A Little Perspective

This week has been hell, folks.

I’m talking the worst, most stressful week of my life. Every day was a new shit show, with another round of “What in the world is going on?”

But in times of great stress and trials, I’ve discovered my corrective nature.

Each day I woke up wondering what other shoe would drop, each night I went to bed defeated.

Until.

I woke up and made fresh coffee, some espresso with creamer and instead of drinking the whole thing down, I poured some into the cup I use for ancestor offerings. I begged for safety and happiness and success.

The next day, I did the same with drip-pot coffee, black. Then hot tea.

I remembered what Brene Brown said in her Netflix special: If you’re in the arena, you’re going to get your ass kicked.

I thought about all the things I learned as an MSW student. All the things I learned about how to deal with crises. About life. And I started putting those to use. Breathing techniques, meditations, anxiety work. I worked the program, my friends. I learned to trust and accept and validate my emotions, without letting them beat me down. I let myself cry, and worked through it. I gave myself room to be.

I went to supervision and reframed my situation. How lucky am I that I have options to stress over. To have the knowledge about what to do. To only experience one week of crisis-as opposed to one lifetime.

And I stopped waiting for the shoes to fall. I stopped expecting the world to crumble around me.

Instead, I gave myself permission to be human. I asked for help, I apologized for slacking in a spiritual way. I hoped for better things. I focused on finding the balance between the negative and positive, the dark and the light. And while I tried to allow myself to thrive, I found I wasn’t as preoccupied with the stressful terrors that plagued my days.

Slowly-and we’re talking snail pace-I reframed my experience to create a more objective picture. I let my reactions be reactions-not reality. I let go. I learned how to exist in the stress, to fight in the arena.

And yes, I got my ass kicked. But sometimes the lesson you need to learn has to come when you have been stripped of all your reservations.

I can’t neglect parts of myself just because I think I know better. Putting coffee out for the ancestors and the spirits in the good times is great, but brushing them off in the bad times is arrogant. Make space and time for your spirituality, your mental well-being. Make space for your emotions. Make space for yourself. You deserve to live your life. And that life may be hard at times. But you can make it through. You have to step back and believe. Then get back in the arena and keep fighting.

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Communication

Past me had a very smart idea, that I think I need to keep coming back to.

I know a bunch of people believe that Mercury Retrograde is a bunch of hooey, and that’s fine. This post is for me. I don’t think of it as a cosmic scapegoat that you can blame when you’re being less than optimal. I view it as light shining through the cracks in your life, in the various aspects that need work.

For me, this has been communication (as is rightly so) but communication with not only other people, but myself as well.

Lately my life has played out like the theme song from FRIENDS:

So no one told you life was gonna be this way.
Your job’s a joke, you’re broke,
Your love life’s DOA.
It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear.
When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month
Or even your year…

I keep circling back tot he negative. The things that don’t work, won’t work, can’t seem to go right. And I think that’s super human to be that way sometimes. You can only see so far into the tunnel and you have to keep trying to move forward even when that’s the last thing you want to do.

I made a decision that has long term consequences this week. I was miserable-the kind that comes from pushing way beyond what you can handle. Every little stressor was getting to me, every moment too much to handle. By the time I’d had my third panic attack of the week, I knew I was in over my head. So I looked at my arm, where my tattoo waits faithfully and I made a choice.

I wish for this.

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It wasn’t something I could say honestly at the time and I promised myself that I would make changes when I couldn’t say it and mean it. So I did. I got out of the crappy situation. I chose my health and happiness over everything else.

Because sometimes self-care feels like the most selfish thing you can do-but you need to do it anyway.

So I’m back to the beginning. I’m ready to try a new path. I know I will be facing a lot of uphill battles, but that’s okay.

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“It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not weakness. That is life.” -Captain Picard, Star Trek The Next Generation

This quote came back into my life recently and I’ve relied on it as much as I have my tattoo. Because this life, it’s not fair. It’s not something that you reach a level of “better” and everything works out, smooth and good. It’s messy. It’s painful. It’s confusing and frustrating and beautiful and glorious. But you only get this one life.

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So my challenge to the world, to myself, this week (and beyond) is to find the thing that makes you unhappy: your job, your major, your self-care habits, your wardrobe, whatever it is. And make a change. Yes, it’s scary. It’s hard. It’s brutal sometimes. But this is life. And if you only get one, would you rather spend it miserable or would you rather take chances that makes you happier?

Stop What You’re Doing!

And go drink some water-you look a little dehydrated.

And since you’re here, I hope you’re having a rewarding Monday. I wanted to focus today on a little pesky subject that gets the best of us: burnout.

The newest title that millennials get to add to our giant repertoire is the “burnout generation”. I have to say, as someone who has experienced both being a millennial and burnout, this rings especially true.

So what is burnout?

Well, it’s the way you can go to a job for months or years just fine and then wake up with extreme dread about going in. It’s the way little things didn’t bother you and now they’re all you can think about. It’s wanting to pack up and run away rather than face one more day of your life. It’s that cynical depression that makes you furious that it’s even happening in the first place.

Burnout.

According to psychology, burnout can be traced to helplessness and the feeling of being unable to control your environment. A person experiencing burnout may have problems figuring out what to do with their life, may switch jobs more frequently than is industry standard and may have some major health concerns related to burnout (not just psychological ones). Psychology Today mentions that therapy and meds may just erase the symptoms, instead of dealing with the burnout itself.

Ways to fight it are the same things that have been harped on since the beginning of time: sleep more, workout, eat right, self-care. But what if that only post-pones the feelings of existential dread?

Then you wouldn’t be alone.

There’s a Buzzfeed article that talks about what burnout looks like for millennials in more than just a job capacity. It talks about errand paralysis-putting the same to-do list on your calendar (or bullet journal) week after week because you can’t seem to complete it or the inability to return clothes, to mail packages, to complete basic adulting tasks. In fact, the following quote came from the same article (and consequently hit me like a ton of bricks:

” But these students were convinced that their first job out of college would not only determine their career trajectory, but also their intrinsic value for the rest of their lives. I told one student, whose dozens of internship and fellowship applications yielded no results, that she should move somewhere fun, get any job, and figure out what interests her and what kind of work she doesn’t want to do — a suggestion that prompted wailing. “But what’ll I tell my parents?” she said. “I want a cool job I’m passionate about!” ” –https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/annehelenpetersen/millennials-burnout-generation-debt-work

I’m not going to lie to you, it’s a long article. But it’s also 100% worth the read. Because sometimes it’s nice to know you’re not alone. I’m not saying it’ll get better. I’m saying you don’t have to face it alone.

Experiencing burnout? Drop a comment!

I Suppose it’s That Time

It’s time to discuss the past year. Or more realistically, let’s call this blog the one where I discuss what happened this past year that made me not want to blog anymore. Because it’s a story worth telling. But in order to tell it, we’re going to have to back up. To last year.

Picture it: 2017, the world was growing accustomed to changes, and not all of them good. Little old me was graduating with a bachelors in cultural anthropology and I was headed to law school to complete a dual degree: a JD (law)/MSW (social work masters). That summer I threw myself into every money making scheme I could so that we could afford the move across 1000 (a little less, actually) miles of uncharted wilderness (well, America, really). I said goodbye to the people who had been there, for every hiccup and misstep in my life and trudged out in search of something new, in search of myself.

The first day of law school was postponed for the eclipse (which was overcast, so we didn’t actually get to see it). But surely, this was the sign I was waiting for…right?

2017 Eclipse photo, from Google

Day one: the theme of the day should have been “You will probably want to kill yourself more than once, and we know that. It’s a sign you’re in law school. You’ll probably also develop a severe drinking problem. Also totally expected.” That’s honestly all I remember from the first day. And that should have been a sign in-and-of itself. But I trudged on.

Grades in law school aren’t like undergrad or most other post-bac programs. You aren’t graded on how well you understood the subject, but how well everyone else understood in comparison to you. Therefore, you could get a 98% on a test (you won’t) and normally, you’d see an “A” at the top. But in law school, if everyone else got a 99% or a 100% (they won’t), then you’ve failed the test. [Realistically, the highest score was a 35% and that’s an “A”).

So finals came around and I hit rough patch after rough patch (including taking a test so delirious from a food allergy that I was hallucinating) and grades came back. Talk about a hit to the ego. I took the break to reset from the havoc that was first semester and tried to throw myself into second semester. I did not go out, I did not engage in social activities. I stayed home and studied. I stayed at the school and studied. Every weekend (and I mean EVERY) you would find me, nose in a book, looking for nuggets of knowledge that I needed. I would get to class hours early to do more reading and prepping. And that continued for 16 weeks. I studied for finals 16-18 hours a day. For two weeks.

Stock photo showing person with head on a pile of books.

But by February, just six and a half months after the journey began, I no longer felt like myself. My major complaint (my presenting problem): I felt like a robot. No hobbies, no way to break myself away from the grueling gauntlet that was first year law school. No more being myself. Just torture. And that’s when I kept hoping that I would get hit by a bus. I wasn’t actively suicidal, I just wouldn’t have stopped it from happening. And as much as I knew that that was not okay, I just thought I wasn’t trying hard enough. So when second semester grades came in and I was placed on academic probation (for insufficient grades), the final straw broke.

All that hard work, only to be told “not good enough”. I received the notice on official letterhead that read more like “You should reconsider being a lawyer” than “you need to take these remedial classes”. I told myself that I would start my MSW in the fall and I just needed a break from law school. That was the first week of May.

June 13, I was on Snapchat with a law friend who asked if I’d talked to a 2L (second year) friend in a while. I said I had, and that she was excited about starting an animal law group. He told me to check my email. Sure enough, I had an email from the Dean, telling the school she’d died the night before. And as I read the obituary, I knew what words they weren’t saying. She’d died, but it wasn’t an accidental event.

Quote by Ashly Lorenzana

I wondered if I would be next. I wondered what separated me from her. I wondered if law school was worth it. And ultimately I decided, no. I looked at my tattoo, the compass in my life. I didn’t sign up for four years of pain and torture and hating myself. I kept telling myself that if there was some way I could prove that “it” was worth it, I would stay. But I deserve to be happy, to value life and to wake up to a life I wish for.

I was so nervous about starting a new program (because of my experience with law school) that on the first day, I made an appointment with the on-campus counselor. I was a wreck, a shell of a person. No coping tools worked, I’d burnt through them all trying to just survive. I’d lost my sense of self.

I put off telling my parents until I had made up my mind officially. I’d still harbored a hope that maybe with time, I could be more ambient towards the idea of coming back. But each time I walked into the law school and it made me sick to my stomach. I knew I wasn’t going to ever go back.

And I couldn’t bring myself to write, to be myself until I decided what it was that I even wanted out of life. I had to stop blogging because I didn’t know who I was, figuratively.

I’m starting 2019 clean. I’ve got goals, personal and professional, and I know that I’m still turning into who I will be, but it’s a better life than I would have had before.

The "SMART" method for goals.

In 2019, I’m

-getting to work with undocumented victims of domestic violence, sexual violence, human trafficking and stalking

-publishing my book

-getting to work in the emergency department of a hospital as a student clinical social worker

-taking care of myself, as a complex, multi-faceted human being

-living (and making steps towards) the life I wish for

And I hope, with all I have to hope, that you find the courage to be yourself, to be authentically you. That you make the hard decisions because you know that you’re not giving yourself the ability to grow and thrive. You deserve it. I promise.

New Age, Who Dis?

Good morning, darlings! 

In the event that you’re stopping by for the very first time, welcome! I’m Michelle, the permanently caffeinated administrator here, and I bid you a fond hello. If you’ve been around, my greeting is no less delighted, and I hope you’ve had a wonderful day. 

So. Being at peace with self. 

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Image Description: Mountainous sunrise with the quote from Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert: We don’t realize that, somewhere within us all, there does exist a supreme self who is eternally at peace. 

Let’s get real with something. We are not living up to our best potentials. We’re letting all of the “stuff” get in the way. Bills, financial emergencies, social expectations, family obligations, external pressure to have benchmarks of success. And they all have their moments of importance. But let me paint you a picture. 

You’re doing a budget and you realize you need to work some extra hours. You pick up some extra shifts but you lose even more sleep. You drink more caffeine to stay awake but you have to spend more on caffeine. And then, just when you think you’ve hit your stride, an emergency! And maybe it’s health related and you can’t work as much. Maybe it’s your car and now you have to get crafty with getting to work. Maybe it’s the sudden realization that you don’t…can’t…continue like this. 

And then you spiral into thinking about all the people you see on social media that look so put together, so focused and driven, so successful. About how you’re nothing like that and you’re barely holding on by the skin of your teeth. About how you don’t feel like anything you do is making a bit of difference. 

That’s what I’m talking about. And I would know, I’m right there with you. 

Yesterday was my birthday. I’m officially closer to 30 than any other ’10’ and it scared me. I don’t have my life together. I’m still in school. I’ve got student loans and bills and I work as much as I can and I’m exhausted. So why don’t I feel like I’m making progress? 

Well, that’s where the following list comes into play: 

  1. Face masks don’t heal broken hearts.
  2. Bath bombs don’t make your problems melt away. 
  3. Treating yourself to a coffee won’t make you invincible. 
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Image Description: Starfish underwater with the caption “Self-care: about more than bubble baths…”

And I’m sure that won’t surprise you. But you know that feeling when you’re having a bad day and you think “I’ll just go home and do a mask, watch some Hallmark Christmas movies and reset.” and then you think you’ll feel better BUT YOU DON’T? No? Just me? Okay then. 

Here’s what I’m saying: If you don’t make peace with yourself, with every flaw, with every part that you’re critical about-including how much you feel like a failure, even if you’re actually doing your best-then you’re not living up to your potential. 

And I’m talking to myself just as much as you. But we need to hold each other accountable. We’ve been giving in to band-aid solutions to major heart surgery. And that needs to stop. Give in. Cry. Rage. Scream. And then head up, buttercup. There’s work to do. 

But please, continue that scheduled maintenance! Do those face masks. Buy those bath bombs and that coffee. Because you need to take care of yourself along the way. Just treat the you on the inside just as kindly as you treat the you on the outside. 

What lesson are you bringing with you into the new year?

Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month 2018

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I wasn’t sure I wanted to write this blog, but the more I stewed on it, the more I was certain I needed to. I didn’t want to cause drama, or make people worry, and I certainly didn’t want to admit it to myself. But here goes.

In the course of law school, you are told on the first day that a majority of your year will end up as alcoholics or with depression, and maybe a few of you will even die from these. A bunch of cocky 1Ls will think “I’m a smart person, I’m sure that couldn’t be about me.” Some may even laugh about already belonging to those groups and being “ahead of that curve”.

In the course of life, each person may be called to face their own traumas-maybe even secondhand. And there is no weakness in not feeling like you’ve got a grip on it. It’s human to reach your depth and feel like you’re drowning. I think of a quote that a professor once told me on Suicide Prevention Day: “I won’t tell you that it gets better. But you don’t have to face it alone.”

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I lost a friend in June, the third friend I’ve lost to depression. I say “I” because these are only my thoughts-but truthfully, more than just “I” experience this loss. She was a friend from law school, and we were so alike that it just felt more personal. I want to talk about the four things I learned since then, and why they’re important.

  1. Shallow Self-Care Won’t Heal the Painful Wounds

When I first started the summer, I spent a lot of time doing things that I wanted to do-art, writing, tai chi, “spa days” and the like. I wanted a full emotional reset from my academic year and I picked my favorites from a list of suggestions. When I lost my friend, I wondered why those things didn’t help. Everything I wrote was empty, art felt more sad than healing and even my beloved face masks did nothing to fix the way I felt lost.

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As it would turn out, the only way to deal with those big emotional issues is the hard way. The late-night-crying-for-no-reason way. The grapple-with-big-questions-that-don’t-have-answers way. The look-in-the-mirror-and-just-feel way. As it would turn out, not one of my coping mechanisms tools was helpful in processing the loss of my friend. I had to reach the end of my shallow fixes to really understand that I needed to work on myself. That’s not to say that all those self-care things aren’t worth it. When I get stressed, I still engage in those beauty-creating moments. But when the hurt is deep, your self-care needs to be that much deeper.

2. Suicide Fear for People Who Understand (The “Will I Be Next” Debate)

If you have ever been suicidal, you may very well have experienced this. I wouldn’t say that it’s Survivor’s Guilt, but more like Survivor’s Anxiety. At some point in the coping process, you start to wonder what makes you so different from the person you lost to depression (suicide). And if you can’t find those differences, the all encompassing question then becomes “Am I next?” Now, at the surface, it sounds very self-absorbed. But it’s much deeper than that.

My friend had many of the same characteristics I did. Emotional trauma, a history of assault, a heart as big as the ocean with enough emotions to cause hurricanes, law stress, being in a state that wasn’t welcoming to our identities, and more. She was brave, and she fought hard. She had battles not many people knew, and I’m sure some that even I didn’t know. But when the news came, I wasn’t mad at her, I didn’t judge her for it. I sat and cried and wondered about what had led her to that point. And seeing the similarities, I began to wonder that all important question.

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Because if I were in her shoes, as I have been from time to time, I don’t know that I would have made a different choice. And knowing that, what was it that would be my “moment”? Would it be a large, life impacting event? A bunch of small things that I couldn’t control that became too much for me? One poor choice? I became so engulfed in this paranoia that I would be next, that the spirit of death was coming for me, that I think I extended the grieving process far longer than I otherwise might have. I isolated myself, because I didn’t trust myself. I wasn’t suicidal, I was afraid that I would become so.

3. Taking Care of Yourself is Selfish-and It Has to Be

At a certain point, the tie that binds people who have suicidal history and those who we’ve lost from it becomes lost on people who have never contemplated or lost someone before. A good friend graciously agreed to go to the funeral with me, and at the end, I found out this was the first time they’d ever been to a funeral for someone who died from depression. I remembered what it was like for me that very first time and I wept for them. I wanted to make sure they were okay, but I was so entrenched in my own grief that I couldn’t step out and make that effort.

I remember I panicked for the first week after she died and sent every “strong person” I knew a message, asking if they were okay. They didn’t know why I did it, I just tried to carry on a conversation with them to make sure they knew I cared. Every person who had ever admitted they were depressed, anxious, or otherwise emotional got a text or message. I was scared. I was scared that suicide had become an infectious disease that would take away all of my friends (or me) if I didn’t actively try to stop it myself. And I grew so weary that I collapsed into myself.

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A couple friends asked if I was okay. I lied to them, because I didn’t want them to worry that I would, indeed, be next. I spent a lot of time avoiding calls, messages and social media in general because I couldn’t take any more bad news. And that was when I realized that my self-care needed to really focus in on self. I allowed that isolation. I took a chance on letting myself work through the grieving process. I stopped communicating with everyone for two months. (With the caveat that I still texted my parents to let them know I was doing okay.) And I broke down. I cried, I existed, and at times, I didn’t sleep for days at a time. I checked off the stages of grief when it was time-not when I thought it was time. And that meant that life kept on going while I was stuck.

When I finally began to reemerge, I was more honest. I told friends that I spent time grieving, about all the emotions I’d felt. And even though I knew I’d been selfish, I knew that it was because I had to be. I had to spend that time focused on only me because I wouldn’t have survived it else-wise.

4. You Can’t Do it Alone

This may seem like it flies in the face of the last point. It was at the end of the two-months recovery time that I began to seek out friends. I chose to go (the very first day) to see counseling services to prepare myself for reintegration into life as I had come to know it. I started going on friend dates. I put myself out there, because I knew that I needed to. The truth is, without my husband covering for me, I wouldn’t have been able to heal this summer. Without counseling services, I’d be a wreck right now. Without those good friends, I would be alone. And those are just small snippets of the network I have amassed.

I chose to get off of social media, and I told everyone that I was stopping this blog for a while. And all of those things are true. I need to learn how to be my own person, not someone who compares their successes and failures against the polished social media posts that make everyone seem perfect.

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But it’s September, and that means it is Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month. And although those we have lost will not read these words, this blog is for the people who are left behind. The people who are still fighting in the trenches. The people who are still wondering if they will be next.

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I know that it’s hard. And I know it’s scary. I’m not going to lie to you. Life sucks. And then it gets better and then it sucks again. But you don’t have to face it alone.

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Healthcare in My Country: A Monologue in Three Parts

Image result for stock photo doctorPart One: Physical Health

What is wrong with my foot? Is my toe purple? Why does it hurt so bad? Hmm. Quick Google search annnnd ingrown toenail. Great. Home remedy ingrown toenail. Okay, I need to soak it, put cotton under it, and if it doesn’t get better in a week…Hah! You think the answer is to go to the doctor, but that’s not an option here, bucko. We’re gonna just hope and pray it gets better in a week or I’m gonna die from a bitchy toenail. Awesome. I wonder how bad mine is. Should I look at the pictures? No. Remember how bad you freaked out the last time you looked at pictures? You couldn’t stop picking at your sunburn for a week. Okay. HOLY MOTHER OF CRAP WHY DOES THIS HURT SO BAD? Google: Home remedy ingrown toenail quick. Hmmm I don’t think it’s infected. Apparently that would be icing on this crap cake. Wait. No. Shit. Maybe it’s cause I’m picking at it. Ugh. If I put alcohol on it, I’m going to scream. But there’s no other way. Fuck.

I should have gone to the eye doctor like a year and a half ago. I know you’re supposed to go like once a year, but I don’t have two hundred dollars to drop on an exam and frames. But it’s probably not that bad. I mean, I think I need to stop staring at screens so much. I have these little flashes of light in my periphery. I think I’ll do a quick Google search. Okay, so I have eye cancer, I’m going blind or I’m overexerting my eyes. And I need to go get them checked out. Yea, okay. I’m just gonna shake my money tree and hope enough dollars are ripe for an eye exam. That’s cute. It’s probably not that bad. I’ll just read books or something. Try to stay off the screens. Annnnnd now it’s in my other eye. Well, I should probably learn how to read braille. I’m going to hate being blind. Maybe I could just find out what’s wrong and then I can say no to getting new glasses. That’s still like a hundred dollars. Or I could try Walmart. That’s what I did last time. I don’t have the time right now. Maybe if I work a couple extra hours I can afford it. But I also need an interview outfit for school. I can go to Goodwill and hope they have something in my size. Sigh. I’ll just try to hold out until I have more money.

My teeth hurt so bad. This is more frustrating than a migraine. What even is going on in there? I brush, I take care of my teeth. Sort of. I should probably floss more. Okay. I don’t see any black spots. So no big cavities. That’s a relief. Nothing seems super red. No inflammation. So why is it…oh no. Please don’t be wisdom teeth. Crap crap crap. I was supposed to have those out but they never came in. Is this karma for loving Dr. Pepper? Is that it? I’ve heard about people who keep theirs because they have a big enough gap in the back. Maybe I’ll be lucky. Of course, if they grow in crooked, I’m still screwed. How much is tooth surgery? HOLY BALLS I can’t afford that. I’ll run down to the store and pick up some Orajel. If I can’t get the pain to go away, I’ll figure out what to do then. But until that point, I’ll just keep brushing and I’ll floss. You hear that, little teeth. If you behave, and don’t make me go to the dentist, I will floss and buy some mouthwash and we’ll have a grand old time. Do I even have a dentist? My dental insurance is nonexistent so probably not. I mean, I’m sure there are clinics who do sliding scale. Or maybe I can go to the university and they’ll have students who do it for discounts. They do that at hair schools. Ugh this pain is too much. Maybe I can pull it out myself, like I did with baby teeth. That may have to happen if I can’t find someone to do it for reduced prices. I didn’t want to max out my credit card, but I can’t afford it any other way. I sure hope nothing else bad happens or I’m screwed.

Image result for stock photo mental healthPart Two: Mental Health

Oh no. I think I’m depressed. Should I see someone? No. If I do that, I can’t afford groceries. Or car maintenance. And the sensor’s been on for a while. Am I really that depressed? I am pretty suicidal. Is that a good enough reason to go? Would I act on it? Probably not. I mean, I never have before. I should probably just stay away from anything I could use then. Guess I won’t shave this week. Or take any Excedrin for my stress migraine. Ugh. This is why I’m suicidal, isn’t it? Maybe I *should* see someone. But who would even take me with no insurance? And what are they going to tell me? I need to be on medicine? Sure thing doc, just tell me where I can get free Prozac and I’m all ears. What’s that? I need insurance? Yea, I know. But I can’t afford to eat and go to school and work and pay rent and utilities AND pay for the right to live healthily. Life’s not fair, doc. And it doesn’t get better just cause I need to go talk to somebody.

Do you think normal people see bugs coming out of their ramen? I mean, that has to be stress right? I can just ignore stress. I do that all the time. Jeezus. This mushroom looks like a slug. I can’t eat this. Guess I’ll just starve again today. First it was roaches and then it was spiders and now it’s slugs in my cheap ramen. Where does this stop? Do you think if I died, I’d wake up in a bug universe? God, I wish I could talk to someone. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like such a freak. But that’s just not in the budget right now. Or, ever, honestly. Would life be better if I got some cheap insurance through school? Would I use it? Probably not. I mean, I hate finding a new therapist. I always feel so judged. They never want to listen to me. They just want to push meds and tell me that I’m overreacting because I’m on my period. I can do that myself, standing in front of the mirror, listing off all the things I’m a failure at while I cry like a baby.

I should probably stay away from social media and my phone in general. It’s only going to make things worse. I’ll start comparing my life to everyone else’s and then I’ll be even more depressed. But I just want to stop feeling alone. Maybe a little won’t hurt. Nope. Everyone seems so put together. I’m such a fraud and a failure. They’re probably friends with me out of pity. They wouldn’t have to pity me if I was gone.

Oh no. I really am depressed. Maybe I should go see someone. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna call the clinic that’s been in my search history for like a month. I heard they do sliding scale. That could be good. I know it’s probably not going to be anything more than just student workers and an overseer, but it has to be better than nothing. Right? Sigh. I shouldn’t waste resources just because I can’t get my shit together. I’ll call if I can’t make this go away in a few days. Until then, just isolate and stay away from all sharp things and all medicines. Great.

Image result for stock photo obgynPart Three: Reproductive Health

I read an article once about women who pursue graduate degrees experience stress in weird ways. One of them was that their cycle becomes less regular and may stop showing up altogether. Maybe that’s what’s happening to me. I’d go get it checked, but an OB/GYN is a specialist and I’m not prepared to pay that out of pocket. I could go to Planned Parenthood, but the nearest one is one whole state over. I’d have to take a whole two days off of work and school to go. Plus the cost of a hotel to stay the night. Unless I got up super early and then just stayed awake. But even so, that’s a lot of wear and tear on the car. If I broke down, I couldn’t make it back. Plus, I’m sure it’s totally fine. Who needs cramps every month anyway?

Of course, if it’s something serious like cervical cancer or something, I am completely screwed. Am I in pain? No. And I’ve saved a ton on not needing to worry about white pants and I don’t even need to buy supplies. Which has been a great grocery bill saver. When was the last time I had one? Like a year ago? Yea, that sounds right. So, even if I had been pregnant, I would’ve found out by now. Awesome.

Oof. It hurts now. Where’s the Advil? Shoot. I’m out. Way to go, me. Should’ve been prepared. I guess I’ll just grab some cold water and the heating pad. Good old heating pad. I hope this pain goes away soon. It’s like my ovaries are being ripped off. What even is that? I’m gonna say nothing serious. If I just stay hydrated, nothing can hurt me. I haven’t been drinking enough water. Shame on me. I know better. I wonder what it must be like to just be able to go to the doctor when something comes up. Do those people even recognize how privileged they are? Oh I’ll put it on one setting higher. Maybe the heat will melt my soul.

I hate that I could be dying of any number of things and I will have to suffer through all of them because I can’t afford insurance. And back when I was on my parent’s insurance, I was given the death sentence of “Pre-Existing Health Condition” so it’s pretty realistic that I may never have insurance again. Awesome. I don’t make enough to save for emergencies, and even when I do, I’m required to pay for car insurance and car repairs and I doubt I could ever save more than a couple hundred dollars. Not even enough for antibiotics or screenings or stuff like that. Poverty is my disease and it’s terminal. Guess I’ll just rely on these home remedies until I’m backed into a corner.

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I would like to thank you for reading. Before I explain, I would like to say that I am okay. I am not suicidal, I am not in need of immediate treatment for anything and I have had plenty of water and caffeine today.

I come from a place of privilege. I am a pretty melanin-lacking individual. I married hetero and I’m a cis-presenting individual. (Read: White, married woman). And those are the pertinent aspects of this background. From this platform, I belong to a group of people who collectively seem to have forgotten about the rest of the world (Read: minorities). And that means I need to use my platform to speak out.

These experiences above are true. I kept them honest for the purpose of illuminating. I’m a graduate student. And that means I am part of the faceless poor. The people you don’t think of when you think “food bank” or “government assistance”. But I belong to a subset of poverty that is directly linked to healthcare. I don’t have insurance-I aged out of my parent’s and if something goes wrong, I-like millions of Americans-are left to chance. This is a harsh reality for much of the American public. I’m hoping by using my white privilege, maybe someone will understand that this is a real issue that needs a quick, successful solution.

This does not even begin to address the issues facing trans individuals, pregnant people, people with physical chronic illnesses, people of color, addiction or a plethora of other issues. I encourage you to consider these and others, as they make up additional pieces of the story I have presented.

And a quick shout-out to these stock photos. 10/10.