For 17 years doctors gave me legitimately prescribed psychiatric drugs trying to “fix” me. There was nothing wrong with me except trauma masquerading as depression. When I quit the drugs I found the courage to face demons I thought would kill me. I thought I was broken but it turns out I was just deeply wounded. Love is patching me up now.
I already felt connected with you by saying it's tough for you to read novels, as I thought there was something wrong with me that I struggle reading them, too.
Though, I devoured and loved Happiness Falls by Angie Kim, a guest previously.
Maybe it's that I need to feel connected to the story of the author in some way. When a novel feels too "artificious" or just too fictional, when it doesn't come from the heart and will of the author, I don't wanna read it. You just gifted me a prompt to look for in novels, thank you.
And regarding pain and creativity, I use your quote about both everywhere. Pain as something not to fight with or something to vanquish but something to give space to. There may be so much there. Instead of looking outside, look within. Your pain, on the other side of the coin, may also contain beauty. We just need to cross the mirror with the lens of creativity.
It is funny when I get to the "comment" box and see the first word I thought to type, in the previous comment! "Wow" I don't think I can formulate everything I could say, it takes me a long time to ponder before replying. So much that I haven't yet made a comment on the last email that came from you, Susan! I've been told my whole life to "get to the point" so I am hesitant to just blurt out, but I am a work in progress 😉....it's ongoing. "Get to the point" I think made me smaller, quieter, put in the junk drawer, in my own dark corner to figure out how to cope. People pleasing, doing enough, making less of me to help others be more or less stressed.
One can only do that for so long before the universe says "your turn to take care of YOU" I know I have mentioned a time or two before about the loss of my son 20 years ago in Iraq, and I don't want to be always going back to repeating that for fear that I am signaling to all that I am "stuck".
It has been my turning point, however, my different perspective of myself, my life, "who am I?" moment, what is important? how do I decide to spend what energy I can bolster.
I too, feel I have something to "say", to help others on their grief path, and honor my son at the same time. The 20 years have been full of my observations, data, and narrowing of my focus. I don't "know it all", yet I can share my experience. It is intimidating, and Susan, your shares, prompts, material , and comments section help SO much! I have already found my "purpose place" in helping conversation around grief for military survivors, yet because of that, can't always get to my "nutrition" here in The Quiet Life! I intend to keep coming back, and just wanted to add my notice of goosebumps to this conversation!
I was winging it with this post 😉 and hope I've made it enough "to the point"! Everyone have a very blessed day....I will be looking forward to the book, thank you. ❤
I hope you write something in the future! It's not being stuck if you want to talk about your son, the love, how beautiful and great he was. You can honor his life. You're turning that pain into creativity. Maybe that process is your own unfolding and blossoming.
And by not getting to the point, it's all part of wandering. Sometimes to find the point, you have to lose it sometimes :) So keep being curious and not getting to the point. It's much more courageous than trying always to be right.
Thank you Antonio, for the very kind comment. Yes, there has been a LOT of wandering, and realizing that it is OK to be me. In fact, there is only ONE me! I'm still a bit timid about being public with comments, yet, this space is full of people I can relate to in their sharing. I know I am more comfortable about belonging as opposed to trying to "fit in".
I treasure every bit of my son's life and always will. His name is Chase 😎❤Bless you!
Wow, can I relate to this! I understand the fear of sharing your perspectives for all to see, but I have been doing it anyway because it is so cathartic. A therapist said I was courageous for doing so. Another person commented on one of my Facebook posts that I was brave. This is what I posted on Facebook Monday morning with the goal of clearing my mind and it worked: Sometimes, I feel as if I am drowning. I have been flooded with one event after another and am ravaged by distractions. I had a complaint about something and an email asking if I am attending an event I didn’t even know about.
For my work, it is crucial that I have a clear mind, so I can get in flow and eliminate any distractions.
This morning, I found out there is storm damage I need to photograph yet I need to finish all the stuff I have already started.
Then there is my personal life. I am undergoing a shift in beliefs and perspectives. Parts of me that represent my true self that I often tried to suppress are forcing their way to the surface in a way that is too powerful to stop. This is much deeper than changes within me, it’s spiritual and commonly called “The Dark Night of the Soul.” Yes, I am a very spiritual and introspective person and sometimes my perspectives feel as lonely as the places I photograph.
There is a part of me in many of these photos that reveals a longing for deeper connections and meaning. I know I should not let personal distractions spill over into work, but when so much of my work involves my mind, it can be hard to turn things off.
So, yes, it can feel as if I am drowning and there is no one who understands or is coming to rescue me, so I shall face it alone as I have done so many times in the past.
This venting is for my benefit alone and I don’t want sympathy. Expressing myself in words or photographs is more than just a hobby or profession. It is self-care. Anyway, back to work and hopefully, this has cleared my mind.
Matt, I really feel this is a safe place to share. This will probably be wonderful for your self care. It seems that what you do pokes at what you feel in regards to what you see. Sharing that may be what you are supposed to do! For yourself, and others. Calling all of the stimula a drowning experience is really interesting, and a powerful way to describe it. So much of today is shocking or triggering. You are brave and courageous to be involved, and need your self care along the way. Thank you for sharing. Peace
I would love to see your pictures. By what you just said, I want to see them as I wouldn't expect art to be otherwise. Pictures are your own lens into the world. I'm sure you're doing great, maybe don't be so hard on yourself. Also spilling may be part of the human experience, we integrate and that also means something may spill into the pic, and why not, make it more beautiful and unique.
Deeply thought provoking and a bit triggering. I can relate. What a brave woman sharing her story. No one suppressed "the real me" with medication, I did that myself. It triggers so many questions. I'm often left wondering, why did I do that, suppress "real me"? Do I need to know the why, and if I do find the answer, will that remove the cage? Questions. Questions.
Books have always been a lifeline to me since I was a kid. Someone else’s painful experience transferred to the page becomes another’s balm. While going through a period of intense challenge not too far back, I found myself drawn to writing poetry and sketching on my iPad. It would calm my spirit and sooth my soul.
As things got lighter over time, I decided to put my poems and illustrations into a book - I felt a strong need to make something good come out of that dark period. I couldn’t see the gift in it so I created it :) So, yes, I very much resonate with the need to create artful meaning out of misery. It’s a powerful way to keep hope alive, and give purpose to the pain.
Thank you Susan for yet another deep introspection. Allison is brave to tell her story. Reading your exchange has me amazed at the timing of just having come across a book called The Unshaming Way by
David Bedrick, founder of the Santa Fe Institute for Shame-based Studies. Can’t wait to dip into it! The more we can do away with all the internalized gunk the more we can be free to be who we truly are. Many blessings!
That passage from the book gave me goosebumps. This hit home and resonated strongly. Although I haven't gone through any medical trauma, I can relate to the feeling of needing to hide a part of yourself due to shame and fear of what others will think.
I always find it so interesting that society always thinks that we should be perfect and all should be sanguine. However, as humans, we each have a lot of depth that isn't often seen and expressed. But when someone taps into that depth with great courage -- thank you Allison for your bravery in sharing this -- humanity seems to sometimes breathe a collective sigh of relief in seeing that other side and knowing that we're all a bit messy, no matter how perfect we may seem.
Thank you Susan for sharing this and again, thank you Allison for sharing this story.
This post has really moved me. Because it resonated so deeply. This is the reason I love reading (and would like to write one day if I find the courage). For those moments when I deeply feel "I'm not alone". And somehow my soul is healed a little. Thank you for sharing, Susan. It feels like a book I would definitely love to read.
Between lines there is a real desire of Allison Sweet grant to help not only herself but also people. So the person who has a driven will to offer love to other people that capturing his/her pure inner and capacity to get rid of pains or probably to turn into creativity.
Yes - I’ve heard a few people say ‘writing isn’t therapy', and I know what they really mean, but art is mostly about trying to make sense of ourselves and of other people.
Writing should be something that is of any meaning to you. No need to put a tag into it.
That said, if writing is therapy to you, great. You're already using creativity to look pain into the eye and create something better (and beautiful!). :)
Susan, thank you so much for highlighting I Am the Cage in The Quiet Life, and for welcoming a conversation about pain, a topic so often avoided or brushed under the rug. I love the idea of using whatever it is that causes you pain as a catalyst for creativity, and it really captures the impetus of I Am the Cage to a tee. The process of writing this book has indeed been bittersweet, and has taught me more than anything else that sometimes the most beautiful things can come from our most trying moments.
I'm putting your book into the Wish List, Allison! Having Susan recommend it is for sure a way to say "This book is great!". Appreciate your courage for putting your story out there.
Allison, I can’t wait to read your book. I know after I read it I will feel a kinship. I am going to start working on telling my own story. Any thoughts or advice you can give me would be greatly appreciated. My comment is listed under Deborah. Just the excerpt was tremendously moving.
I think time itself heals wounds a bit. Or maybe it's just that as we get older we simply don't feel anything--any experience or any memory--as intensely as we did when our nervous systems were less, um, "aged".
Three decades after some difficult experiences inflicted by certain individual(s) related to a large group accountability training (LGAT) in the "human potential movement" of yesteryear, I thought I'd write a short story to myself, expressing my experience and imagining successfully dealing with the memories and trauma. The writing definitely stirred the memories, but it didn't relieve the trauma.
But the aging thing seems to be working--slowly, over time. So, my strategy is to continue aging! ;-)
Yes... and telling the story as I did in my memoir removed the power of shame that never should have belonged to me in the first place. But I was a child, and the only one who didn't know I was the innocent party. Sharing my truth through writing has been the healing medicine, with only positive side-effects, both for me and many of my readers.
Yes...and I realized it today, in fact. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I was practicing music today and had a mini cry-sesh in the middle of it.
When I was little, my parents moved across the country, far away from my extended family. Shortly after my parents converted to evangelical christianity, which further distanced them from their relatives. The cycle continued and as an adult I deconverted and distanced myself from my parents (which further distanced me from any relatives).
Since my Dad's passing last year, I've been getting to know my aunt Camille who is a fascinating person. I understand now why my parents didn't want me to have a relationship with her! She's a feminist trailblazer, force of nature and talented artist. She's one-of-kind, just herself with no filters: here's a 75 year old, stylish widow dating a 50-something guy and she's telling me about getting her ass waxed (though she put it in more crude terms)...I nearly died laughing so hard!!!!
As we've been getting to know each other, I've been hearing all the family history on my Dad's side—as he rarely ever spoke about his past—and learning family personalities, dynamics, health conditions I should be aware of and secrets that help me understand my parents and our upbringing a bit more. This reunion has been a source of joy and connection but also a very painful reminder that I never got to really know my grandparents, aunts/uncles who have passed. I feel that I was robbed of family elders who would have understood me and nutured my creativity. My grandmother in particular LOVED music so much. But I wrote a new song today after my mini-breakdown - a song of self-healing and I know I'll be including it on my next album.
Thank you for this post...it feels good to share this today. Oh and the book sounds *amazing*.
Hope you can write something about your aunt Camille! She sounds amazing, and despite you're a musician I hope you can write about it, at least for yourself. Your way of talking about it really picked my interest!
The piece I hid -- I even hid from myself. When I was in Group Therapy (in my 20s and 30s) and would be "called" on something I had said or done (probably deserved, though that wasn't how it felt at the moment) -- I would then go home -- anxious and forlorn -- and tell myself (more than once) "I don't deserve to be with people." It was only years later - reading Brené Brown - that I understood that I was feeling deep Shame. As Brené defined it: "Shame is the intensely painful feeling that we are unworthy of love and belonging." Exactly how I felt. She gave my feeling a Name. The word "shame" wasn't even in my vocabulary. I don't remember -ever- having used it prior to reading it in her books. So I was boxed in by Shame -- and Ashamed of feeling that way. Speechless - and alone - in my suffering. Brené's work was one of my keys out of my dungeon. Another key was a book by Oprah and Bruce Perry ("What Happened To You?"), which helped me re-define my history, releasing my belief that there was something inherently wrong with me -- another secret I kept hidden - also out of Shame. Another leg in a long journey to wholeness. Thank you Susan for giving us all these outlets to share.
I've been feeling a lot of Shame through the years, specially in my marriage, as I feel I haven't been the best husband. But despite that, my wife still believes in me. Loves me. Still wants me to be a father for my girls. So, despite I still feel shame at times, as I'm still work in progress, I feel hope. A hope that rises out of negativity, projecting into the future.
You're not alone. And you certainly are entitled and gave to be hopeful. I for sure believe in you, too.
For 17 years doctors gave me legitimately prescribed psychiatric drugs trying to “fix” me. There was nothing wrong with me except trauma masquerading as depression. When I quit the drugs I found the courage to face demons I thought would kill me. I thought I was broken but it turns out I was just deeply wounded. Love is patching me up now.
I already felt connected with you by saying it's tough for you to read novels, as I thought there was something wrong with me that I struggle reading them, too.
Though, I devoured and loved Happiness Falls by Angie Kim, a guest previously.
Maybe it's that I need to feel connected to the story of the author in some way. When a novel feels too "artificious" or just too fictional, when it doesn't come from the heart and will of the author, I don't wanna read it. You just gifted me a prompt to look for in novels, thank you.
And regarding pain and creativity, I use your quote about both everywhere. Pain as something not to fight with or something to vanquish but something to give space to. There may be so much there. Instead of looking outside, look within. Your pain, on the other side of the coin, may also contain beauty. We just need to cross the mirror with the lens of creativity.
It is funny when I get to the "comment" box and see the first word I thought to type, in the previous comment! "Wow" I don't think I can formulate everything I could say, it takes me a long time to ponder before replying. So much that I haven't yet made a comment on the last email that came from you, Susan! I've been told my whole life to "get to the point" so I am hesitant to just blurt out, but I am a work in progress 😉....it's ongoing. "Get to the point" I think made me smaller, quieter, put in the junk drawer, in my own dark corner to figure out how to cope. People pleasing, doing enough, making less of me to help others be more or less stressed.
One can only do that for so long before the universe says "your turn to take care of YOU" I know I have mentioned a time or two before about the loss of my son 20 years ago in Iraq, and I don't want to be always going back to repeating that for fear that I am signaling to all that I am "stuck".
It has been my turning point, however, my different perspective of myself, my life, "who am I?" moment, what is important? how do I decide to spend what energy I can bolster.
I too, feel I have something to "say", to help others on their grief path, and honor my son at the same time. The 20 years have been full of my observations, data, and narrowing of my focus. I don't "know it all", yet I can share my experience. It is intimidating, and Susan, your shares, prompts, material , and comments section help SO much! I have already found my "purpose place" in helping conversation around grief for military survivors, yet because of that, can't always get to my "nutrition" here in The Quiet Life! I intend to keep coming back, and just wanted to add my notice of goosebumps to this conversation!
I was winging it with this post 😉 and hope I've made it enough "to the point"! Everyone have a very blessed day....I will be looking forward to the book, thank you. ❤
I hope you write something in the future! It's not being stuck if you want to talk about your son, the love, how beautiful and great he was. You can honor his life. You're turning that pain into creativity. Maybe that process is your own unfolding and blossoming.
And by not getting to the point, it's all part of wandering. Sometimes to find the point, you have to lose it sometimes :) So keep being curious and not getting to the point. It's much more courageous than trying always to be right.
Thank you Antonio, for the very kind comment. Yes, there has been a LOT of wandering, and realizing that it is OK to be me. In fact, there is only ONE me! I'm still a bit timid about being public with comments, yet, this space is full of people I can relate to in their sharing. I know I am more comfortable about belonging as opposed to trying to "fit in".
I treasure every bit of my son's life and always will. His name is Chase 😎❤Bless you!
I’m sure Chase is a big part of your creative input! And a driving force.
Wow, can I relate to this! I understand the fear of sharing your perspectives for all to see, but I have been doing it anyway because it is so cathartic. A therapist said I was courageous for doing so. Another person commented on one of my Facebook posts that I was brave. This is what I posted on Facebook Monday morning with the goal of clearing my mind and it worked: Sometimes, I feel as if I am drowning. I have been flooded with one event after another and am ravaged by distractions. I had a complaint about something and an email asking if I am attending an event I didn’t even know about.
For my work, it is crucial that I have a clear mind, so I can get in flow and eliminate any distractions.
This morning, I found out there is storm damage I need to photograph yet I need to finish all the stuff I have already started.
Then there is my personal life. I am undergoing a shift in beliefs and perspectives. Parts of me that represent my true self that I often tried to suppress are forcing their way to the surface in a way that is too powerful to stop. This is much deeper than changes within me, it’s spiritual and commonly called “The Dark Night of the Soul.” Yes, I am a very spiritual and introspective person and sometimes my perspectives feel as lonely as the places I photograph.
There is a part of me in many of these photos that reveals a longing for deeper connections and meaning. I know I should not let personal distractions spill over into work, but when so much of my work involves my mind, it can be hard to turn things off.
So, yes, it can feel as if I am drowning and there is no one who understands or is coming to rescue me, so I shall face it alone as I have done so many times in the past.
This venting is for my benefit alone and I don’t want sympathy. Expressing myself in words or photographs is more than just a hobby or profession. It is self-care. Anyway, back to work and hopefully, this has cleared my mind.
Matt, I really feel this is a safe place to share. This will probably be wonderful for your self care. It seems that what you do pokes at what you feel in regards to what you see. Sharing that may be what you are supposed to do! For yourself, and others. Calling all of the stimula a drowning experience is really interesting, and a powerful way to describe it. So much of today is shocking or triggering. You are brave and courageous to be involved, and need your self care along the way. Thank you for sharing. Peace
I would love to see your pictures. By what you just said, I want to see them as I wouldn't expect art to be otherwise. Pictures are your own lens into the world. I'm sure you're doing great, maybe don't be so hard on yourself. Also spilling may be part of the human experience, we integrate and that also means something may spill into the pic, and why not, make it more beautiful and unique.
Thanks for sharing!
Deeply thought provoking and a bit triggering. I can relate. What a brave woman sharing her story. No one suppressed "the real me" with medication, I did that myself. It triggers so many questions. I'm often left wondering, why did I do that, suppress "real me"? Do I need to know the why, and if I do find the answer, will that remove the cage? Questions. Questions.
Books have always been a lifeline to me since I was a kid. Someone else’s painful experience transferred to the page becomes another’s balm. While going through a period of intense challenge not too far back, I found myself drawn to writing poetry and sketching on my iPad. It would calm my spirit and sooth my soul.
As things got lighter over time, I decided to put my poems and illustrations into a book - I felt a strong need to make something good come out of that dark period. I couldn’t see the gift in it so I created it :) So, yes, I very much resonate with the need to create artful meaning out of misery. It’s a powerful way to keep hope alive, and give purpose to the pain.
Thank you Susan for yet another deep introspection. Allison is brave to tell her story. Reading your exchange has me amazed at the timing of just having come across a book called The Unshaming Way by
David Bedrick, founder of the Santa Fe Institute for Shame-based Studies. Can’t wait to dip into it! The more we can do away with all the internalized gunk the more we can be free to be who we truly are. Many blessings!
That passage from the book gave me goosebumps. This hit home and resonated strongly. Although I haven't gone through any medical trauma, I can relate to the feeling of needing to hide a part of yourself due to shame and fear of what others will think.
I always find it so interesting that society always thinks that we should be perfect and all should be sanguine. However, as humans, we each have a lot of depth that isn't often seen and expressed. But when someone taps into that depth with great courage -- thank you Allison for your bravery in sharing this -- humanity seems to sometimes breathe a collective sigh of relief in seeing that other side and knowing that we're all a bit messy, no matter how perfect we may seem.
Thank you Susan for sharing this and again, thank you Allison for sharing this story.
Perfect.
This post has really moved me. Because it resonated so deeply. This is the reason I love reading (and would like to write one day if I find the courage). For those moments when I deeply feel "I'm not alone". And somehow my soul is healed a little. Thank you for sharing, Susan. It feels like a book I would definitely love to read.
Between lines there is a real desire of Allison Sweet grant to help not only herself but also people. So the person who has a driven will to offer love to other people that capturing his/her pure inner and capacity to get rid of pains or probably to turn into creativity.
Yes - I’ve heard a few people say ‘writing isn’t therapy', and I know what they really mean, but art is mostly about trying to make sense of ourselves and of other people.
Writing should be something that is of any meaning to you. No need to put a tag into it.
That said, if writing is therapy to you, great. You're already using creativity to look pain into the eye and create something better (and beautiful!). :)
Susan, thank you so much for highlighting I Am the Cage in The Quiet Life, and for welcoming a conversation about pain, a topic so often avoided or brushed under the rug. I love the idea of using whatever it is that causes you pain as a catalyst for creativity, and it really captures the impetus of I Am the Cage to a tee. The process of writing this book has indeed been bittersweet, and has taught me more than anything else that sometimes the most beautiful things can come from our most trying moments.
I'm putting your book into the Wish List, Allison! Having Susan recommend it is for sure a way to say "This book is great!". Appreciate your courage for putting your story out there.
Allison, I can’t wait to read your book. I know after I read it I will feel a kinship. I am going to start working on telling my own story. Any thoughts or advice you can give me would be greatly appreciated. My comment is listed under Deborah. Just the excerpt was tremendously moving.
I think time itself heals wounds a bit. Or maybe it's just that as we get older we simply don't feel anything--any experience or any memory--as intensely as we did when our nervous systems were less, um, "aged".
Three decades after some difficult experiences inflicted by certain individual(s) related to a large group accountability training (LGAT) in the "human potential movement" of yesteryear, I thought I'd write a short story to myself, expressing my experience and imagining successfully dealing with the memories and trauma. The writing definitely stirred the memories, but it didn't relieve the trauma.
But the aging thing seems to be working--slowly, over time. So, my strategy is to continue aging! ;-)
Yes... and telling the story as I did in my memoir removed the power of shame that never should have belonged to me in the first place. But I was a child, and the only one who didn't know I was the innocent party. Sharing my truth through writing has been the healing medicine, with only positive side-effects, both for me and many of my readers.
Yes...and I realized it today, in fact. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I was practicing music today and had a mini cry-sesh in the middle of it.
When I was little, my parents moved across the country, far away from my extended family. Shortly after my parents converted to evangelical christianity, which further distanced them from their relatives. The cycle continued and as an adult I deconverted and distanced myself from my parents (which further distanced me from any relatives).
Since my Dad's passing last year, I've been getting to know my aunt Camille who is a fascinating person. I understand now why my parents didn't want me to have a relationship with her! She's a feminist trailblazer, force of nature and talented artist. She's one-of-kind, just herself with no filters: here's a 75 year old, stylish widow dating a 50-something guy and she's telling me about getting her ass waxed (though she put it in more crude terms)...I nearly died laughing so hard!!!!
As we've been getting to know each other, I've been hearing all the family history on my Dad's side—as he rarely ever spoke about his past—and learning family personalities, dynamics, health conditions I should be aware of and secrets that help me understand my parents and our upbringing a bit more. This reunion has been a source of joy and connection but also a very painful reminder that I never got to really know my grandparents, aunts/uncles who have passed. I feel that I was robbed of family elders who would have understood me and nutured my creativity. My grandmother in particular LOVED music so much. But I wrote a new song today after my mini-breakdown - a song of self-healing and I know I'll be including it on my next album.
Thank you for this post...it feels good to share this today. Oh and the book sounds *amazing*.
Hope you can write something about your aunt Camille! She sounds amazing, and despite you're a musician I hope you can write about it, at least for yourself. Your way of talking about it really picked my interest!
Thanks for sharing.
The piece I hid -- I even hid from myself. When I was in Group Therapy (in my 20s and 30s) and would be "called" on something I had said or done (probably deserved, though that wasn't how it felt at the moment) -- I would then go home -- anxious and forlorn -- and tell myself (more than once) "I don't deserve to be with people." It was only years later - reading Brené Brown - that I understood that I was feeling deep Shame. As Brené defined it: "Shame is the intensely painful feeling that we are unworthy of love and belonging." Exactly how I felt. She gave my feeling a Name. The word "shame" wasn't even in my vocabulary. I don't remember -ever- having used it prior to reading it in her books. So I was boxed in by Shame -- and Ashamed of feeling that way. Speechless - and alone - in my suffering. Brené's work was one of my keys out of my dungeon. Another key was a book by Oprah and Bruce Perry ("What Happened To You?"), which helped me re-define my history, releasing my belief that there was something inherently wrong with me -- another secret I kept hidden - also out of Shame. Another leg in a long journey to wholeness. Thank you Susan for giving us all these outlets to share.
Oh, wow. You spoke to me, Jay.
I've been feeling a lot of Shame through the years, specially in my marriage, as I feel I haven't been the best husband. But despite that, my wife still believes in me. Loves me. Still wants me to be a father for my girls. So, despite I still feel shame at times, as I'm still work in progress, I feel hope. A hope that rises out of negativity, projecting into the future.
You're not alone. And you certainly are entitled and gave to be hopeful. I for sure believe in you, too.