afraid I would leave the sense of wonder behind, especially given the angry, uninspired America I was coming back to. So it became my mission to remain perpetually astounded.

Though the summer had its downs in the form of a second round of the same heartbreak I had run from (that I would still try over and over), it had ups on the wake of the boat - carving turns to the tempo of whatever music the designated DJ put on; and fireworks shows, and a collection of people I had always come back to since College began.

With one year left at my funny little Florida School on the horizon, I packed my Subaru and drove again back across the country. I paid attention this time, to the changing topography; waking in time for the sunrise - and carrying on past the last light of the dusk. I peed in 21 states. Upon arriving back at school - I could tell I had grown differently than most of my peers, and I could tell that school really was not my friend. I struggled through a 3rd attempt at Introductory Economics, and failed again. In a moment on the verge of dropping-out, I called my Dad. He told me I should think about it. And with encouragement from my Mom, he told me to go to therapy. I still laugh every time I say that. "My parents told me to go to therapy..." because they were listening to me!

And I listened to them too - even though I had a pretty disappointing time in therapy on the last 3 attempts. I had just always known what they would ask - so I would know exactly how to answer.

This time though, I was challenged. And listened to with the goal of actually "figuring everything out." After exactly 2 sessions - we had reached the critical shift of my cognition (2 shifts in one year? Sick). I didn't just have Anxiety and Panic Disorder, or a perpetually broken heart, or an incurable inability to do math... I have ADHD!

When I think of the moment I was told about my Why - I always imagine a fireworks show with a party of people toasting champagne and patting each other on the back, and kissing their friends faces, and the happiness of New Year's Eve. It was like a resolution that could actually be acted on. And so I did.

That was about 4 months ago. And in that time, I've made 22 pieces of art, written the story of my life in terms of all the new reasons for understanding it - and come to know how to love myself, a lot. I've learned how to ask for help, and how to give kindness and compassion like I'm made of the stuff - because I am. I go to therapy regularly, run daily, take medication, make checklists, and yes... I still am struggling through round 4 of Introductory Economics. But the fear and anguish for being human is nearly absent. Yes that can be attributed to not reading or listening to or watching the News, and focusing on the colors and sounds that surround me - or dancing in the moonlight with everybody I think is groovy too - but at this point, I think that is just alright.

It took nearly 22 years to find the way to feel not even okay but Good. And I plan to swim in it as often as I can.

My life now; with finishing my Undergraduate Thesis, putting my creations into a public realm, spending a lot of time alone, giggling with my grandparents every evening in their home, and putting the stream of consciousness in my head first - is pretty damn good.

So, it's nice to meet you - I'm Meredith, and I hope you find a little place for yourself within my journey.

If you want to reach out, tell me your story, ask about mine - or want me to make one up - shoot me an email. I can't promise I will get to it in a timely manor - but I like stories. And I like the idea of telling them - so I'm happy to listen, read, wonder, and learn.

I'll keep you updated, and I'll see you in the raindrops,

Xx,

Mer

#MyStory #CriticalShift #Introduction #PNW #SouthAfrica #ADHD #MentalHealth