When Push Comes to Shove


Hi there!

It’s Friday. We’ve made it to the end of the week and for that I am so exceptionally grateful. This week has taught me more than perhaps my entire first year in college altogether. I know that in the grand scheme of things I’m just experiencing the realities of the beginnings of transition (what I have dubbed the caterpillar effect). I know that all things come to those who wait. I know my future is what I make of it. I know that the sun will rise again and so will I.

I know all those things.

Depression has that weird way of making you feel like you can’t reach the things you know. For example, my most relied on quote (the bolded one above) is true, but I don’t know that I believe it. And that’s frustrating. I was up last night with a new friend who was having a panic attack and I was trying to alleviate those concerns. I know what it’s like, I completely get it. And all the while I felt my own walls caving in on me. Did I say so? Of course not. But it was there, nonetheless.

Always keep fighting. Love yourself first. You are not alone.

Those are the “tag lines” for some of the campaigns that I partake in through the Supernatural fandom. And you best believe that I’ve been chanting them over and over again since I woke up this morning. Every theme song for carrying on has been blasting through my headbuds, every inspirational quote has been read, every coping technique I know (that is healthy) has been employed. But my soul is still tired. 

And I think that’s the problem.

Being physically tired is something that often times, a day off and some peace-and-quiet can remedy. Just a break. A nap. But being emotionally, spiritually, mentally tired is something that often comes at a much steeper price. I get enough sleep everyday but my heart and soul just aren’t in “it” anymore. What do I mean by “it”? Well, at this current point-the life I’m living. I mean college and working and “adulting” and well, the total package. Let me be explicitly clear here-I am not headed down the dark and dangerous path of suicidal ideation.  I am just tired in a way that cannot easily be fixed. And I have been for quite some time.

I feel like (and this could be exaggerated because I am depressed) everything I attempt, everything I put myself out there for is getting negative feedback-denial, rejection, being ignored altogether. And that stings a little bit.  It starts to feel like just when I thought I was finding my way through this big journey called life, the universe (fate? Destiny? God(s)?) has stopped believing in me. And I’m starting to cave.

Now, I’m not trying to elicit sympathies or whatnot, as I’ve said before, this is my “journal”-one that I make public to be accountable, to share with the world so that other people may not feel so alone. 

Anyway, I people watch. I see so many people walking down the sidewalks with life in their eyes but I see every so many more who are, just like me, dead inside. And I don’t mean to be melodramatic here. You have seen it too, I’m sure. The people who catch your eye and just look completely used up and empty. Like the world has taken more than they had to give and there’s nothing left but a shell. It’s those people that I understand.

I’ve said before that I don’t feel like praying (in the traditional sense of making yourself look inferior and pleading for help) is something I can get behind. I ask things of the universe as someone who needs things-not as someone unworthy of receiving them. But this past week has seen me asking in every way possible. I’ve even starting asking Angels and Ancestors. I’m starting to feel…desperate.

And I think that’s something a lot of people can relate to. Life isn’t something you can control. You just minimize damage and plan for the best case scenario.

If you take nothing else from this rant, take this:

You may be feeling these things too. You may have left depression in the past, or be waiting for it in your future. But you most definitely aren’t the only person like that. It can’t rain (metaphorically) forever.

Look So Tired

(The title is a song by Landon Pigg-I think it’s phenomenal, just not the one I’m focusing on today. It deals with the same kinda thing though.) There’s a song (a kinda old song) called Comes and Goes in Waves by Greg Laswell. I’ve been working through life and this song brought with it some of the lessons I’ve learned over the past couple months and years.

This one’s for the lonely, the one’s that seek and find
Only to be let down time after time
This one’s for the torn down, the experts at the fall
Come on friends, get up now, you’re not alone at all.

The song starts out with these words and I am immediately drawn in. I’ve been in such a funk lately. It speaks to me of destiny, of the path I am on, they way that I feel lost and hopeless in the face of recent tragedies. The way I feel overwhelmed by how much need there is in the world.

And this part was for her (3x)
Does she remember?
It comes and goes in waves

This is the way depression and anxiety are to me. It comes. It goes. And I struggle to remember that it isn’t always dark skies and sadness.

This one’s for the faithless, the ones that are surprised
They’re only where they are now regardless of their fight
This one’s for believing if only for it’s sake
Come on friends get up now love is to be made

This is the part of the song I connect with on a personal level. I feel like I fight so hard, just to keep myself afloat and it’s all I can do to remind myself that it will be okay-even if I don’t believe it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at where I am and can’t seem to rationalize it against how hard I’ve struggled just to get there.

It comes and goes in waves, I
Am only led to wonder why
It comes in goes in waves, I
Am only led to wonder why
Why I, why I try

I hear these words and nod my head. I want to help the world, but I feel so minuscule in my attempts. I feel like a single grain of sand in an entire shore of beach.

This is for the ones who stand
For the ones who think they can
For the ones who need a hand
For the ones who try again

This is the remembrance of my goals. I wake each day to rediscover how much I have to give to the world. How much capacity I have within me to make it a better place than I found it.

worthyI’ve been hard at work on a project I will unveil to you this week, along with the premise of why I’ve been working on it so fervently. But for now, I want to look at the way I’ve experienced my own work.

I know I will succeed. I know that because I simply have no other option. Even so, the big huge shadow of insecurity grips me tightly. I stood in front of the mirror last night and had a heart to heart with myself. I know I’ve shared this quote before, but this is essentially what I said to myself and it’s pretty damned important.

Screenshot (511)

I’m alive. I’m fighting. And I will always keep fighting. I take things personally, I emote-with exceptional capability. I’m human. But in the end, the world is always going to say that I am not enough. That I am not right, not perfect, not this or that. It shouldn’t affect me at all. But it does. And that’s alright. What bothers me is that at some point I was taught that I should say those things to myself as well. I mean, holy crap what even is that?

I had to take time out of my day, right before I went to bed just to reassure myself that I was enough. That I was worthy of love, of respect, of everything I’ve worked towards. I had to look myself in the eyes and remind myself that I am enough of a person to live an unapologetic life. I am worthy of acceptance, of happiness, even when I cannot see that for myself. I am a human being and I am enough to make a difference. I am enough.

ImproveSelfEsteem_thumb

Those words shouldn’t need to be spoken in a whisper through tears. They should be standard issue. Instead, it’s an uphill battle against society. Your worth is determined by numbers on a scale, numbers in your bank account, numbers of followers and likes and retweets. Your worth is determined by people who don’t even know you, your struggle, your thoughts and heart. You are judged before you even leave the womb and you have to fight to claim your worth beyond selfies and eating disorders and lies.

I first felt that pressure when I was in fifth grade and hadn’t started shaving my legs yet. I was 10 and I got made fun of. Then I remember being told that I’d be worth dating if I were 20 pounds lighter. Then I made the joke that you could see my ribs, so I knew I was on the right path. I was 13. Then I couldn’t understand why I hated myself and my arms will forever remain an invisible zebra. I was 14. I thought I would be better off dead. I was 15. I turned to energy drinks as a way to fight off the nightmares and in the process I damaged my kidneys (to the point of shutting down). I was 18.

I’m twenty three. I’ve been fighting with myself for over a decade. HALF OF MY LIFE I have hated the person staring at me from the mirror. I can’t say that it’s been a perfect year, but I think it’s important to look at the path I took to get here. I’m fighting my hardest. And each day comes and goes in waves. I’m just swimming about, keeping my head above water. And I think there’s something beautiful about that.

I-Am-Enough.jpgAnyway, You’re probably wondering what it is that I’m even saying today. The Campbell’s soup (condensed) version? I didn’t want to write a post about my problems but I saw a video of an interview with Jared Padalecki who said the words “I didn’t want to talk about my sadness because I thought it would make everyone else worse. Instead, I found solidarity.” ( I paraphrased.)

So if you’re struggling today, I’m in that ocean with you. And we’ll make it out alive, we just have to keep fighting.

therapist_owl_poster.jpg

Fix You

There’s a gaping hole of hatred and bigotry in the world. Not too many people are safe these days. Muslim places of worship are attacked just the same as Christian places of worship. Booming cities in Europe and America are attacked just the same as cities in the Middle East. SAGA (sexuality and gender acceptance) individuals are gunned down just the same as people of color. Death, injustice, hatred, persecution. It fills the news, it divides, it destroys.

There are people who spew anger so fiercely that it is as a volcano, the devastation follows wherever they go. They speak of things they do not understand, promoting actions which will do nothing more than hurt people, damage humanity and suffocate the truth values of being human. They rile the masses, using catch phrases and soundbites to make their claims validated, evoking the misplaced anger many feel but do not know where to direct.

The thing about evil is that it will continue to spread if good people stand idly by. It isn’t the failed attempts which bring death-it is the lack of trying altogether.

There are people who sit in their pews, their prayer rooms, their offices and homes uttering phrases like “my heart goes out to you” and “I’ll pray for you” and “a moment of silence”. But when that is all that happens, nothing changes. Evil does not need riots and violence-it needs apathy. Prayers and thoughts and well-wishes cannot be the only thing that happens. It will change nothing. It doesn’t matter who hears you or how powerful they are. If you stand by with your thoughts, you are giving the terrible injustices of the world your permission to carry on.

I invite you all to take a chance. Go out and do something. You don’t have to conquer the world. You don’t even need to fix every problem. But each small action is a stance against what is wrong. And that is the real meaning of life.

Return of the Well, Me.

Alrighty. I’ve been hard at work determining my life and reevaluating my choices. I’ve been working on a project proposal which might blow people’s minds and I’m so close. I’m so close to living the life I couldn’t have imagine when I was in high school. I’m so close to living the life that I doubted I’d ever lead when I entered college. And I have something to say. (But when don’t I?)

Ahem.Here goes.

“So. I am enough. And you are enough. And I wanted to really stress that. Sometimes even though I, I know I can keep fighting and I know I’m trying to love myself, it’s sometimes the feeling that you feel like you’re not enough, right? And so this message is helping me kind of understand that I am enough-just the way I was made. I’m trying to be the best person I can be. And you’re enough too. So I know sometimes you feel like you can’t fight, and I know sometimes you feel like you just can’t love yourself and when that happens I want you to remember that you’re enough. You’re enough as you are. And I’ll try to remember that I’m enough as I am.”

-Jared Padalecki, 20 June 2016

I am enough

(This is the shirt for his campaign-the proceeds go to OneOrlando and Equality Florida’s Pulse Victim Fund–straight to the people who need it most right now. Buy here: I Am Enough Campaign) I listened to that man speak those words probably fifteen times as I watched the video, trying to make sure I got every word right. (And then I watch it because I love it.) Because the message is more important than I think nearly anything else is. It doesn’t matter what religion (if any!) you partake in, your status in life, your geography, anything. These words are just right. (If you wanna watch the clip, I posted it on my tumblr: I Am Enough Mantra)

I’m a huge fan of Supernatural for more reasons than just the great writing and acting. Mr. Collins, Mr. Ackles and Mr. Padalecki are such fantastic role models (as well as many of the female costars) and they each have ties to the mental health struggles (social anxiety, depression and self-harm amongst them). This speech was given as part of a live stream on Facebook  and before I get away with myself, let me just say it is one of my aspirations to work with someone like him (and them) in the future.

I am enough.

Those words don’t get passed around enough. Especially to ourselves. I told my husband last night that I think two things each and every day.

  1. How am I possibly good enough to live the life I have planned?
  2. I got this. Let’s kick some ass.

And you know what? That’s not because of self-esteem. The second thought is a lifestyle choice. I have to tell it to myself because I sometimes forget. I don’t have to be the one who changes the world each day. I just have to try. I am enough.

I made a difference to that one.

And so, even though I haven’t started it *yet*, I wanted to let you all know that I’m going to start a YouTube channel about body positivity, body safety and empowerment. It’s going to be like a companion to this blog. This is where all my personal articles of news will occur, but if you want to see my sparkly teeth and sassy attitude in “person”, then look no further!

My Letter to the Stanford Victim

Hi there,

I know we don’t know each other, and we may never meet, but I love you. I don’t mean that in the creepy way, but in the way with which I openly love my closest friends, my dearest family and with all the respect I can have for a person. Your struggle has been highly publicized, your words have been spoken with great emotion and while you fight to exist each day, I want you to know that I support you.

While my own efforts are small compared to the bravery and strength you have shown over the past year or so, I want you to know that I signed the petition to recall the judge from your case. No one, man or woman, should be forced to endure the tragedy of sexual assault, go through the system fearlessly and then come out the other end feeling violated by both the perpetrator and the system which is in place to protect and defend.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that your time with your sister will be forever blotted out by the devastation which came from an entitled child with no moral compass-who took your time, your privacy and the intimate parts of you and laid them bare for the world to scrutinize. I’m sorry that his academic merits and athleticism seem to be all anyone focuses on, and that while his lawyers tried to pry into your past, none of them looked into your future-like they did with him.

I listened to the reading of your statement, and I remember coming across the line: “You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.” And my heart broke for you. Because no one deserves to be made to feel worthless by the actions of someone else. I don’t know you at all, I’ve never seen you, I’ve never heard your voice, and yet I know that you are a beautiful person. You are so much more than this situation would impress upon you, so much more than a six-month verdict and I’m glad that the jury thought so too.

I hope that you find some peace, hope and a little rest. No matter what anyone else labels you, I think you’re a true heroine. You keep fighting, even when it gets tough and you don’t give up. That makes you the most courageous person I can think of. I hope you find great joy in the small moments in life, and that you get to meet those bicyclists who became your first line of defense.

All my admiration,

A 23 Year Old Woman

The Grey Areas of Going Dark

(I’ve literally JUST submitted this to The Mighty, so we’ll see if it gets accepted. In the mean time, here’s my thoughts on the depressive spectrum of suicidal ideation.)

There’s never once been a time when I have looked myself in the mirror and said the
five words that seem to adhere themselves to a mental illness diagnosis: “I
want to kill myself.” Not when I had my first psychotic break (or my second),
not when I reached the lowest part of my depression. And yet, if you asked me
if I had ever attempted suicide, my answer would be yes. Had I ever thought
about it? Yes again. But not once had I ever thought those five words.

One of the first lessons someone with a mental illness diagnosis learns is that
there are often no black-and-white situations. The line between correct
diagnosis and misdiagnosis isn’t a mile wide, it’s a hair’s width. We learn to
see things on a spectrum, on a scale. And yet, in this most prevalent of litmus
tests for depression, these five words seem to be a yes or no, black or white
area.

I’m here to disagree. Vehemently.

All too often, there isn’t a life versus death attitude that accompanies mental
illness. It’s much more layered, a muddled grey than it is a color dichotomy.
There’s often more desperation and anguish in the expression than the pointed
action of “I want to kill myself.” And what’s worse, the other phrases, which
carry just as much weight and sincerity as that one, aren’t even given a second
glance. They’re completely brushed off and put aside because, after all, everyone feels like that at some point,
right?

 

“I don’t want to live anymore.”

 

This sentence, much like the litmus
tester, is one I’ve never spoken aloud, but I can remember a few times when I mentally
said it to myself in the mirror, the tears running down my cheeks. It was the
point where the depression took over and I’d had enough. What I was really
saying was that I don’t want to live a life where I’m constantly feeling used
up, depressed and frustrated.

 

“I just want to sleep and not wake up.”
Life presents itself with some
fierce challenges sometimes. Fighting a battle against yourself is a long,
tiresome journey of epic proportions. Being able to rest for just a few moments
seems like the most luxurious perfection and it can feel like after years of
fighting yourself, you have earned a permanent reprieve. This is my own
personal indicator of depression, because what I’m really saying is that I’m
tired of constantly fighting a battle that no one even knows I’m in and I need
a break.

 


“I want to cease to be. Like I never existed.”

This phrase often comes close to
“rock bottom” when I’m clinging on to the walls of hope and love with bloody
knuckles, waiting for someone to throw me a metaphorical rope. I feel like the
one to blame for everything that’s wrong. If I were better, different, gone,
life would be better for everyone and everything. What I really mean is that I’m
tired of watching everything fall apart and feeling like it’s all my fault. I
want the pain to cease, not my life.

 


“I just want it all to stop.”

Variations of this one seem to be
spoken to the friends or family who got a little too close when I’m emotionally
vulnerable. I don’t want them to worry about me or involve themselves
unnecessarily, but I want them to understand that I’m in pain. I feel
overwhelmed by life: the things that have happened, will happen and are
happening. What I’m really saying is that I need life to pause without
consequences so I can take a deep breath, pull myself together and invest in
some serious self-care.

 


“I can’t do this anymore.”

This one is the rock bottom, end of the line sentence that creeps up at the worst
moments of my battle with depression. There’s no hidden meaning here, it’s very
much self-explanatory. At my very lowest point, this was
the phrase that played on repeat in my head. At that moment, I couldn’t exist
as I was, I couldn’t live the life I had. My last words on earth would have
been these five, because they were the ones that matched the heartache. I
didn’t want to die, but I could no longer live.

 
In the end, not everyone experiences depression or suicidal tendencies in the same
way. But no matter what you mean or what phrase you use, the implications are
real. Being stuck in the grey areas of suicidal thoughts is no less painful,
and yet it’s much less talked about, making it that much more dangerous. There
isn’t just one way to live, and there isn’t just one way to cry out for help.

10 Things Bipolar People DON’T Want You To Know

I can’t count the number of articles I’ve come across with the title # Things Bipolar People Want/Wish You Knew or the List Of Things People With Mental Illnesses Wish People Understood. And for the most part, they’re pretty spot on. But I want to come at it from a different angle. I’ve done my best to keep it pretty similar in format, but if you feel I got something wrong, or missed a key point, drop me a comment! (Images thanks to Google-I own nothing.)

  1. We’re scared of our symptoms too.

bp2There’s nothing quite like the dive between (hypo)mania and depression when you feel like you can see the world crumbling around you. Or the emptiness that makes you feel like a dead (wo)man walking-no cares, no love, nothing. Or the darkest parts of depression when it hurts to cry because you’re trying not to wake anyone, so you silent sob but then you realize you aren’t breathing either and your chest is on fire, but it also feels like you’ve got a ton of bricks on top of you. You wonder if it’s possible to be so sad that you die from it. You walk around with the stress of what could happen if you have a manic episode. The way you lock up your credit cards, carry around only a limited amount of cash because you know you can’t stop yourself from spending everything you have. The way you stay home because you know you’re bound to get into a bad situation because you’ve been manic for a few days and now you’re bored. No matter how “together” we feel we’ve got it, there are days when we are genuinely concerned that

2. We’ve given up hope for ourselves more than you

We know that sometimes we’re a hot mess. Hearing you say “I’m done.” when we have a bad day (or too many in a row), or watching you go for a drive because you “can’t handle” us at the moment just reminds us that we’re alone. And as many times as you’ve grown tired of us, we’ve done that twice as much with ourselves. bp7 If we trust you enough to open up, it’s because we know that we’re eventually going to fail ourselves and we need you to pick up the pieces. It’s not fair of us to smother you in our problems, but if we could figure out how to not make them problems, or how to deal with them on our own, we wouldn’t need help so much. In the end, when the words “I suck” are said, it’s our inner demons speaking and we need you to tell us why we shouldn’t believe them again.

3. We genuinely don’t need a reason to be upset (in any mood) and it makes us trust you less when you yell at us that we DO need a reason.

If we knew why we felt the way we did, we could fix it. We have a mood disorder, not an analysis-of-the-situation disorder. If we’re showing you we have a problem, don’t force us to talk about it before we’re ready. It just makes it worse and we’ll lie about why we’re upset because we just want you to be happy that there is a reason-even if there isn’t. If we have to lie to you, then we don’t respect you as much, because we already fell like we’re lying to ourselves. And lying to anyone else is just a repeat of what we’ve wanted to get away from.

bp8

4. We feel like actors. A Lot. And no, we don’t want to “remove our mask”.

bp1Feeling (hypo)manic? Better find a reason for being able to put in all the extra work, being extra chatty, being extra social. Feeling depressed? Better find a reason to feel sad. Or, better find a way to hide it behind the words “tired”, “sick”, and “allergies”. No one think to question the high-functioning worker or student, especially if it’s peak work time-end of the year sales, there’s a special on at work, it’s final’s season. We blame it on too much caffeine, the hyper form of exhaustion, being really excited for a goal or even wanting to get something done so that you can do something else (the key “give aways” here are goal orientation and chaos). Everyone avoids the depressed, especially if it’s the grey-faced, bags-under-the-eyes, slow-as-molasses individuals who seem to act like that for days. Everyone asks about the first day- “what’s wrong”, “need anything” and so on. But even the answers to those are lies. “Just tired”, “stressed”, “coming down with something”. It’s easier to just go on with the lies than it is to explain everything to every person. Because inevitably we’ll get the “avoidance” treatment ALL the time.

5. Looking at other, more successful people with Bipolar Disorder makes us feel like a disaster.

It is both a blessing and a curse to see the people who have come before (or are presently) and were (are) successful AND bipolar. Van Gogh. Lovato. Van Damme. Cobain. Churchill. Nightingale. Sinatra.Woolf. Artists, Singers, Actors, Leaders and more have graced history with their talents and their diagnoses, some of them succumbing to their disorders, some becoming great advocates. bp6 Not everyone with Bipolar Disorder is going to go on and be famous and we KNOW that. But it hurts quite a lot that some of the people who were most successful at their craft had it and we share a condition and aren’t sharing in the capabilities. It’s easy for us to start a painting or sculpture, musical instrument, novel, poem, whatever and then destroy it because we listen to the voice that says “you’ll never get noticed.” While we’re happy for the successful people with bipolar disorder, we want to be like them too and that usually doesn’t happen.

6. We’re absolutely normal-just in a more spectacular capacity.

successsWhether we want to admit it or not, we’re completely normal. We eat, drink, breathe and exist the same as anyone else. But we do so in a broader spectrum. We experience great sorrow at the loss of a friend, or freedom, or innocence. We experience great anger at perceived injustices, at inequality. We experience pure joy at the birth of our best friend’s first child, at the sight of a rainbow or a thunderstorm, at the realization that we succeeded at a task we’d never tried before. Where other people may feel confused, we feel it more. Where others may feel concern, we feel the weight of the world. It’s not about the Hollywood stereotype of the best-friend-turned-serial-killer. We have jobs that we fight desperately to keep, we have friends and families and we go to school. Just the same as any body else. We just live it more.

7. We become specialists in our diagnoses and we don’t appreciate being compared to your “crazy aunt” or your “moody neighbor”.

It’s nice when people have had genuine contact or a relationship with someone who actually had bipolar disorder. It’s nice to know that if you have an episode, you can talk to them and they can help you through it. It isn’t AT ALL nice when people pretend they understand. We aren’t like your “crazy aunt” who threw your uncle’s things out of the house because he broke her favorite plate. And we aren’t like your “moody neighbor” who doesn’t smile when you say good morning and cackles over his cup of black coffee at a kid who falls off their bike. We just experience life in a deeper spectrum (see number 6). bp4 And while we’re on the topic, STOP calling the weather bipolar. That’s offensive to the people who actually have bipolar and that’s altogether not hilarious. We get it, you have problems with the weather. Bipolar disorder has the capacity to destroy our lives. Pack a sweater and an umbrella. You’ll be fine.

8. We could write a dissertation on suicide and the types of suicidal tendencies.

bp9Everyone, just about, is familiar with the concept of suicide, and there may even be people who have experience with it on a more personal basis. A person with bipolar is exceptionally likely to thought about, if not tried suicide. But there’s more to it than being depressed and then dying. There’s plenty more motives than people want to discuss. And then there are the latent forms of suicidal tendencies. Because most people are familiar with the “I don’t want to live anymore” version. Not as many people think about the “I want to sleep and not wake up” kind or the “I wish I could just cease to be” kinds. We could write novels about this subject in particular and probably come pretty close to making it the encyclopedia of suicidal tendencies and things you never thought to associate with them.

9. We go between being really proud of who we are and feeling like a giant mistake

bp3.jpgWe know it’s a hassle. But some days we wake up feeling like we run the world. And those days are so few and far between that we run with them in the farthest possible manner. Because soon enough, we know there will come a day when we just can’t seem to do anything right. It isn’t that the days when we feel epic are the truth and the other days are lies. It’s more fluid, more layered than that. We are experts at living in all the times (past, present and future). So when we say “We rock” it is at that moment, we feel we have reached a milestone of success which can be seen at that moment. When we say “we suck” it is because at that moment all we can see are the failures. It doesn’t mean we’re completely failures or completely successes, it’s just what looks more prevalent at that particular moment.

10. We don’t know how to live our lives.

The sentence that seems to pop up the most lately is that of “adulting is hard”. There are even renditions which say “I’m done adulting. If you want me, I’ll be in my pillow fort with my coloring book.” At some point, we have come to realize that we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing. We can find things which help us manage our symptoms safely and in a positive way. We can avoid triggers. We can accept only what we can reasonably handle. But in the end, we don’t know what we’re doing. There is no manual for living with bipolar disorder. And even if there was, not everyone is the same, so it might not work for us. Funnily enough though, not too many people (with AND without the diagnosis) know how to live their lives. Turns out, people with bipolar disorder just might be the firs tot admit the way that everyone is feeling. No one knows what’s going on. And that’s part of the fun.

bp5.jpg

Unconventional Letter

Dear Michelle,

Thank you.

Thank you for never giving up. And I know there were times you thought you had to, that there was no other choice. I remember all those nights spent alone, crying in the bathroom, hoping to end your pain with a razor blade. I remember the long days spent not eating, drinking only a cup of coffee in the morning because you felt like you might fall asleep in the middle of calculus if not, then rushing home to see if you’d lost more weight. I remember all of this, but most of all I remember how even though there were times you wanted to, you didn’t choose to die and instead, you chose to live.

Thank you for learning to open up again. After you graduated from high school, you tried to close yourself off, masking your feelings with words like “exhausted”, “the flu” and “allergies”. You kept everyone at arm’s length until you couldn’t take it anymore and you decided to make friends. I know that was hard for you, but I promise it’s paid off.  You’re about to find out that you actually love coffee dates with friends and trying new things.

Thank you for going off meds-even at the disapproval of your then boyfriend. He didn’t know you, you didn’t stay with him, and you really had to choose your own life for your own reasons. I know at that point, you didn’t even understand fully your diagnosis. I’m so proud of you for making your own way. I know in the future you’ll contemplate going back on medicine, and it’ll be hard, but if you don’t want to do something, don’t let the fear of consequences force you to make a decision.

Thank you card

Thank you for walking away from the poisonous relationships you tried so hard to save. You thought that if you just tried harder, loved more deeply, that you could fix them. But they weren’t the ones who needed fixing, and abusive relationships aren’t worth your time. Or effort. I’m so sorry you had to learn that the hard way. But you got past it with some ice cream and art. That was the first time you thought that you might be okay with being alone instead of being with someone who told you that you were always to blame, and that everything he did was to show you that you deserved no one better. You may have been brokenhearted, and it felt like your whole world was dying, but you left. You’re so brave.

Speaking of bravery, there will come a time in your life that you’ll wake up and be paralyzed with the fear of driving. We’ll work through it, and it will be hard for a long time, but please don’t give up. Living in the past, living with the memories of what “could have” happened is only going to hurt us in the long run. Yeah, this is one of those corny “hello, younger me” letters that we swore we’d never write, but I have so many things to thank you for.

Thanks for taking a chance and going out with that boy from high school that you thought was “too short”. You’ll drive each other crazy, but you have a strong marriage, and a lot of really hilarious dating stories that will get you through any disagreements you might have. You even got a dog (he acts more like a cat, and you’ll learn to love him). That boy will learn how to understand your moods, and even help you get through them.

Thank you for working so hard during your mood swings. No one requests to have bipolar disorder, but you’ve done remarkable things with it. You laid the foundation for such great things to happen for your future. But don’t think for a minute that it’s shameful to change your major when you get to college. It’s gonna drive you mad and you’ll feel so completely used up, but you’ll see that the greatest thing is going to happen once you walk through all the open doors. You’ll continue to struggle with food, but honestly, you’re going to love yourself more at the heaviest weight than you ever did when you struggled with your eating disorders. Just don’t go too far in the other direction, okay? Eating too much is bad too. Food isn’t a drug, it’s not meant to protect you from life.

I know that you know life is hard. But thanks for going back into counseling. In hindsight, you probably didn’t have to hide it, because you’re about to become exceptionally vocal about mental health and women’s rights. You aren’t stuck, you aren’t defective, and you most definitely aren’t finished. We have so much work ahead of us, and it’s all thanks to you.

You stuck it out when the world grew dark, when our mind waged wars against us and our heart got so heavy it might burst. You fought each and every day for life to be better, waiting for the day it all meant something. You kept going, even when everything screamed at you to just stop. I know my battles, our battles, don’t end with this little note. We have a whole life to live yet! And I know I didn’t say it then, but I’m saying it now. Thank you, baby girl. Thank you with my whole heart.

You got this, Shells. You don’t need anybody else’s approval, just go for it. You’re about to take your first step in an amazing adventure and you’ll be so surprised where it leads you. I know I am.

The sun will rise again, and so will you.

All my love,

M.

Walk Away

There are days which comes at me a little more harshly than others. I feel like although this could probably be glanced over, maybe it’s still important to get it out in the open. Who knows, maybe someone else will have a similar story.

In three days, I will have been married to my husband for two years. In those two years, we have grown as a couple in ways that I didn’t think we could. We now can anticipate each other: he moves, I move. We know each other’s schedules-not just for day to day life, but days that are hard, moods, all of it. It’s really nice sometimes, sometimes it’s really annoying. (Sometimes I just want to be mad by myself, you know?) But anyway, it isn’t that that bothers me. I love being able to say I am married. And watching people look with their disapproving little heads at us. So many people thought we’d made a mistake getting married young, but we’re stronger now than we were, and we’ve now seen each other at our worst. He and I believe that you should work on a marriage every day, and that having each other is a gift to treasure, not a safety net for convenience.

Around this time, a lot of my Facebook friends have also gotten married. I smile at each and every one of them, hoping they have a good life, a life full of love and happiness. I was invited to several of their weddings, but somehow never managed to make it any.I have a very real issue with new places, new people and large quantities of them. That makes me exceptionally frustrated when I receive an invitation and in a mania state say “yes, I will be attending” and then find the day of the affair that I’m mid depression, full of social anxiety and unable to get dressed in “street clothes” let alone make my way to a glorious event. I’m not making excuses, I’m just highlighting an issue I wish wasn’t an issue.

But there’s something else, which creeps into my heart and creates an emotional disease. When I got married, Ben was in a suit, I was in a cream colored dress from Victoria’s Secret.

crochet (It was this one, as a matter of fact. No, this isn’t me.)

Ben and I were married in a classroom at our college, by one of Ben’s Political Science professors. It was an intimate ceremony, my parents, his dad, his best friend and his best friend’s parents, my siblings and maybe a straggler or two from the university.

I’ll tell the full story on our actual anniversary, because that’s a really epic story, but here’s the part that makes me sad. The professor brought his guitar and played us a song-our first song as a married couple. It was Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)”. I actually liked that song before, and knew the lyrics ahead of time.

“So take the photographs and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it’s worth, it was worth all the while”

We came back from our weekend away and waited for pictures. We hadn’t hired a photographer, we just asked everyone there to take some. My mother took a video recording (so she and my father are exempt from this).

Every picture was blurred.

I know it sounds trivial. I know. And I’ve gone back and forth for these last two years about how silly I sound. But I have no pictures from my wedding. They all are shaky, blurred images of my backside, of the professor, of the group of people who were there. I have the blurry images, and trust me, they were blurrier as I cried about it.

So I look at Facebook, and all of my friends who got married and the weddings I couldn’t attend. I look at their pictures, the photos they will have forever. And I can’t help but get a little gloomy. I hope they all have the best lives they possibly could. But I also wish that I too had photos to share.

As I listen to that song each anniversary, I can’t help but be reminded of the lines I quoted here. I am left with the memories in my head. And my brain isn’t the most reliable of things, let’s be honest.

jealous

I told Ben that I was upset because when I am old and don’t remember who I am anymore, I will have nothing to show for our wedding day. That’s certainly half of it. But it’s more than that. I also feel incredibly jealous that although I know and he knows that we got married, I have nothing to share with my friends. I can’t show them how happy we looked, our very first moments as a married couple, nothing. And they can all show me.

So I made it my mission to take as many pictures as I could from then on out. I’m working to save up more money for my anniversary tattoo, and I’m going to make sure that although I have no pictures of my first moments as Mrs., I will have enough proof to show that it wasn’t short lived.

(And for those of you interested in the video, there isn’t any audio, and it’s only the back of our heads.)

 

May the Fourth…Be With You

Even with the current political climate, I will continue to blog about women’s issues, human rights and mental health. (I may do an expose about political climates, but at a later time.)

I recently commented (on Facebook) on a local news station’s announcement of the discussion of banning non-essential traffic from Ohio to North Carolina, because of the “bathroom bill”. Me being me, I had to comment-I love human rights issues (because they are opportunities to expand my awareness and activism). Here’s what I expected going in, and what I hoped for:

trans equal

Expect: People to disagree, challenge my views.

Hope: I could change someone’s mind.

What I didn’t expect was the vicious content that would ensue. I will retype here what I typed there, and then tell you about the responses.

The thing is, rapists and sexual predators have been coming after women and children for years, decades and no one has bothered to put up this amount of riotous behavior. It isn’t about bathrooms, just as it has never been. It is about the average person not understanding that which they fear. If it was their children, their siblings, who were transgender or transsexual, then perhaps the tides would change towards equality. However, with all this being said, I am incredibly proud to call Ohio my home, and Columbus my city. It is incredibly easy to cry foul play when you feel like your rights are being infringed upon, but the reality of the situation is that the rights of the cis- have always been safe. It is now up to the minorities, those who have not had access to the same rights, to rise up and cry out as loudly as they can. Freedom isn’t free, and equality isn’t universal. Yet. But with a little understanding, a little empathy and some patience, perhaps we, as the American people (and Ohioans!) can usher in a new era of acceptance, love and humility-putting aside the fear mongering, the hatred and the ignorance. Thank you, Columbus City Council. May love prevail!

Now, yes. It does sound like a naive college student with liberal ideas wrote that. You’d be reading that same view point in all of my blogs. However, what I said was (in my mind) respectful, and reflected my true feelings. I didn’t name call, I didn’t stoop to low levels, I tried to remain calm in a conversation topic where tempers run rampant.

Some of the responses included (I copied and pasted-so any misspellings or poor grammar are as they were written by the original posters):

“What love? U certainly show none”

“Jared fogel and friends loves and thanks u”

“Pedophiles or rapist to pretend their transgender to exploit it. If you don’t think they will do that you need to take off your love cures all blinders right now. They are liars, manipulates and they will do anything to fulfill their sexual desires.”

“Where does this end, at what point do pedophiles get granted their rights.”

“Seriously, I think it’s just another card to pull, I have a male friend who is gay, he always says, if they talk to me like that, I’ll pull the gay card, if I get fired I’ll pull the gay card, that’s all I hear… Where the hell is the straight card? It’s all about control and money…”

“Play every last PC Card like a typical liberal. Call common sense “fear mongering” to try’n get your way. Grow a pair while your at it.”

Now, at this point I have to mention that my comment to the last one was (It’s my favorite comment):

And if I did, in fact, “grow a pair”, NAME DELETED, would that allow me to use the rest room in peace? My career is in human rights, so you’ll forgive me if I continue promoting equality instead of pulling America backwards.

I have been called a murderer because of my stance on abortions, I have been called all the usual things that men call women who are strong and opinionated. I have struggled with my identity and ideas in light of these things, and I have to say, I believe I have come out of this ordeal (and others) a stronger, more sure person.

equal

I was asked if I believed that someone would willingly submit themselves to a future if they weren’t even part of the group. I had, at that point, answered that although I consider myself bisexual, I had played the part of “lesbian girlfriend” for several of my friends who were in a situation that merited my actions. So when I think of that question now, and try to apply it to this topic, I can only be reaffirmed by my ideas before.

I know I’m a very passionate, outspoken, opinionated individual. I know that I do my best to listen to other people’s ideas, and that I try to be respectful at all times. I also know that I have to stand up for what I believe is right. That’s what it means to truly live. And so I will not be hurt by the people calling me names, or making suggestions about the way I live my life. I will continue to fight for justice, as long as I live.

I don’t think that all Americans believe this way. I don’t even think it’s a majority of them. But what I do think, is that there are a large portion of people who have opinions about this and other issues who choose to remain silent. I can’t remain silent while my friends, old acquaintances, family members, find themselves fearing for their basic rights. I have plans, I have hopes and dreams, and because I ally myself this way, because I belong to several minorities (which will be a blog post on its own), I may be forced into some tight spots. But I choose to believe that justice and love with shine through, and I will not remain silent.