Reaching out is hard.

Reaching out to people is hard for a lot of people to do. It's scary just to think of being that vulnerable with another person. It's scary to open up and let another person see raw emotions, especially when those raw emotions are pain and sadness or anything that's generally seen negatively. It's even harder to reach out when you're struggling with mental illness.

When suffering from anxiety and/or depression, I have no idea how many times I've typed out a text message when I needed someone around or needed someone to talk to only to end up never sending it.

Messages just like these.

I'd type them out and then I'd re-read them checking for spelling errors or autocorrect mistakes. Then that voice in the back of my mind would chime in.

"Why are you bothering them with your nonsense? They have enough going on without you adding more to it, you know."

"You know how stressed they are right now, why do you want to make it worse?"

"You know sitting there watching TV with someone won't fix anything so why pretend?"

"You know they have better things to do than come sit with you."

"You're just being dramatic."

"Why make them worry about you like that over nothing?"

"Do you really want them to see you like this?"

"Of course they're going to say they're not busy and can talk, they'd feel guilty otherwise."

"They have their own problems, what makes you think they have time to deal with yours, too?"

"What if they say no? Won't you just feel worse then? Why do that to yourself?"

"They're probably busy and don't have time to deal with you right now."

I could go on and on with 100 other ways I've talked myself out of reaching out to someone when I was struggling and needed help. That little voice was all too happy to always come up with a long list of reasons not to press send or to put the phone down and not make that call.

Then I always felt worse than I already did because now I'd convinced myself that I couldn't reach out to the people that care about me for whatever various reasons that little nagging voice decided to throw out. Which usually brought on feelings of hopelessness, loneliness and isolation.

I couldn't stand to be struggling through things alone but I couldn't bring myself to ask anyone to help me either. It was a painful cycle to go through and never failed to make things worse. I'd type out a message and then I'd talk myself out of sending it. I'd go to a person on my contacts list and stare at the little green phone that would make the call and then I'd talk myself out of it. Not because I didn't want to but I felt guilty for putting myself and my needs over the feelings and needs of the people in my life. I'd think about how they were doing and I'd decide I could wait, that I didn't need to put this, me, on their plate of concerns, too. Other times I'd look at how well things were going for them and couldn't be the one to bring their spirits down. I always worry about myself second. This is great for depression and/or anxiety because it makes it easy for the illness to convince you to keep things to yourself. 

I'd gather my courage up and prepare myself to reach out, to be vulnerable and then that nagging voice that tells you all those lies when you're struggling through depression or anxiety would beat me back down. I'd end up either feeling numb, like an empty shell and feeling so unbelievably broken. I'd sit there just staring off and wondering how I could be so dumb. Or I'd end up feeling too much, getting overwhelmed, and I'd wind up sobbing on the floor because even sitting up felt like it required too much energy. I'd cry until my eyes hurt, until I was shaking and sick at my stomach. Then regardless of either response, I'd be angry with myself for being so weak. I was weak for not being able to ignore the nagging little voice, for letting it talk me out of anything. I was weak for having no response, for feeling broken. I was weak for having such an emotional response, for curling up and crying until I couldn't cry anymore. I was weak for letting my mind get the best of me. I was weak for not being able to send a text or make a phone call. I was so angry at myself for not being able to do more and do better that I ended up feeling a lot of resentment and self-loathing.

None of that is reality. I am not weak now and I wasn't weak any time I was struggling with these things. It takes a great deal of strength to battle with mental illness every single day and keep doing it every single day. It beats you down, day after day. I wasn't weak and no one else is, either. It's hard battling an illness every day. It's hard battling an illness every other day or once a week or however often it happens. I was stronger than I ever realized or gave myself credit for and if you're struggling right now, so are you.

The people that care about you are never too busy to be there for you when you need them. Depression and/or anxiety will try to tell you they are but they're not. They're not too busy. You are not bothering them. Yes, they might be dealing with some stuff too but that doesn't invalidate what you're struggling with. Their good day won't be ruined because you needed someone to talk to or to be there for you. There is no "perfect" moment. There is no "better time." You are not a burden. You are not a hassle. You are not "another problem" or "more stress" for them to "deal with." You don't need to feel weak or guilty for needing help. You don't need to feel angry or loathsome because you can't do it on your own. You are not hopeless, broken or beyond helping. Don't listen to that nagging little voice in the back of your mind telling you how broken you are or how much you're a burden to those that care about you because that voice is lying and so unbelievably wrong.

You don't have to struggle alone. Even if you don't have anyone or don't feel comfortable reaching out to someone in your real life, there are so many online resources available for you to connect with someone. Therapy chats, apps like 7CupsofTea, groups, message boards, text message help/support and helplines you can call. Once you get passed the fear and uncertainty the first time, it's easier to ask for help and reach out when you need it. 

Please just know that you're not your illness, it doesn't define who you are. No matter what that little voice tries to tell you and no matter how loudly it tries to tell you it's lies, you are worthy, you are strong, you are capable and you are brave. 

World Mental Health Day

Today is World Mental Health Day so please remember your mental health & emotional well-being are just as important as your physical health is.

Mental illnesses are as real as physical ailments & just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean a mental illness doesn’t exist.
I talk about mental health a lot because I want others to feel like & know that it’s okay to talk about it. You’re not alone, not a freak, not weak, not broken, not a burden, not useless, not crazy, not less worthy as a person in any way because you’re struggling with a mental illness. It’s a disease, not a character trait or flaw in your personality.

It’s hard finding courage to speak up & reach out but YOU CAN DO IT. If you can’t face to face tell someone, do it over a phone call. If you can’t find the words to vocalize, write it out. If you don’t feel comfortable or safe talking to anyone you know, there are helplines you can call & online chat services you can use.

Mental illnesses can make you feel like no one understands, no one cares, no one will miss you, the world would be better off without you & your problems & all of that is so very wrong. I care & I’ve met so many other people like me out there that care & we care even if we barely know you because we know how painful, isolating, heartbreaking & damaging it is to feel like no one cares or understands. We know what it’s like to battle our own thoughts & feelings & we just don’t want to see anyone thinking they have to go through it alone.

Also remember that you’re never being selfish for putting your health first & taking care of you. You need to fo that the same way you need to breathe and eat to keep on living. Anyone that tells you you’re being selfish for taking care of you in whatever way you need to is not someone you need to listen to.

People who make life changes to physically better themselves are praised for it while people who have depression, anxiety, ptsd, bipolar disorder, eating disorders & other mental illnesses are told to get over it or told to not talk about it at all. It shouldn’t be that way & I’m fighting to see a change made in how mental illnesses are seen & treated. The more we talk, the more we break down the barriers of stigma that surround mental health & the people struggling. The more we break those barriers down, the more we normalize what should be a regular topic of discussion for our own health and well being. The more we do that, the easier it will be for people to open up without the fear that they’ll be judged, ridiculed, dismissed, labeled, written off or ignored.

Lastly, remember if you think someone you care about is struggling, reach out to them & ask how they’re doing. Kindness is free. Sometimes just knowing someone cares helps so much.

I Drove

I sat at home feeling trapped. These walls felt like anxiety and containment instead of comfort and peace.

I got in my car and I drove. To where, I had no idea. I had no destination and no where to be.

I drove with the windows down letting the warm evening air tear through my hair, leaving my short locks tangled and wild.

I turned the music up loud enough to drown out every thought in my head. They couldn't scream louder than the music and I took comfort in that.

I drove far away from home watching as the tall buildings and shopping centers lessened until there were no more.

I drove until the crowded roads thinned out as the cars around me were fewer and fewer.

I drove and watched as the evening sky turned from a pale blue to shades of orange, red and purple.

I drove until the houses around me turned into nothing but fields and farmland.

I drove until I had no idea where I was and then I kept going.

I drove until I could see nothing around me but darkness and stars. I let that darkness wash over me, let it envelope me wholly.

Some people don't like the night but I do. The dark, star filled sky feels like home more than my own home does sometimes. I feel free instead of trapped in my own skin.

I don't have to smile in the dark. I don't have to think of things to say in the dark. I don't have to pretend in the dark. In the dark, I can just be myself, even when who I am feels heavier and darker than the blackest night sky.

What Does Progress Look Like?

Last week in therapy:

I expressed frustration to my therapist because I was feeling like I haven't been making any progress. She asked me what I felt like progress looked like, what I wanted progress to feel like. I honestly didn't have an answer because I hadn't given any real thought to the concept of progress. I just had this vague idea in my mind of progress without really thinking about what that might look or feel like. She let me sit there a few minutes to try and gather any thoughts I had but I still came up with nothing.

She said, "let me tell you about your progress then. At times, it can be difficult to see it yourself when it's happening gradually and slowly. Sometimes we need an outsider to show us how we're changing."

Honestly, I had to actively keep from rolling my eyes because it sounded so cliche. I didn't because I remembered I tend to think of a lot of cliches as being considered cliche because they're a simple truth that's stated frequently. So, I waited.

Therapist: "A year ago today, what were you doing?"

Me: "I have no idea. I was maybe in Austin or working or at the pool or something like that. Just another day."

Therapist: "What you weren't doing was sitting in front of a therapist getting yourself the help you needed and deserved. I'd call you still sitting in front of me progress. I'd call you still working every day to achieve mental wellness progress. Do you agree?"

Me: "I consider that progress but I don't feel like I've done much more than seek out professional help."

Therapist: "Okay lets start with anxiety. Are you using the tools and techniques I've given you for managing your anxiety?"

Me: "Yes."

Therapist: "Are those helping you manage your anxiety?"

Me: "Well yeah but-"

Therapist: "There isn't a but there. You're doing the things you need to do, that's progress. Every day you get out of bed and try, you're making progress. Every day you look in the mirror and tell yourself you have to keep moving, you're making progress. Every day you're feeling sad and reach out to someone or do something for yourself, you're making progress. Even days when you're feeling your depression or your anxiety or anything negative and you acknowledge it and let it know you see it and know you won't let it win in the end, you're making progress. If you can take all of this in and still don't feel like you're making progress, we can talk about that, we can work on that until you feel like you're making progress."

We continued discussing the progress she's seen in other areas and it's just little things. Things I hadn't even really noticed yet. When we ended, I had a lot to think about.  

I thought about all the little things that didn't look like progress but in fact was that exactly. Putting real thought into what I wanted progress to look like and be versus what realistic progress for me actually looks like. A realization that I was looking for some big thing to happen to feel like I've been making progress hit me and I started laughing at my self. I'm forever talking about how the little things in life add up to something bigger, something more, and here I was ignoring my own little victories that are adding up to something more.

Progress isn't the same for any two people. It's like two people having the same mental health issue, it's not the same even if it is the same disorder because it does different things for different people. We feel the same things but it's not the same exact experience. It makes logical sense that recovering and improving your mental health won't be the same as anyone else's. The mental health issues people face are always unique to them. Depression isn't exactly the same for any two people. What works for some won't work for others and looking at other people and comparing yourself to them only sets you up for failure.

I now realize that "seeing progress" isn't a grand gesture that will present itself. It's not an epiphany that's going to show itself in brilliant blinding light so there's no way I can miss it. It's not an automatic shift in thoughts, feelings and moods that happens all at once.

Having a bad day doesn't mean I'm not making progress still. It just means I've had a bad day and need to not let that take over and wreck the progress I have made. A bad day or a couple bad days in a row are going to happen still but I can't let them win overall.

It's okay to still feel weak sometimes, too. I felt like bad days or feeling weak meant that I was sliding backwards and let them get to me more than I should have. It's been a weird thing learning how to handle myself and learning how to think differently. It's definitely not a bad thing and I don't get discouraged by the progress I still have to make to get to where I want to be. I realize I'm not where I was last year mentally and emotionally and that feels good. It's reassurance from myself that I am capable, I am strong and I can do this. As much as I need support from people around me, I also need to believe in myself and right now, I'm feeling stronger than I have in a while. That's the kind of progress I wanted, I just needed help seeing it.

Vulnerability.

I've blogged about therapy twice in recent weeks. One a long post with lots of details and the other a shorter piece with lots of talk about feelings and things of a deeply personal nature.

Yet I didn't post either of them. They're both saved as drafts but I'm not sure I'll ever post either of them. If I don't hit publish, then I essentially just wrote something as if it were in a pen and paper journal. No one will see it but it's still there and as long as it's sits in draft mode, I can go back and read it whenever I want. I think sometimes, I just need to write things out for myself. And there's something comforting knowing I can go back and read over my thoughts again knowing that they're out of my head but still my own privately.

The thing I've always loved most about writing is that I never police myself here. In this space, it's easy for me to say the things that I might struggle to get passed my lips. I know if I hit publish, some people are going to read it. Even some people I know in my real life are going to read it. It doesn't bother me, though. I'm not sitting in front of them as they're reading it. I'm not engaged in a dialog via text message telling someone these things, waiting for a reply. I'm relaying my thoughts and feelings to people but it's not a direct form of communication so I don't get that same vulnerable feeling that I hate. It's not judgment I fear from others because that I can deal with. Making myself feel vulnerable in front of another person, I struggle with that and like to try to avoid it as much as humanly possible. Which is something I'm working on being better about but I'm not there yet.

Writing things out here doesn't erase all the vulnerability, though. At times, when I'm writing about things that are deeply personal, I still feel a little vulnerable because I think it's near impossible to not feel some slight sense of vulnerability when you're writing about something deeply personal. When it's something that's hard for you, something that's hurt you or caused you grief, it's hard to write about those experiences without feeling raw about it. 

When I write specifically about my mental health or my friend's suicide or my grandfather's death (as a few examples), sometimes I want to erase things I've put down because they feel too personal. I rarely actually do that, though. As much as I hate feeling vulnerable, sometimes it feels really liberating to let go of whatever is making me feel that way. Even if I just letting go through words on a screen. 

Struggling with mental illness & a list of resources.

Note: There's a list of helplines and helpful websites dealing with suicide prevention and mental health resources under the actual blog post so feel free to scroll down to that if that's what you're here for. :)

One of the hardest things about struggling with a mental illness is going through it alone. You can know without doubt that you have a friend or multiple friends or a family member or three that you can go to but sometimes you just can't bring yourself to do that. 

Maybe you've always been seen as "the strong one" and going through depression or having suicidal thoughts or wanting to cut yourself or developing an eating disorder makes you feel like you're weak. (You're not weak. Not even a little bit. Not at all.) Those people that see you as a tough cookie can often be the last ones you want to reach out to and say, "hey, I need a hand here." You worry that they'll think less of you. You worry that they won't take it seriously because you're strong and you can handle it. You worry that they won't know what to do because you're so often the one that's helping everyone else. 

Maybe you feel like you don't want to bother anyone with your problems. If they truly care about you, they'll NEVER see you reaching out to them as bothering them. It's not. Please, don't ever look at it that way. You aren't a burden to them on your best days and you're certainly not one on your worst days. 

There are tons of reasons why you might not want to reach out to someone close to you. Mental illness is still so stigmatized that people worry and even at times fear admitting they're not okay, even to the people closest to them. You shouldn't be embarrassed because depression can hit anyone. An eating disorder can happen to anyone. Mental illnesses don't have a specific type of person they prey on, they can strike anyone at any time. 

There's always someone to talk to if you need someone to hear you but don't feel like you can go to anyone in your daily life or if you just don't want to go to anyone in your life.

Suicide is a permanent end to temporary struggles. Even if it seems like there isn't any relief in sight, it can get better. It doesn't happen immediately or even as fast as you might feel it all started in the first place. It takes time and work to get there and a good support system, whether that's two people or ten people, help so much. And the hardest part after realizing and admitting that you're not just having a lot of bad days is reaching out and talking to someone. It's so damn hard to take that first step. I opened my mouth so many times only to close it again and force a fake smile back on my face. I typed out dozens and dozens of text messages thinking if I could type the words instead of say them it would be easier only to delete them because I couldn't bring myself to hit send. I even wrote, yes on actual paper with pen, a few times only to shred those papers without any one's eyes but my own seeing them. 

In the last few months since I started getting more and more vocal about mental health issues on twitter and on facebook, I've been surprised more than a couple times by people reaching out to me for various reasons. Some because they wanted to talk to someone that understood, some that just wanted to ask questions and a couple that wanted to make sure I knew they had my back if I ever need them. People that have followed me on social media for months or years, coworkers that I didn't know were going through or had gone through similar things, even a couple friends that just wanted me to know they were there and would be any time I needed them. 

I know it can be scary and intimidating to do so but please reach out to someone if you need to. Be it the suicide prevention lifeline, online chat services, a friend, a family member, your neighbor buddy, someone at church if you go, that person on social media you see advocating mental health, a work friend, a therapist or anyone you trust and feel comfortable talking to.

If you don't know where to start, here are a few places to start and a couple websites that list resources. There are so many ways to get information and get help if you need it. 
Please don't struggle alone. 

Trans Lifeline is a non-profit dedicated to the well being of transgender people. We run a hotline staffed by transgender people for transgender people. Trans Lifeline volunteers are ready to respond to whatever support needs members of our community might have." Call:  US: (877) 565-8869 or Canada: (877) 330-6366

The Trevor Project offers accredited life-saving, life-affirming programs and services to LGBTQ youth that create safe, accepting and inclusive environments over the phone, online and through text." The only national 24/7 crisis intervention and suicide prevention lifeline for LGBTQ young people (ages 13-24), available at 1-866-488-7386. They also provide online chat and text message service as well for LGBTQ youth, information found through the link.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline offers their services 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Free. Confidential. They also have help specifically for young adults, victims of bullying and veterans, information can be found through the link.

7 Cups of Tea offers people a free, confidential, completely anonymous chat service. You can call or chat online with any number of trained active listeners. They're not a suicide prevention line but they can help you find the resources you're looking for if you need someone to point you in the right direction. Or if you just need someone to talk to about something that's bothering you or just need to vent, they have listeners available 24/7 and they have a free app for android and iphone so you don't even need to go through their website to do it. They also have message boards and group support to help you connect with others on everything from eating disorders, self-harm, addiction recovery and much more.

HopeLine focuses on providing the community with a free and confidential crisis and suicide prevention helpline and instant messaging service. HopeLine specializes in providing suicide and crisis intervention, supportive and non-judgmental active listening, gentle and understanding discussion of crisis resolution. Crisis Line: 919-231-4525 for locals in Raleigh, NC or for anyone else 877-235-4525 They also have a Teen Talkline available, as well.

THIS is a list of crisis centers and suicide prevention lifelines in your local area that you can call if you feel like you need to. It lists every state and lists multiple cities for each state.

THIS is an international list of crisis centers and suicide prevention lifelines. Click your country and find what you need closest to you, wherever you may be in the world.

National Alliance of Mental Illness is a great website to find resources and information through. They also have a helpline that can give you information about mental health disorders, symptoms, local support groups, local services & more at 1-800-950-6264. They also offer online resources for LGBTQ, minority groups, family members & caregivers, teen & young adult and veterans & active duty.

National Eating Disorder Association is the leading non-profit organization in the United States advocating on behalf of and supporting individuals and families affected by eating disorders. They campaign for prevention, provide improved access to quality treatment, and increased research funding to better understand and treat eating disorders. They have a lot of information and resources on their website and they also have a helpline you can call, free & confidential at 1-800-931-2237.

P.S. If you have any other relevant, helpful resources, websites, etc that I can add to this, please feel free to email me at amorousrocker [at] gmail [dot com] :)

Death and Life

June is an odd month for me. There's a lot to celebrate as it's one of my younger brother's birthday month, my birthday month, my boyfriend and his sister's birthday month and Father's Day. There's a lot of joy in there but then there are things that were life changing events that make it a harder month to get through emotionally and mentally.

June 9th is one of my younger brother's birthday. It also unfortunately is the day our grandfather passed away. Yesterday was the 4th year since he passed and my brother's 29th birthday. 

The last several years of my brother's life, I've always felt a little guilty because I want my brother to have an amazing day on his birthday, as people should. But I also still get so sad on that day because I miss my grandfather a lot. And I know it's something that weighs on him as well and that sucks. I also understand how much it sucks to lose someone you care for on a day that's supposed to be a damn good one to celebrate life and love and the people in your life. I digress. 

I was lucky to have someone so great that's worth missing so much be such a big part of my life because not everyone's fortunate to have a pair of kick ass grandparents. At the same time, it makes it hurt that much more because losing someone you have a close relationship with sucks. Even if you're a little happy to see them go because you know their pain and suffering is now over and who doesn't want that for a person they love?

Last year on June 13th, my friend Amanda committed suicide. June 15th is my birthday and that also happens to be the day we found out that she had committed suicide. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. In part, because it's hard not to think about it considering my birthday celebration last year ended with me laying in bed only to find she'd been found dead in her ex's kitchen shortly after I'd laid down. Also because it's coming up on that one year and people have been posting things to her Facebook wall. Poems, art, random thoughts, prayers and various other things. All things she'll never see or read but things that make the person posting them feel connected still, in some way. Or maybe it just makes them feel better in another way. I don't judge because I can't bring myself to delete messages from her and can't remove her from my Facebook feed even though I'll never be able to talk to her again. 

Her death was, in several ways, harder to deal with. My grandfather had Alzheimer's (which is what got me into doing the Alzheimer's Walks and fundraising for the Alz Association) and he was sick for quite a while before he finally couldn't fight anymore. Amanda, I didn't see that coming because you rarely ever see suicide coming. I had plans to see her and hang out the following weekend. I went to her funeral that day instead, which wasn't the way I wanted to spend time with her.

It wasn't the first friend I'd lost like this but it's not something that gets easier. It's hard and you go through so many emotions. I still occasionally get so goddamn mad at her for being gone and then a few minutes later I'm crying because I just miss her and wish I could split fajitas and some margaritas. I know it won't be as bad this year as it was last year, though. I won't be shocked and devastated because she's already gone. And as hard as it is to cope with death, it does get easier the more time passes by.

My grandfather's death was the first death I'd gone through that was someone I was truly close to. I feel guilty saying that because I'd lost other friends and relatives that I honestly didn't know that well before him. Those deaths sucked in different ways but his was the first one that was heartbreaking and devastating for me. I kept having people telling me it would get easier the more time that went by and after that first year, I really understood that nothing would be as awful as the first year of adjusting to the fact that he was gone. There were so many things that I didn't realize would hurt that did. Not needing birthday cards or father's day cards for him anymore. Not needing to buy a present for him at the holidays. Addressing Christmas cards solely to my grandmother and not to both of them. Changing the name in my cell phone from "Grandpa & Grandma" to just "Grandma." Watching a basketball game and remembering the reason I even like watching basketball is because I used to watch it with him and got into it because of him. Tons of little things that never even crossed my mind but felt like punches right to the gut. Now, after several years, moments like that happen few and very far in between.

With both of them, I think I thought it would stop hurting much more immediately than it did despite really knowing better. Maybe I naively hoped I could get passed it and be okay faster than I really did.  Like it couldn't possibly keep being painful year after X amount of time because at some point, you're obviously going to realize you've cried all your tears and had all of your sad moments. Then you could just think fondly of them and remember happy times and feel gratitude at the time you had with them and nothing will hurt anymore because it's been long enough. That's a really nice thought but it's not realistic and that realization sucks. There isn't a "long enough" and another realization that this one brought on is that that's okay, too. It's okay to cry and miss them and hurt. As long as you're not dwelling there and do remember all the good, it's okay to not be okay after you lose someone you love. It's okay to not be okay sometimes even after it's been a while. There's no time limit and no reason to feel guilty or ashamed over how you feel.

Therapy and 20 things to be happy about.

*Dusts off blog*

I recently started seeing a therapist. I say recently because it hasn't seemed like long at all but now that I think about it, it's been several months since I made my first appointment. That's not really what this post is about though I mentioned it because therapy is what plays a role in me sitting here typing into this screen.

I love writing. I used to write often. I was even working on a book of short stories at some point last year. The worse the state of my mental health got, the less I wrote until I had stopped completely. Only a few people knew about the short stories I was writing and anyone ever asking how my writing was going once I had stopped was painful. I didn't want to admit that I'd lost my desire to do one of my favorite things. That my head was in such a dark place, all I could think to write was things I didn't want other people reading because it seemed so telling to me. So, I'd put on that fake smile I was so used to and oddly very comfortable wearing and would say it was going fine, that I just needed to make more time to write. Or some such nonsense to hide the fact that I'd stopped. 

In seeing a therapist, we got around to discussing why I wasn't writing. She suggested I try blogging again since I'd previously mentioned that before. She thought it would help, for a number of reasons. I sat down and tried more times than I can remember only to walk away sad and frustrated and angry at myself for not being able to put anything to paper. Once, she mentioned I could try blogging about mental health. I automatically rejected that because I hadn't even told anyone I was seeing a therapist. She mentioned it again a couple months later. I tried. Instead, I took to my Twitter account and started tweeting about mental health there more often, joining the #EndTheStigma crowd. 140 characters or less was pretty much all I could manage in terms about speaking about mental health but I was happy because I was making progress. My thoughts were coming together again and I was able to actually connect with several new people who were looking for people that understood what they were struggling with. 

So here I am today, writing this and feeling like a champ because this far exceeds a handful of 140 characters or less tweets. Though if you follow me on Twitter, don't think the mental health tweets will be going away because it's something I feel strongly about and I've found a little community on there where it's never discouraged to speak openly about mental health. I hope one day that's something that happens on a much larger scale and I think talking about it is a good way to break down stigma and encourage people to talk about it so it's not seen as something embarrassing or something to be ashamed of. I digress.

I decided that at least once a month, I'm going to post a list of things that make me happy because that gives me a goal to reach for in terms of getting some writing done. That's an easy subject because I've no shortage of good things in my life and oddly I haven't really lost sight of that. Which has made the struggle for mental health harder for a few reasons but that's another post for another day. Maybe. 

Anyway.... 20 things seemed like a bit of a challenge but not too difficult of a goal to reach so there's where I'll start. If you've ever done a list like this, you know it's never as easy as it sounds. 

20 Things To Be Happy About

1.) The rain finally stopping so I can get in some pool time. 

2.) I don't hate my job. So many people I know go to work every day dreading it so I'm thankful that the few days I do go in dreading it, it's just because I know the day ahead will be a particularly trying one or because I'm in a mood that has nothing to do with work itself.

3.) Short hair for the summer. 

4.) My birthday is June 15th and the boyfriend's is two weeks later. So we're having a joint birthday party on one of the weekends between the two. I'm looking forward to all the tasty food I'll get to make for that because I love cooking for others.

5.) Orange juice with a half a teaspoon of honey mixed in.

6.) Books, always and forever.

7.) An upcoming trip to Las Vegas.

8.) Our boyfriend and I just celebrated our 9th anniversary at the end of May.

9.) The smell of cinnamon rolls filling the apartment in the morning.

10.) How quiet the gym is at 6 AM.

11.) A friend is getting married next weekend and his pure excitement and happiness rises the closer the day gets and that's one of the sweetest things ever.

12.) My volunteer group. They're a bunch of weirdos but they make all the Saturday mornings I spend with them so much more enjoyable.

13.) S'more Oreos because I love almost all of the things that are S'mores.

14.) Supportive family.

15.) Having a handful of great people in my life that can always make me laugh.

16.) Vegetable and herb garden. Which is something I didn't ever think I'd enjoy but there's something awesome about being able to grow your own peppers and herbs.

17.) Board games and card games and all the games you can sit around a table playing. I grew up playing games with my family and thankfully I have a partner and a couple friends who enjoy playing games, too. 

18.) The days on the weekend where I actually manage to sleep in passed 6:30 AM.

19.) New running shoes that are actually comfortable from the start.

20.) Being comfortable in my own skin.

Happy Thursday!

I miss her.

It's been 5 months since my friend's suicide.

Tomorrow would be her 30th birthday so I've been thinking about her a lot the last few days. There won't ever be a Whirlyball party or a super nerdy Cosplay party or any other event or conversation again. No baking her any birthday cupcakes. No card. Nothing. No goofy banter. No random talks. No weird little messages. Just nothing. The random conversations and dumb little jokes is what I miss the most.

I miss her sassy little smile and her wit and the weird things we used to joke about. I haven't been bothered by it much lately but significant dates and events of deceased loved ones are always tough. Especially the first ones you go through after they're gone. And then I think about how awful her family must feel, how much they must be hurting with her being gone and I feel terrible for them. I know how I feel and can't even fathom how they must feel. I haven't deleted my friend from my facebook yet so I've seen every time a family member posts how much they miss her. It was one of them posting something this evening about her birthday coming up tomorrow that set me off tonight.

I feel like I should be fine by now, that I should be passed the tears and the hurt. And mostly I am but there's still some part of me that hurts so much when I think about or am reminded of her. Though it doesn't happen every time. Sometimes I will see or hear something that reminds me of her and I just smile. When it hurts though, it's this raw space that feels like a wound that just won't heal. Then I go through all the emotions again. Crying because I'm sad and miss her. Angry because she would still be here if she hadn't pulled a trigger. Guilty for getting angry because I so completely understand that mental illness is a bitch. Then I'm sad again and overwhelmed because it's so much to feel and it always rushes over you quickly. Like a sucker punch that hits you hard in multiple places simultaneously.

Suicide is hard. If it's something you humor the idea of or think about at all, please reach out and get help. You might feel like no one cares but if you're gone, you'll leave behind people like me. People that will miss you more than you might think possible. People that will cry for you. People that will be left with memories and pictures. People that will wish they could hug you and laugh with you and plan with you and celebrate birthdays with you and have the dumbest most pointless conversations in the world with you. People that will wish they could say things to you that they didn't get to say because they didn't realize that last time was their last chance. People that will feel pain so raw and so deep that it will reduce them to a sobbing aching mess sometimes.

No matter how alone you feel or how much you're hurting, it can get better. Not even just for those people that you'll be leaving behind but for yourself. You're worth it and you're not beyond fixing. You aren't broken. You aren't ruined. There's no shame in not being able to overcome things on your own. We all need help sometimes and that's nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of.

And as I've stated in previous posts, that's said as someone who has been there and someone that still struggles sometimes.

If you're struggling in any way, talk to someone. That first step, that decision to reach out for help and making yourself do it is the scariest part. Talk to a teacher, a friend, a coworker, a parent, a sibling, an aunt, your partner, a professional, anyone you feel safe and comfortable talking to. You can email me if you can't or don't want to talk to someone you know. Call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255) and talk to them. If you'd rather chat online, 7 Cups Of Tea is a free, confidential online one-on-one or group chat with a real people there to listen and help you.

It can get better.

Much to her surprise. I'm not a lesbian.

One of my new coworkers was surprised to find out I have a boyfriend. Not because I'm hideous looking or because I'm a horrible person. She assumed I'm a lesbian. The logic (and I use that word incredibly loosely) behind her theory was very special.

Her: "You like sports, like a lot. Like you seem to know baseball and hockey better than the guys here do. And plus you drink scotch and that's a total man thing. Plus you listen to metal music and like muscle cars and you're into shooting archery. And you dislike shopping and don't like chick flicks. And you don't seem feminine really very much. Plus your Nike's look like they're men's Nike's. I mean not like you're manly but you're not girly at all and seem pretty tomboyish like you'd be better off being like in a guy's body, you know? So I really thought you were a lesbian." 

Just.... really? A person's interests, dislikes and personality in general does NOT indicate what they're sexuality is. Also, I did at length explain why her assumption was stupid, offensive and horribly problematic. I'm pretty sure she hates me now but I think I'll be able to live with myself. Also, quite happy in my current womanly body and definitely do not wish I were a man. Getting erections at random times and no longer having boobs anymore? No thanks, I'm fine here because this works for me and I'm good with who I am. I'm a big fan of doing what works for you, what makes you comfortable and what makes you happy. As long as you're not hurting yourself, hurting others or doing something that could cause potential harm. 

I have never understood why things have to be sectioned off as "boy things" and "girls things." I think that's partly because I grew up as a girl that had little interest in the "girl things" I was supposed to like and much more interest in the "boy things" that weren't for me. Gender binary can go die in a fire now, thanks.

Growing up, I liked LEGO's and Ghostbusters. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Batman were idols of mine. I liked sports. I liked music. I liked painting. I had an obsession the trains (that still exists to this day.) I loved books. I liked building things with my hands and science sets were rad, too. I liked the color purple. I loved art. I loved monster trucks. I liked playing outside and getting dirty. I liked hanging out on the garage floor with my grandpa while he worked on cars. I liked doing crafts. I was fascinated with pirates and dragons instead of the princesses I was supposed to be interested in. I pretended to be a Ghostbuster, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle or Batman in whatever made up fantasy game I was playing with siblings or friends. I loved stuffed animals. It's not like I didn't like "girl things" just on some kind of principle because there were things considered as "girl things" I did like. I remember being a kid and wondering why it was weird for girls to want to play with Tonka trucks or why boys weren't supposed to want an Easy Bake Oven. It always made sense to me that you should like what you like as long as it makes you happy but that's not what society told you back then. It's largely still not what it tells you today, sadly. 

Bless my parents, they didn't try to push stuff off on me that I didn't care for. They stopped buying me dolls and other "girl things" and just let me have the things I was interested in instead of the things I was supposed to be interested in. Sometimes those were "girls things" and sometimes they were "boy things." I called them toys and hobbies. I know, weird.

So hearing my cw explain to me why she just assumed I was a lesbian brought me back to that. I do love sports and have since I was a little kid. I was also an athlete growing up and happened to play all of my favorite sports at one time or another. I'd hope I'd have a pretty good understanding of the games given the time spent playing and the even longer amount of time spent watching. Girls like sports, too. I swear it's not some trick and no, we're not all trying to impress the mens by liking sports and showing off our sports knowledge. Some of us (and there are a lot of us, I can direct you to tons of avid sports fans on Twitter that identify as female) just really enjoy sports, k.

I get that because of movies and television there are things considered as "man drinks." Men drink beer. Men drink scotch. Men drink whiskey. If it's a brown liquor, men put that in a glass and knock that right back. SO DO WOMEN. I'm not the only woman I know who can enjoy a nice glass of whiskey. 

And yes, I wear men's Nike's because it's really fucking hard to find women's running shoes I like that aren't doused in colors I hate. If I'm paying $70+ for some shoes, I'm going to LOVE the way they look as much as I love the way they feel on my feet. 

I'm not listing out why every example she used to come to a conclusion about my sexuality because no matter what else was used as an example, it's not indicative to how I identify my sexual orientation. 

I'm bisexual so don't think I'm ranting because she assumed I was a lesbian and OHMYGOSH HOW DARE SHE. But really, how dare she drop her jaw and let her eyes fly open in surprise at the mention of my boyfriend that she assumed I didn't have because I'm like a totally masculine tomboy brochick who obviously wishes she were a guy so obviously I like girls? Because every dude on the planet only wants women and if you're not a heterosexual female it's apparently because you wish you were a man but you're in deep denial or some such bullshit. I digress. I'm mainly irritated this way of thinking is STILL so prevalent in today's society. I know I'm not alone in thinking you should like what you like, as long as you're not doing harm to yourself or others, as long as it makes you happy.

 Aside from assigning things as appropriate based on your gender, another issue I have is assuming because a person's personality doesn't fit the mold here then they obviously belong there. I'm not girly enough so obviously I'm not heterosexual. I'm not but that's not an indicator to make a judgement off of. Being an "ultra feminine" woman  is not a sign of being heterosexual anymore than being a woman who is "tomboyish" is a sign of a women being gay. 

All of these silly preconceived notions about how people should be this way or should be that way or vice versa are really insane. You really can feel like there's something wrong with you when so many people and so much of what you see around you is telling you the way you are isn't right. That can be horribly confusing and quite damaging to a person.

There's no set way to be. There are no guidelines that say if you like these things and act this way then you go here in this box. But if you act this way and like these things, please go here instead. If everyone were meant to be the same way, we would be. We're not, so it shouldn't be so difficult of a concept for people to grasp or accept.

It Can Get Better....

**Trigger warning: suicide**

My mom's birthday was yesterday. I realized last night that I had several more people to get birthday cards for in the next few months. My sister's birthday is next month, my dad's is in December, my youngest brother's is in January and I have a small handful of friends and a couple coworkers all with birthdays coming up in the next few months. I got the clever idea that I should make a quick list so as not to forget anyone and then go buy all the cards I need for the next few months all at once so I don't have to run to the store in the name of birthday cards nine times over the next few months. I also wouldn't have to worry about having to run out last minute in case I ended up losing track of the days and then remembering, "hey I need to send so-and-so a card because they're birthday is two days away!"

So I got my list together, double checked to make sure I wasn't forgetting anyone I planned on sending one to and then set off to get what I needed.

I love sending cards and letters. I'm one of those weird people that still enjoys hand writing out letters and thank you notes and sending them off in the mail. I almost always write an extra little note inside of cards I send because there's almost always something missing that I want said in whatever card I find. 

Sometimes, I hate looking through cards, though. Sometimes, I'm looking through cards looking for a specific one. In this instance, the birthday card for my sister. Then it springs to mind that, hey, Amanda's birthday is the same day as my sisters is! I think for a second I need to get her one too and then I remember that no, no I don't need to get her one because she's been dead since she killed herself this passed June. And then I'm standing in Hallmark with tears rushing down my face while I stand in front of a row of cards that I can't really see anymore. I'm sad and I'm crying and I'm trying to stop and I feel so grateful I have on a hat that covers half of my face and relieved the ladies in that store leave you alone unless you need their help and angry at myself for breaking down in public and sad again all because I can't buy my friend a birthday card because she's gone. 

So I leave without getting anything because I can't stop crying and I don't like to cry in public. I don't like to cry in front of people I know. Mostly I don't want to make a scene and don't want to explain to strangers why I'm standing in Hallmark with tears rushing down my face and I needed quiet and solitude to get myself calmed down again. So I sit in my car for 10 minutes. I think about just driving the four minutes back to my apartment but I'm stubborn and want to get what I came out for. I feel like I'm letting myself down if I go home, letting my emotions and anxieties chase me back home without completing a task. I don't want to let these things rule me, so I don't. I'm fine. So, I let myself finish crying until it doesn't feel like there's a gaping hole in the my stomach. I open my door and splash my face with water from a bottled water I had with me. I turn on some loud rock music and I take some long, deep, calming breaths and then I'm fine again. I go back in, get an odd look from the lady at the counter and I smile and she does a strange little head bow and smiles at me as I get back to buying cards. 

Suicide is hard. Death is hard enough on it's own but suicide makes something hard and makes it even harder to cope with. You're in denial because no, no, no, my friend/loved one is fine and would never do that. Even if they weren't fine, this can't be right because they wouldn't kill themselves. They have friends, they have families, they seem happy and content with life. Or they're struggling but they have family and friends and people that care about them, people that love them, people that would do anything within their power to move the whole fucking Earth to make things better or at least more bearable. There's no way they would do that. You'd know, you'd be able to tell, right? Right? Wrong. 

You wonder why they would've done this. You don't understand. Amanda didn't leave any kind of note explaining anything. From what I've come to understand, most whom commit suicide don't leave any kind of thought out note explaining or saying goodbye. The hardest part with reaching acceptance of their death is accepting that you'll just have to accept that they're gone without understanding why they took their life.

I cried a lot in June after Amanda's death. News of her suicide came just a few hours after I'd gotten home from celebrating my birthday and Father's Day with my family and boyfriend. I was having a party the following weekend that she was going to attend. I struggled a lot the first few weeks. Then I cried less. Then I didn't cry at all. Then the realization I wouldn't need to buy her a birthday card and wouldn't have to worry about getting her a gift for the awesome birthday party that was planned months in advance was the first time I'd cried over her death since the first week in September.

I don't know if she thought death would be easier. I don't know if she couldn't bear the thought of living life anymore after the events that lead up to her taking her life. I don't know if she was thinking her kids would be better off. I don't know if she just panicked. I don't know if thought and planning went into it. I don't know if she was just that depressed. I don't know if any of the things that I've turned over in my head after her death were thoughts she had or not. 

I do know that suicide isn't the answer. I'm not just speaking as someone that has lost someone to suicide, or someone that has lost two people she cared deeply for to suicide but also as someone who has thought about it and fought through depression more than once. 

I stood on a bridge once when I was 17 and thought about climbing the rails and jumping. I stood there, running my hands over the cold metal and looking down into the waters below me and thought I could just climb over, jump and nothing would hurt anymore. I've always loved bodies of water; they're calming to me. I leaned over the railing, listening to waves crashing and water churning and I felt like pushing myself over it and letting myself drown would be the most fitting way for me to go. I remember thinking it like it was the most logical thing in the world because at the time, I was a mess and just didn't want to live anymore. I was about to climb the rail when a cop car pulled up and the officer got out slowly, calling out to me. I remember how slowly he approached me, how soothing he sounded and how angry I instantly became because I knew he was ruining everything for me. It was late at night and he was curious why a young girl was out so late, by herself, hanging out on the bridge. I knew he knew what I was thinking of doing and he stood there with me, asking me if my family knew where I was at this hour. He made a few jokes and told me I needed to get on home. He followed me as I left. He followed me and made sure I actually went back home. I cried myself to sleep that night because I was so angry and sad and hurt. I cried until I couldn't breath anymore, my face buried in a pillow, my fists clenched and punching the mattress. 

I decided then I couldn't commit suicide. Not because I suddenly wanted to live but because I couldn't do that to my family. I couldn't hurt them that way and I resented them for that. So, my depression got worse, I started drinking more and doing drugs a lot more. I smoked weed and took Xanax I got from a coworker as often as I could. I moved out and moved in with a friend who was a drug addict himself. We had neighbors who were big partiers. I did more drugs. I drank way more. I didn't want to kill myself anymore because I spent so much time high so I wouldn't hurt anymore. Until I came down, felt worse and wanted to die all over again. It was the worst cycle in the world.

I contemplated suicide occasionally still but then I'd just get high or take a few drinks from a bottle and I'd feel "better" again and then I wouldn't think about how I wanted to die anymore. Then one day, I met this guy. He was waiting in an office with me to do a job interview and I remember we were sitting there together, not saying much at all, then he suddenly looked at me and asked, "so why are you so sad?" I remember blinking at this guy a half dozen times trying to figure out what his deal was. He shrugged and said, "I'm a mess, I guess I recognize it in others." I just shrugged. Then this guy starts telling me that he applied for this job because he was starting over. He told me he had been really depressed and had tried to kill himself. He told me he had tried to jump off of a bridge but had figured it wrong and ended up landing wrong, breaking both of his legs instead. He was recovered and it would be the first job he'd had in a while because of that. He waited for me to talk. I just stared at him, goosebumps on my skin, not really capable of saying anything even if I had wanted to. This kid jumped from the same bridge I had only months ago contemplated hurling myself over. I've never believed in coincidences but I couldn't figure this out. We both ended up getting hired and we started working together a week later. He only worked there for six weeks but in that six weeks, he talked to me a lot about suicide and depression. It took me about a month to realize I didn't really want to die anymore. Not just because I didn't want to hurt my family but for a ton of other reasons. I don't even remember his name. I wish I could because I wish I could tell him thank you for saving me from myself. It sounds cliche but I was planning on trying again. I was trying to figure out ways I could do something to where it seemed like an accident and not suicide. My family would still be hurt but it wouldn't be as bad as losing someone to suicide. In the weeks I worked with that guy, he spent a lot of time talking at me, even though I often didn't say anything back to him at all. Then one night, I remember getting high with my then boyfriend and then sobbing into his shirt because I didn't want to die. I remember telling him everything and all he did was hold me while I ugly sobbed and came undone. I stopped thinking I'd be better off dead. Unfortunately it took quite a while longer to stop using drugs to get me through the day. It took years before I stopped abusing substances to make myself feel "better" but I got there, eventually. 

That was the first period of my life where I very seriously considered suicide a viable option and unfortunately, it wasn't the last. However, I'm still here and suicide is not something I entertain the idea of anymore. Currently, I'm struggling with issues that I'm not really ready to openly talk about here yet. I'm not ashamed of them and I'm not too scared to discuss them. I'm just not ready to put it all out there. I feel like when I understand it all better, I'll be more willing to discuss it in a more open venue.

Some days I think about the periods in my life where I thought I should just kill myself and I'd like to punch that silly girl. I'd also like to hug her and let her know how much strength she really had despite how pathetic and weak she thought she was. 

It can get better. Some days, it will suck. Some days, it feels like everything is wrong. Like nothing you do is right. Like nothing is moving forward in a better direction. Those days happen and you can't beat yourself up over them. You can't get stuck in those days.

No matter how alone you feel or how much you feel like absolutely no one in the world could possibly care or understand what you're going through, you are not alone. There are people out there who will understand or at least try to understand. There are people out there who will offer you empathy and support because they genuinely want you to feel better. Those people could be friends, family members, professional health care workers, a trusted co-worker, someone in an online support group or a stranger on the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Hell, you can email me and I'll talk to you. Just talk to someone. Suffering in silence doesn't help. You deserve better than that. You're worth more than that. 

Getting help doesn't make you weak. You don't have to be ashamed or afraid. You're not wrong. You're not broken. You're not beyond repair. Your mental illness and issues do not define who you are as a person. Whatever you're facing, it can get better.