The Plea

I have a request, or even more of a plea for those of you who have a loved one struggling with mental illness. Please Trust Us. I know I recently posted something similar to this, but it is important enough to warrant another post.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the reason so many of us feel forced to keep our illness a secret. We fear that if we’re honest about it we will lose what little control and relief we have over our lives. We are utterly terrified that as soon as people know, they’ll treat us differently, hide things from us, and that they’ll start rationalizing their choices by saying “Well I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want you to go kill yourself.”

I cannot begin to tell you the overwhelming amount of emotions that follow hearing that. Hurt, fear, disappointment, failure, betrayal and so many more emotions begin to strangle us. By saying this I am not hoping to coerce you into hiding that fear from us. I don’t want it to constantly be an unspoken fear in your mind, because that is just as poisonous to a relationship as saying those painful words.

What I want, what we all want, is for you to trust us. It has been almost six years since my suicide attempt, and it has been a year and a half since I stopped needing to take anti-depressants. Yet, just a month ago my life was turned upside down by those words. Someone I care about was knocked back by hearing the same thing recently. From our side, we can see how our history with suicide and depression can be worrisome for the people around us, put you still have to trust us.

We are strong. We are resilient. We know how to fight this illness and we know how to ask for help. Yes, we need your support, and yes there may be times where we come to you sobbing or enraged because our body chemistry is different and we need you to help us be strong, but the thing we need more than anything else, is your trust. If you can’t trust that we are okay and that we are strong enough to deal with suicidal feelings that may or may not ever return, then our relationship with you, whether you’re a friend, a parent, a significant other, or a relative, will not be able to survive.

Trust us, so we know that we can trust you.   

Reasons for Secrets

There is a reason that more and more we are hearing about escalating suicide rates. Just yesterday my hometown newspaper had a front page story about record high rates in our county. There are numerous contributing factors, but I think the biggest one is attitude. Our society's attitude towards mental illness has begun to change, but not enough. We still judge, stereotype and cringe when we hear "mental illness". People who suffer these conditions feel embarrassed and ashamed to come forward and ask for help. In some cases, like mine, they don't even know their condition exists and is treatable, and they simply thing they're genuinely going crazy and are terrified of being found out.

In most cases, people who have depression, anxiety, or any other type of mental health issue, keep it a secret. We don't tell anyone what's wrong, we don't ask for help, and most of all we never speak of the dark times when death seems like the only option. There are a lot of reasons for this, and everyone's are different, but for the most part it boils down to the fact that we don't want to be treated differently.

I don't want to be handled with kit gloves, or be treated like a fragile child who can't handle life. I'm me. I'm an adult. I can handle the things life throws at me, its just that sometimes they're harder for me to handle than the average person. Yes, I am different, but I'd rather suffer silently and be treated like a normal person, than a "normal" person.

For me personally, there was always one specific fear that haunted me about telling the world I had depression. I felt like if I told people, I wouldn't be able to be in control of my emotions. I feared not being able to just be sad or have a bad day, because people would jump to the conclusion that I was in some deep depression funk. I had flashes in my mind of people saying things like "you're not gonna kill yourself, are you?" any time that I wasn't deliriously happy. When the average person is having a bad day, people just say "oh yeah I get it" or "it'll get better". But when someone like me has a bad day it becomes a crisis and people start googling the suicide hotline number.

When someone is sad, just let them be sad, or angry, or frustrated. Let everyone, depressed or not, be free to have emotions. No one is happy all the time, but making a big deal about someone being unhappy, or worse telling them to stop it or cut it out, is not helpful. It succeeds only in furthering the belief that we need to constantly fake joy. When we create a culture where it is considered okay and normal to feel and have genuine emotions, we are empowering people to take care of themselves.

Sharing My Story

This week is Suicide Prevention Week, and I thought it would be the perfect time to share a piece of my story that most people don’t know. Some of the details or fuzzy, I couldn’t event tell you the day or month this happened, and some are still crystal clear, like the flavor of ice cream I ate and the color of the notebook I wrote in. Regardless of what I can and can’t remember clearly, overall it is a night that I will never forget. 

I was 16, and it was a weeknight in winter, maybe February or March. I was alone in my room, sitting on my bed, struggling yet again with my physics homework. No amount of notes, teachers or tutors had helped me be able to understand it. As I stared at the hellish worksheet in front of me I started crying, and something in me snapped. I decided to give up, no on the homework, but on everything. It had just become too much. 

It’s important to know that I didn’t decide to end my life because of physics homework I couldn’t understand. My life in those days was full of loneliness, pain, abuse, struggle, few friends, a shattered heart, events that shook my faith and bullying. These things sent me spiraling deeper and deeper into a depression I didn’t know I had. Back then I didn’t know that depression was an illness and that I couldn’t control. I genuinely thought that I was just a crazy, broken girl with no light in sight. So in that moment, when everything became too much, I took back the only control I thought I had, and decided to free myself from my pain, and the people around me from the burden of my existence. 

As soon as I made the decision, I remember feeling calm and relieved. In my mind I was not making a rash decision, but a logical choice. I can remember going to the kitchen because I was hungry and getting ice cream. I took the whole pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cake Batter ice cream, thinking that since I was going to end my life, the calories really wouldn’t make a difference. I sat on my bed, ice cream to my left, green notebook on my lap, and began to write my goodbyes. I wrote letters to my mom, dad, little brother and a small handful of close friends. 

Looking back, I’m still shocked at how calm and logical everything seemed to me. From the moment I decided I needed to die, to the moment I began swallowing handfuls of pills, there were two to three hours of time. I ate ice cream, I wrote my goodbyes, and I validated my choice calmly and rationally. I remember lying down in bed, a stomach full of pills, ready to go to sleep forever, and I remember exactly why I’m still alive. 

Everything was fine, I had no regrets or concerns or worries, except for one. I began thinking about the events that would follow my death. I had included some instructions with my goodbyes, songs to play and what I wanted to wear (even in a suicidal depression I was a planner). But the thought that stopped me in my tracks was what would happen first. My mom would come into my room the next morning and find me, and in the end that thought saved my life (Mom guilt for the win). 

I went to my mom’s room, told her I needed her, and eventually ended up in the local ER. From there I spent two more years suffering silently until I was diagnosed. And now, five years after I tried to end my life, I have finally found true bliss. I can say without hesitation that I am happy, and that I love my life. It took years of pain and suffering and hell to get here, but it was worth it.  

Midnight Realizations

Many people who meet me and know me, don't know about my history with mental illness. They don't know about the six years I spent struggling daily with depression, anxiety, self harm and suicidal thoughts. They also may not know that it is because of those six years of torturous hell, that I am who I am. The girl I am now, is the girl that people say "Her? She has depression? No way." That's the way it is for a lot of people with depression. In many of our cases, the truth of our diagnosis is so shocking because of how hard we work to build a facade of happiness. But for some of us, after a lot of hard work, the truth of our conditions are shocking because of how genuinely happy we are.

I can't speak for the people around me, but I do believe that if you asked them about me, one of the first words they would use to describe me is "happy", and they would be right. But what many of them dont know, or dont understand, is why I am always so happy, excited, smiley and loving.

For the last 18 months I have been symptom free. No crippling depression, no anxiety attacks, no days where I'm too emotionally exhausted to pull myself out of bed. I may not have every single thing that I want in my life, but I'm happy, every day, and that is all I could ever ask for. Every single day I wake up and I spend my day learning, laughing, smiling and spending time with a huge group of incredible people that I'm lucky enough to call my friends.

I'm not telling you this to brag. I'm not trying to dangle my happiness in the face of your struggle. I'm telling you all of this because of how close it came to not happening. There were a handful of times when I was in college, during some of the worst times of my struggles, that I considered suicide. There were nights when I barely escaped falling into the trap of believing that the only way to end the pain, was to end my life.

From my lowest point, it was still years before I was able to begin recovering. I've been symptom free for a year and half now, but it's only been the last few months that my life has been truly blissful. I know what it is like to struggle with depression and anxiety. I know what it is like to have your heart racing, and be hyperventilating during a panic attack. I know what it is like to stare at the pills on your nightstand for hours trying not to think about how simple it would be to take them all and never have to be in pain again. But I also know happiness. I know what ti is like to not have to take anti-depressants every day. I know what it feels like to be truly happy in your heart all time.  

But most importantly, I know that you are strong enough to fight back, and find your way to happiness. If I can do it, you can too. And I promise you, that each second of happiness, is worth years of fighting.

You can beat this.

Dear Mark Carpowich

So today, while looking through Yahoo News, I saw an article about Taylor Swift. Seeing as T-Swift is one of my favorite singers, and people in general, I obviously clicked on it. Come to find out, the article is a detestable piece of fiction that does nothing but list invalid ramblings as to why this man thinks Taylor Swift is no longer a role model for young girls. I'm sorry mark, but you're completely off your rocker, and I'm going to tell you why, point by point. Why am I doing this? Because Taylor Swift has been a defining role model in my life since I was 13 years old. She helped me through heartbreak, struggles with depression and even in the last year she's played a large role in helping me understand how to depend on myself for happiness, and how to embrace myself for who I am, and empower myself. If someone was trashing my family, or my best friend, I wouldn't sit by idly. So don't expect anything less that a strong selection of words when someone who has had a significantly impactful influence on my life is attacked.

Mark Reason #1: Taylor Swift only surrounds herself with "rich, famous and powerful women".

Why is this a problem? Taylor Swift is a successful young musician. Why wouldn't she hang out with other musicians? And the models, yeah she met them while performing at the Victoria Secret fashion show. I'm a college student. The majority of my friends are people around my age, who I work with and attend classes with. But yeah, Taylor is a completely awful person for being friends with a diverse group of strong, successful, independent women. Shield your daughters from such heinous behavior!

Mark is also displeased with the guests on Taylor's 1989 Tour. He wants her to be supporting unknown artists looking for their break. Maybe she can write a letter convincing a multi-million dollar company to pay those up and coming artists for their music instead of giving it away for free for 3 months. Oh yeah wait she already did that! I guess it really does say a lot about Taylor that DOZENS of interntionally renowned performers are willing to join her onstage and perform. Clearly this type of behavior is evidence of her demonic personality. Oh, and remind me again Mark, are her opening acts super famous or are they some relatively unknown up and comers? (I can wait while you look it up Mark, cause you clearly didn't fact check that before you started writing.)

Mark Reason #2: She Uses Others to Build Her Brand

According to Mark, T-Swift is just a big user, and has been since she "made her name in country music by titling her first single after another whose name was already established: Tim McGraw". I hardly think Tim McGraw, or his reputation had anything to do with her success. I'm sure the fact that every album she's ever released has been record breaking is completely because she had one song on her self-titled debut album. Riddle me this Mark, is Brad Paisley a user? Eric Church? Cause they both happen to have songs titled after other artists. Should I stop respecting the because of that? 

Mark Reason #3: Her Charity

I think my favorite part about this one is the fact that he first does actually talk about how Taylor is very charitable, he has no issue with that, in fact he even mentions the fact that Swift is recognized as one of the music industry's MOST philanthropic entertainers. Mark is just unsatisfied with how Taylor gives to charity. Yeah, I'm serious. Mark doesn't like that Taylor Swift chooses where make her contributions through fan surveys. I guess seeking feedback from a dedicated group of fans, and trying to be charitable in ways that will benefit them directly is super selfish of Tay. And I am sure that if we were to pull Mark's taxes they would reflect that he donates a reasonable amount of his income to a variety of charitable organizations. Of course, I would never judge him based on what he does or doesn't contribute to charity, nor question his reasoning, because that's none of my damn business and it would be rude to criticize a person's philanthropic choices.  

Mark Reason #4: She's Promoting Vanity

Apparently T-Swift is a deplorable human for A) Being an entrepreneur and B) Being a spokes person. According to him, her role as a spokeswoman for CoverGirl is inconsistent with Taylor's "love who you are" attitude. Ellen Degenres was also a CoverGirl spokeswoman, does Mark think she's a bad role model too? So, I can't love myself and mascara? Guess I can't be a confident and love myself, because I also happen to love eye shadow. 

Now, there were even more digs at Taylor Swift in Mark's little article, but for the sake of length I'm not going to get in to his inaccurate description of her musical evolution, or call him an idiot for saying she abandoned country music. I am absolutely positive that Mark loves the exact same music styles now, as he did when he was 15. And I'm sure he just forgot to consider all the famous male country artists who's music stylings have evolved throughout their careers. 

Basically, what I'm trying to say, is that you shouldn't go off judging a someone you dont know, have never met, and have never spent any time with. That is ignorant, and that is wrong. Mr. Carpowich is doing a wonderful job of showcasing the type of person we dont want our youth to idolize. He just happens to be doing it with his actions, not his writing. 

Mark's Article: 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mark-carpowich/taylor-swift-no-longer-a-role-model-why-everything-has-changed_b_7791264.html

The Real Shame

So, once again, America has completely overreacted to something trivial. We’ve taken something completely innocent, and turned it into a national crisis. We’re very good at this, and I’m kind of glad because it makes coming up with blog posts so much easier.

Oprah Magazine is in the news today because of a piece of fashion advice they gave women. In response to the question “Can I pull off a crop top?” the magazine said “If (and only if!) you have a flat stomach, feel free to try one. For more coverage, layer the top over a longer shirt”. Some people are calling this body shaming. I’m calling those people idiots.

I’m not sure if y’all are aware, but clothing items are not universal. Every person and every different body type can’t all wear the same style, cut, color and look good. We need to applaud Oprah Magazine. They’re doing what so many of us are unwilling to do; be honest about our bodies. 

One of my biggest pet peeves is when women refuse to dress in clothing that is flattering for their figure, because they can’t or won’t accept their bodies. Look at me, I’m a big girl. I know it, I own it, I whine about it on occasion (I’m only human after all). But I also dress for my body type. And guess what, its not all baggy sweaters. I’m fat but I’ll be damned if I don’t look cute as hell in an A-line dress. I know what kind of clothes flatter me, and I don’t really give a damn what the number on the tag says.

I have a pudgy white stomach, and I have no business wearing a crop top. Why would I? A crop top is not going to flatter my body, and Oprah Magazine knows that. They didn’t say “All you fat asses shouldn’t wear a crop top”. They said it’s flattering on women with flat stomachs (True.) and even gave a secondary option on how to wear a crop top if you don’t have a flat stomach (Thanks for the idea O!)

There is a distinct difference between body shaming, and being realistic about your style. We can’t be so over sensitive to things like this. If we turn every piece of fashion advice into body shaming, we’re going to create an environment where no one can be honest about their body. We need to focus on creating an open dialogue so that young girls can learn to embrace the body they have and rock it, not hide it while constantly saying “I’ll buy that when I can fit in the smaller size” or “I’ll be happy when I lose 10 more pounds.”

If your mom or your best friend told you to put the crop top down cause it didn’t look good on you, you would thank them for saving you from being a fashion don’t, but if Oprah does it she’s body shaming? Oprah? We’re really accusing the queen of embracing your body of being a body shamer? *Raises one eyebrow and shakes head* I don’t think so y’all.  

Anxiety Calling

One of the conditions I struggle with is anxiety. I have been diagnosed with both Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder. In the past these caused me to have severe panic attacks, often late at night, and that is a pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I also sometimes have trouble in places that are very cramped, crowded and loud. I get overwhelmed and need to remove myself from the situation and take a few minutes to calm down and collect myself. These anxiety attacks are something that over the last few years I have been able to work to handle, and now they happen very infrequently. But even though these big symptoms are infrequent, and even though I’m now confident and able to handle them, there are still things that instantly fill me with fear.

Phones. I am terrified of phones. I know what you’re thinking, “Phones? Is she serious? Phones are not that scary, come on Liz get over it”. I know that phones shouldn’t be scary. The logical part of my brain is right with you, but the rest of me is not. The thought of having to pick up the phone and make a call (with the exception of my parents and close friends) terrifies me. It doesn’t matter if I’m calling a news station to coordinate media for an event, or calling the Doctor’s office to schedule an appointment. The minute I start thinking about calling, my body goes into panic mode. My heart races, it gets harder to breath, my stomach is in knots and my hands get shaky, and I have no control over it. I can take a few deep breaths, but that only does so much.

Now, something you should know about me. I am not an overly shy person. I make conversation with strangers, I speak up in class, I propose ideas in meetings, I’m even a campus tour guide. I am a confident, well -spoken person who doesn’t get intimidated, except by telephones apparently. But that is the thing about anxiety. It doesn’t play by the rules, it isn’t logical. I absolutely love spending 90 minutes talking with a group of potential students and parents, but when it comes to calling customer service to get a coupon code, it is painful. I put things off far too long to avoid it, and when I do make a call, it is guaranteed that I have a cheat sheet of all the possible information I might need on the call.

Making a phone call, something that is done millions of times a day, is a painful ordeal for me. But it is also a necessity for my personal and professional life. It’s not something I can just “get over”. It’s a heart pounding, hand shaking, fear inducing activity equivalent to the moment before a roller coaster plummets down the first hill.

Yes, I’m handling my depression. Yes, I’m handling my anxiety. Yes, I am a confident, hard worker. And yes, I am a young woman who, even in my most successful times, struggles to overcome her symptoms. Never take advantage the things you can do with ease, and always remember that we all struggle with something.

Step Off

So, the other night I was texting a new guy. We were having a casual conversation and he started making very flattering statements. You're gorgeous, You're such a hottie, and things of that nature. Now don't get me wrong, I love a compliment just as much as the next girl, but there comes a point when I'm ready to move on. So, after three of four of these compliments, I told him "you dont have to keep complimenting me".

I thought it was a pretty simple request, but the boy decided to sass me. "Fine, then I guess I wont." At this point I'm sighing at my phone, I'm not a person who thrives on drama and enjoys playing games. So I clarified, "I just mean that if you want to have a conversation, that's great, but I'm not the kind of girl who needs to be complimented a lot." Simple, polite, to the point, right? Nope. I was met with, "If you're gonna be a bitch about it, forget it."

Um, what? Let me see if I have this straight, I politely told a guy that I wanted to have an actual conversation, instead of him just continually complimenting me, and I'm a bitch? Suuuure, that makes complete and total sense. Or NOT. Is anyone else getting incredibly sick of constantly being judged by strangers? I am.

If you're a virgin then you're a prude, but if you're not a virgin, regardless of how many times you've been physical, you're a whore. If you're modest you're shy, but if you're confident then you're just full of yourself and have a big head. Successful? No, you're just braggy. Smart? Nope, showoff.

If you ask me, it's about time we stop letting everyone else define us based on their beliefs, and stop letting them twist and deform our best qualities into negative labels. The only person with the power to define your labels, is YOU. The content of your character is not based on a public poll, its based on what you do. Your actions speak much louder than others' ignorant, judgmental words.

Everyone Deserves to Have a Safe Day, Everyday.

I want to live in a world where depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide and mental and emotional health issues aren't something anyone has to feel ashamed of. I want to live in a world where we accept the flaws in ourselves and in others and embrace those who need help. I want to live in a better world.

I am going to make this a better world.

Spring Break Up

A few months ago, a three year year friendship of mine ended suddenly. In a span of two weeks we went from best friends who spent all their time together, to absolutely nothing. The basic, politically correct summary of events is that we were no longer compatible as friends.

In my opinion, breaking up with a friend is much harder than ending a romantic relationship, especially after years of friendship. Needless to say when the previously mentioned events occurred I was heart broken. I was sad, confused and also incredibly pissed off. From my perspective, I see her at fault for what happened, though I'm sure she feels the same way about me.

I think that was the worst part of it. The way it felt like I had no control over the situation as it was happening. But then I realized something. I decided towards the end of the two week soap opera we were starring in, that I was okay with this. I know the kind of people I want in my life, and the kinds of friends I want to keep company with, and I could see this girl was never going to be one                                                          of those people.

So we after she broke up with me in a blindsiding text, I wrote out all of my feelings towards her and about our friendship and I emailed it to her. (After the first week I realized this was the type of situation that was not going to play out anywhere but through technology). That was that. I mourned for a bit, tears were shed, but you know what? Since then, I've never missed this person.

I haven't regretted the friendship ending and I've never had any desire to try and repair it. And that's okay. Some people aren't meant to be in your life forever. I realized after a few weeks that this girl couldn't have been a crucial person in my life, because her absence wasn't felt. And that's okay. If someone leaves your life, regardless of the circumstances, you aren't required to miss them.

I had spent so many years of my life unhappy and miserable, that when I realized this girl wasn't making my life better, I was fine with it ending. You have that power. Be picky, say no. Don't worry about always being politically correct or polite. You deserve to have a life you love filled with people who make you happy. If that means saying no to a job you hate, quitting a group because you're only giving and getting nothing out of it, or ending a friendship to remove petty drama from your life, just DO IT!

Make your life exactly what you want it to be. Because if you don't love it, you're not going to want to live it.

Hey Stephen

To make a long intro short, one of my friends recently went through a breakup, and the boy she broke up with made some very interesting (and by interesting I mean ignorant, childish and infuriating) comments. He sent the following message that made me so angry I could have thrown something.

You're a smart human, you can read, but let me go ahead and sum those little gray bubbles up for you. This boy has not only diminished depression to something you should "push yourself past" but he also says that some people "are just too weak to do anything about it." Excuse me? No. If it weren't for the fact that I didn't have my passport on me, I'd have driven to Canada where that moron resides and given him a high five in the face with a chair.

People like to think that depression isn't a big deal and that it's nothing to waste worry on. Depression is not the same as being sad. Yes, everyone gets sad and a lot of people get sorrowful, but those feelings are completely different than the disease that is depression. Comparing being sad to having depression is like saying having a cold is like having cancer. Do not underestimate it.

People like that boy, with attitudes like that, are the main reason there is such a negative attitude towards people with mental and emotional illnesses. Growing up I didn't know what depression was, I thought it was just a synonym for sadness. Even when I began suffering from depression I didn't know what it was. It was 3 years before I was diagnosed and another 2 or 3 years after that before I was able to accept and comprehend that depression was out of my control. It's caused by a chemical imbalance and is nearly impossible to overcome, even with medication, Doctors, therapists and a reliable, caring support system.

I am a lucky and blessed girl who had every opportunity and every resource at my disposal when battling my depression, and I still nearly died more than once. So do not EVER, tell me or anyone else that people are just "too weak" to deal with depression. When you say something like that you further the incorrect stereotype that depression is nothing more than being sad. You infer that those of us who have depression are just "being dramatic" or need to "get over it".

Would you tell someone dying of cancer to 'get over it'? Would you tell a war veteran who had to have a limb amputated to 'stop being dramatic'? No, you wouldn't, because they have no control over those circumstances. Neither do we. In order to create a culture that is understanding and accepting of those who struggle with mental and emotional illness, we have to combat this kind of language.

Depression is not something that's easy to understand, and while I can't speak for anyone else, I'm more than willing to talk about my experiences and answer any questions you have about depression. Never let a lack of understanding become inconsiderate ignorance.

Just Another Day In Pilladise

I'm a twenty one year old girl and every night before bed, I have to take three pills. One for a sleep disorder, one for my PCOS and one to control my hormone levels. Some nights I have to toss in an anti-anxiety medication, and there used to be an anti-depressant in the mix too.

Now, please excuse my language, but I fucking hate having to take these pills. I hate it, despise it, detest it. It pisses me off. Do you know what it's like to be a young girl constantly having to down pills because my body is out of control and trying to hurt me? Do you know what it's like to have to constantly wonder if the person you are is truly you, or the effect of some pills?

Every since I was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety and prescribed these drugs for the first time, I've struggled with that question. I have no issues with medication, with it being used to help people or with those who do embrace it, but for whatever reason, my brain can't assimilate to those attitudes.

"I dont want to need a pill to be happy". I've uttered that through tears countless times. Those drugs feel like chains. I felt like they had a power over me, like without them I couldn't survive. Even when I was in the middle of a physically painful, emotionally draining anxiety attack, I'd still be reluctant to take an anti-anxiety pill.

After three years of hating my anti-depressant and questioning sanity and personality I finally just stopped. In May it will be one year since I've taken my anti-depressant, and for now that's great. But at any time my body chemistry could change and I'd be forced to take it again. I'm forever going to have to take drugs to "manage" my PCOS and there's no telling how my hormones will react if I stop taking birth control.

There is a point to my ramblings, I promise. It's fine to be angry. When you struggle with these kinds of medical conditions, or countless others, you can get pissed the hell off. You feel like your being betrayed by your body and that's enough to make anyone lose their cool. So take the control back. Explore your options. Talk to your Doctor about every single question or concern you have. They're there to help, so make them listen and make them understand your concerns and goals.

Our bodies may not know what they're doing, but we sure as hell have the power to fight it.

Forever and Almost Always

I was 15 when I first started suffering from the symptoms of depression. It wasn’t until two and a half years later that I was diagnosed and actually know what was wrong with me. I wish I could say that once I was diagnosed and put on anti-depressants everything got better, but it didn’t. It wasn’t until 2014 that I was finally able to escape the dark, never ending pit that is depression.

Early 2014 was a very dark time, one of the worst periods of depression I’d ever had. In all honesty I did not think I was going to make it, but then something changed. I attended a week long leadership conference and after it, for reasons still a mystery to me, everything changed. I’m talking a complete, 180 degree spin.

For the first time in nearly a decade I could truly say I was happy and genuinely mean it. I was smiling, laughing, adoring every second of the work I was doing. My panic attacks subsided and I no longer woke up to days where the very thought of having to get out of bed exhausted me to the point of tears. It was amazing, but in a way it made me lose sight of a very important fact.

 The other day I was sitting at my kitchen counter when, suddenly and for no reason, I was overcome with an urge to cry. I wasn’t sad, nothing bad had happened, but I still felt as if it had. I realized after a moment, that there really was nothing wrong, I wasn’t subconsciously upset about anything, but I was depressed.

In that moment I came to a long overdue realization. Just because I had been symptom free for eight months, didn’t mean I would be forever. No matter how happy and content I feel, there’s still something in my body that causes me to be sad for no reason. I will always have depression and I will always have anxiety, but I will not always be actively suffering from them.

In the past there were days when I thought I would never be happy again and times when I forgot what it was like to go through a day without struggling. My life used to be darkness with sprinkles of good days and happy memories, but now the opposite is true.

The point here for me is that I am not always going to be 100% happy 24/7, 365 days per year, but that’s okay. You know why? Because it also means I’m not going to be depressed 24/7,  365 either. The great times aren’t going to last forever and be constant, but neither will the bad. 

Panic

There is a large disconnect between those suffering from mental and emotional health issues, and those who've never struggled with them. For many people it is difficult if not impossible to understand or comprehend the experiences of people who struggle with conditions such as depression and anxiety. So today, I'm going to try and lessen that disconnect.

Panic and anxiety attacks are a hell I would genuinely never wish on a single person. To those who've never experienced it, even these words will not be able to fully capture the experience. A panic attack, for me, is like being on the verge of death, with no way of escaping. These attacks are not just mental or emotional, they are very intense physical attacks as well.

I can almost always feel these attacks coming on, which was always more of a torture than a comfort. It would always start with the faintest sense of fear. I would feel uneasy, uncomfortable, as if something bad was going to happen. My heart would begin to speed up and that fear quickly evolved to an overwhelming, smothering feeling.

These feelings of fear, dread and panic quickly explode into an attack. My heart rate quickly escalates, which makes it nearly impossible to breathe. Those symptoms quickly create an inescapable cycle. Heart is racing, cant breathe, afraid because I cant breath, which makes my heart race more. Through all of this I am sobbing. Tears are streaming down my face and these balls of fear and terror build up in my stomach.

This cycle of torture continues until I get to the point where I feel as if I cannot breathe and that I'll never be able to. I feel like I'm going to die, I cant breathe, I begin to beg and plead for the pain to stop. In addition to the sobbing, heart racing and hyperventilating, I also cant sit still. I feel as if I'm going to crawl out of my skin and it is not possible to be still. I stand, and pace, wring my hands, but nothing helps.

Try to imagine the single moment before death. The second of knowing your life is about to end, and having no control to stop it. That's what a panic attack is, but for 20 minutes, 30 minutes, 45 minutes, an hour or more. You have no control over your thoughts, or your feelings or the physical torture you have to endure. Even when it all finally ends, it isn't just over. Your muscles ache, your head pounds from sobbing and, even though you are physically exhausted to the point of no longer being able to function, your brain still continues the assault.

Its not simple, its not something you can just "get over". And its not the same for every person. Even for one person, every attack can be different. Its not easy to understand, but that's okay.

Praying for Acceptance

There are many people in this world who, often as a result of their religion, believe that suicide is a mortal sin, and that any person who commits that act will spend eternity in hell. Firstly, I'd like to say that although I strongly disagree with that belief, I understand that every person has a right to their religious beliefs.

But here's the thing, I only believe that everyone has the right to their own opinions, as long as it doesn't hurt others. I'm finding that more often than not, that many (though not all by any means) of these people make no effort to try and understand those with suicidal histories, and instead judge them.

When I was 15 years old I was struggling secretly with depression, anxiety, bullying and the effects of those situations (things like exhaustion, bad grades, loneliness). I had been praying heavily, literally sobbing and begging god for any kind of help or sign that things would eventually get better. For a year I did that, dropping to my knees and pleading through tears and pain for help. I never got an answer, or a sign, and eventually I gave up hope. At age 16 I made the choice to end my life.

Now, clearly my suicide attempt did not result in my death, and that is a story I will share at some point. However, according to the aforementioned people, I am condemned to spend eternity in hell because of that choice. There are some who believe that if I was to repent and ask for forgiveness, God may forgive my actions and I could have my place back in heaven. Well here's the thing, I'm not asking for forgiveness. I will not repent. I am happy that I am alive today and that that night was not the end of my life, but I will not apologize for my choices.

If you have never struggled with depression, anxiety or any other type of emotional/mental illness, you cannot understand those who do. I'm sure it is very easy to express those beliefs when you've led a blessed and happy life, and I understand that if you've never had your faith tested in such an extreme manner, that it must be somewhat impossible to comprehend the thought of giving up on god. I'm sure it is just as difficult for dedicated religious believers to understand what I went through, as it is for me to understand how they could seemingly completely write people off due to one decision.

In my opinion, religion is one of the largest contributors to suicide. People take the black and white words of the bible or other religious texts and take them in a very literal way. We do not live in the same times as the people of the bible. Our society is far more complex and we are facing much more serious issues. Depression and suicidal thoughts are not something you can pray away. We need to take a step back and find a way to hold on to religious beliefs, without condemning others for not fitting their strict checklists.

We do not need a world without religion. we need a world with more understanding and willingness to learn.

"It Gets Better" isnt total bull

When I was in my deepest struggles and my worst times, there were few things I hated more than hearing "it will get better" or "its all going to be okay". When you can barely bring yourself to get out of bed and drag yourself through the day, those phrases are infuriating. Mostly because at that point in your life it never has gotten better. Every day has either been a living hell, or one of those less-bad days between the hell.

This time a year ago, in all honesty, I did not think I would live to see the end of the semester, much less 2015. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail right now, but basically, I spent a handful of nights using every ounce of strength I had to keep from ending my life. It was a dark time and I was struggling very deeply every single moment.

Now, it's a year later. I earned a 3.4 GPA in the fall semester. I was hired to manage a program that I've been a part of for 3 years and love. I'm coordinating a leadership program, which is one of the things that led me to make life changing decisions, and I'm still working a bit with Intern Heaven (I'm pretty optimistic about our long distance relationship). Not to mention I have an amazing group of friends, a wonderful family, and classes I'm actually enjoying (clearly none of them are math based).

Okay, so anyways, the point of this. I'm not trying to brag, I'm not trying to make you feel like you're not doing enough. I just want you to know that you are going to be successful. Life is going to completely suck for a long time, it was 4 and half years for me, but eventually its going to suck less. At some point, things will change, you will change.

I cant give you a road map or a list of instructions, eight months after it happened to me I still couldn't tell you exactly what happened. Events in my life fell at the same point that something in my brain changed. I was put in a unique situation which I went into with an open mind. I decided I was done hiding my struggles and my history. I was open about what was happening to me, and I was lucky enough to do that in a very open, accepting place.

So when you're having a bad night, when you're trying to resist the call of the pills on your nightstand, when it seems like you are never going to have another good day, just know that eventually things will change. You will be given the power to change what's happening, or your brain chemistry will change, or you'll find a place you feel safe enough to start the long journey back to happiness (that sounds hella cheesy, but I mean it).

A year ago I was contemplating suicide, now I've come to a point where I can use my pain and my struggle to hopefully help someone else, even just one person. I was able to take control of my depression and anxiety, and use that pain for good. You're going to come out of your pain with a new strength, what will you do with it?

Fancy Pants

When I’m not in school, I work in the Marketing & Events Department (also known as Intern Heaven) for a Health System. I adore this job, however, the first thing I do when I get home from work is ditch my dress clothes and go straight for the yoga pants. Well, the other day must have been particularly long because I paid so little attention when I was changing that I put my yoga pants on backwards. The best part of this whole thing was the fact that I did not notice for a solid three hours.

Eventually I looked down and thought, “Why is there a zipper there?” (You know that pocket where people who actually engage in physical activity while in yoga pants?) I remained befuddled for a decent stretch of time until I put two and two together and realized my pants were on backwards. After coming to this realization I looked down at my pants again, shrugged and said ‘whatever’.

I mean I’m in yoga pants, am I really expecting to see anyone A) who is important enough to warrant me needing real pants or B) anyone who was going to pay close enough attention to my thighs that they’d notice my backwards pants? The answer is no, though to be totally honest even if I did see my one of my bosses whilst wearing my backwards pants, that is so far from something that could embarrass me.

So there is a point to telling you this story, I promise, and here it is. In life, you’re gonna mess up. You may put your pants on the wrong way, or you may flunk an important test or completely screw up a big project, but even when you make those kinds of mistakes, its no reason to strip down and start all over. Embrace it! Mistakes are AWESOME. They suck, but after about 5 minutes you’re going to learn something important that’ll make you a better person and you will survive (Even if your parents say they’re going to kill you. They’re not, I promise.)

So mess things up, make mistakes, embrace them and move on. Backwards yoga pants have never caused the world to burn, and neither will the wonderful mistakes you make.

Never Apologize for the Events that Made You Who You Are

PB and One Tree

So, I am 21 years old, halfway to 22, and I am just now learning to love myself. I've spent the last few days and nights primarily by myself. Today, after hanging out with my best friend in the world, I was alone. I did laundry, I watched Netflix, I made pasta and I just hung out, by myself, with myself.

Being alone used to terrify me. There was nowhere to hide when I was alone. Without anyone t pretend for, I was quickly surrounded by my fears, insecurities, flaws and the reality I wasn't ready to deal with.

The realization wasn't sudden or overwhelming. It was a brief thought, followed by a content smile and a return to my new love, peanut butter ice cream. Seriously have you people tried this stuff? I mean peanut butter ice cream with a fudge ribbon and monster cookie chunks. It's incredibly delicious and I wish I'd discovered it sooner...but I digress.

Being alone can be scary and terrifying and you will try to avoid it like it will be the death of you because, sometimes, it feels like it will be. Panic attacks, the deepest bouts of depression and the most dangerous thoughts all seem to come when no one is around and the only sounds are the voices taunting you. But despite all of that bad stuff, there's gonna be good stuff. There's going to come a point where being alone isnt tears and pills and pain. Being alone will be dancing around like an idiot to loud music, watching a marathon of One Tree Hill (Brooke Davis is my #1 role model btw) and ice cream.

One day, after a lot of bad times, long struggles and hard fights, being alone is not going to be terrifying, its going to be peanut butter ice cream.

So Here's to Us

This blog is something I've wanted to do for a long time, and I think now is a great time to start. But before I started this, I approached a few people in my life to tell them about it. I was surprised at some of the reactions I got. While a lot of people were very supportive, others had a different reaction. They warned me that if I was open about my condition, people would use it against me, and that it wasn't something I should tell other people. "Why would you ever tell them?" one person asked me.

I have depression. I have social and generalized anxiety. These are not things I should be ashamed of. The fear of judgement and persecution has plagued me since before I even knew exactly why I struggled the way I did. The pain and pressure of having to hide such a huge part of who I was, and being too afraid to ask for help was, in many ways, as bad if not worse than the effects of my conditions. So now, with a firm handle on these conditions and a a history of dealing with them, I'm ready to stand and up and show the world that a diagnosis of depression is not a handicap. It is not the end of a happy life, but also that it is not something to take lightly.

This blog is a compilation of several things. Part of it is my story; the things I struggled with, what I learned and the experiences I had. Part of it is to shed some light on the unique experiences of mental and emotional health issues in teens and young adults. My hope is that this blog, in all of its parts, can held eliminate the stigmas and stereotypes associated with conditions such as depression, anxiety, suicide, self harm and the other mental health conditions so that we can one day live in a world where no one has to fear the thought of reaching out for help.