A Letter to My 17 Year Old Self

Like most of my posts, this could be triggering to those that have suffered from physical or emotional abuse.

Dear Annalise,

It hurts me to write you this letter knowing already that you will receive it six years too late. Regardless-- there are things that I wish to share with you.

You are worth so much more than you think. Your limiting beliefs regarding your self worth and capabilities have such a strong hold on you. No amount of reassurance will make you realize this yet, and you're going to settle for way less than you deserve. And you're going to settle a lot... because you don't even know that you're settling. 

You are going to make A LOT of dumb, impulsive, naive, and misinformed decisions. These decisions will lead to heavy consequences and looking back you will realize that they were mistakes. You will always realize, in hindsight, that the feeling you had before making the poor choice was your intuition telling you no. You will continue to push that voice away to receive instant gratification, pleasure, fun, and excitement. You will take a very, very long time to learn to TRUST that voice and to stop pushing it away. Even when you learn what that voice is you will struggle to listen. You're still struggling with that as you read this. Sorry 'bout it.

You are about to face the absolute best but absolute worst years of your life. The next three and a half years of college will be quite hard, but mainly carefree, blissful and FUN. College will be the best time you've experienced so far.. Don't get too excited. You will then be faced with the hardest year and a half of your life thus far. Be prepared and never give up. Sounds cheesy...but really, I'm getting to the good part eventually. Remember this: when you make it through that awful time, you will again be on the upswing.

You are going to encounter people that change you so much. You'll make best friends and lose best friends. You are going to be surrounded with several toxic people, and a handful of amazing people. You are going to think you're happy doing certain things and will later realize that you probably (read: definitely) weren't so happy after all. 

You're going to be emotionally abused. You won't recognize it as abuse and you'll continue to allow it in your life. You'll let that tear you apart until your soul is so lost that your worth is at 0% battery. When you finally break free, you'll be physically abused. You'll be sexually abused more times than one. More than two, even. That will be suffocating and that will stick with you for years before you fully process what even happened to you. I hate to mention it now, but you're still working on that one.

You're going to fall in love and be in a very supportive relationship. You'll be happier than you've ever been... You're going to be certain that he's the one. But he won't be. No, really. I know you can't fathom that at 19, 20, or 21 years old after a three year relationship--but he wasn't the one for you. He was in your life for a reason and certainly a season but you need to let go when it inevitably all comes crashing down. 

You are going to struggle a lot with an eating disorder, anxiety, and depression from 17 to 22. You're going to learn how strong you are by learning where you are weak. You will learn to identify your values as a human and you will learn that working toward your values every day will bring you closer to your true self. You will overcome these things and continue to work on them for life. Yes, you will. I promise. 

Eventually when you are almost at the age of 23 you will experience utmost serenity. You will feel a tranquil oneness--oneness with yourself. Oneness with your purpose, spirituality and the people and environment around you. You will realize that you have made it through hell and that even if you have to keep going, you can always make it through. You will become independent in every sense of the word--you will inspire others. You will use your empathy to make the world a kinder place. (You also will let your empathy turn you into an emotional sponge so be careful when you walk into a room...)

You will learn that the energy of others GREATLY affects you, and you will learn to carefully allot time to those individuals that enhance your positive energy and less time with those who drain you and drag you down. You will spend a lot of time figuring out what truly invigorates your soul and try to connect with how you were as a child. Blissful innocence. 

You will battle with quite a few health problems in the upcoming years, girl. But you always overcome them. I'm telling you right now--even the times that you technically have no heartbeat and your body should not be alive you WILL live. So don't let it scare you.

You will find yourself lying on the floor bawling too many times for me to count right now or ever. You'll also find yourself staring at a razor blade...deciding on a bottle of pills, and frantically trying to keep your car straight on the freeway so as not to crash into the divider as your brain desperately orders you to end it all. 

You're going to feel psychotic and messed up most of this time. Maybe you are. But maybe you are just the only one talking about it. Maybe you'll realize, in sharing your struggles, that there are so many others dealing with all of this same stuff, after all. Maybe you'll realize that we've been programmed as a society to do certain things and act a certain way and inevitably spend months trying to deprogram your brain from the way it was taught like Pavlov's dog what is "right" and what is "wrong". What is acceptable vs. what is unacceptable. What is fake vs. what is real. (Essentially you'll be in a state of existential crisis most of the time. It's fine.)

(All of those maybes are DEFINITELYS.)

Don't let this letter scare you. As I sit here writing this I have fought off the demons that had such an indomitable hold on me for the past few years. I sit here as a different person. I feel peace and joy and love. I AM peace, joy, and love. 

I wish I could have given you this letter sooner, Annalise...but unfortunately, I had to live it before I could write about it. Buckle up and get ready. 

Love,

Annalise

Living Your Truth

"There comes a point where you have to realize that you have to stop doing things to make your parents happy."

My older sister said those words to me a few weeks ago as I sat in her chair at the salon, head covered in foil. I carried that seemingly simple sentence around with me for weeks after we had a conversation that really changed the way that I now think about things.

We were discussing the immense progress I've made over the past year--through illness, several hospital stays, mental health crises, and more. As I shared what I had gone through the past few months with my sister, she stopped me.

I had just finished saying, "I want to do ____, but mom and dad would shoot me." 

That's when she uttered the words that I opened this post with--that's what kickstarted my major epiphany that I've been tirelessly sifting through these past few weeks. 

For almost 23 years I've made nearly every decision with not just my parents, but everyone else, in the forefront of my mind. If I do this, then they'll be upset. If I do that, then they'll make fun of me. If I don't do this, they'll stop supporting me. The list goes on... And so many times when I DID do the thing that elicited fear in me out of what my parents or others would think, their reaction would only confirm my hesitation in the first place. 

I realized that there were very few decisions made driven by pure passion, truth, and interest on my part. I don't have to hold the same beliefs as my parents, friends, acquaintances, or anyone else for that matter. I don't have to do what's considered "typical." I don't have to adhere to a timeline set by myself or anyone else because I've been brainwashed into conforming to some strange societal norm.

So many things we do every day are based on norms, and what is or is not acceptable. Even something like marriage--who says you have to get married? Who says you have to have kids? Or work a 9-5, conventional job straight out of college? Why is that just what's kind of...expected? Why am I feeling bad for not being married yet because so many of my peers are? That's absurd. My soul doesn't feel bad about that at all. My soul is like, "Yeah, I love being single. I'm way too freakin' independent and free-spirited to want marriage right now." I graduated from college almost two years ago and I'm not working a typical full time job. So? There's not some giant timeline that we're all supposed to follow. We're just conditioned to think that there is, and anything else is just outrageous and stupid. 

I'm not going to go into all of the strange realizations I've made or all of the digging and discovering I've done over the past few weeks. We all have to realize things for ourselves. But I do want to say that it's so extremely important to find out what we believe, pursue it, and live it. Live our truth.

I've been living my truth. I've been researching, learning, filling my brain with knowledge and using that knowledge to form educated opinions. Opinions and beliefs I "held" previously surrounding religion, politics, the environment, etc. have changed immensely simply because I found out for myself what I believe to be true. It wasn't that I had set in stone opinions before, I just didn't take the time to figure anything out so I rode on loved ones' coattails. 

I've been creating--I LOVE Youtube and social media, and despite what anyone else says or thinks I know that my use of both of those outlets helps not only others but myself. The transformation photo/caption I posted went VIRAL and made over 2.3 million impressions on Instagram. Since then, I've received an THOUSANDS of emails, direct messages, comments, etc. from people asking for help and advice. I absolutely love connecting with people and being able to inspire them. There's nothing WRONG with that. I shouldn't feel BAD about that, or let someone tell me that posting "half naked" photos is indicative of being a hoe when the purpose of the photo is to help those that struggle with eating disorders or self harm. Like, what? No. I'm done holding back to protect a certain image of myself, family, or otherwise. 

I've been going to therapy! There's absolutely nothing wrong with therapy. In fact, I wish every person on the planet had the opportunity to see a therapist a few times a month. I learn a lot about myself, my upbringing, and my values in my therapy sessions. 

I'm collaborating with companies and brands that I BELIEVE in, not just ones that will pay good money.

I've been doing things that keep my brain thinking, staying connected to others and making new connections and planning, but not obsessing over, my future plans. 

I've been so much less anxious and not depressed at all. For that I owe nutritional rehabilitation, therapy, medication, and simply waking the f**k up. Life is BEAUTIFUL. I have SO MANY THINGS I am going to do with my life. Helping others is one of the values that I hold highest...why on earth would I hold back?

I visited Los Angeles for a few days last week and stayed with that same older sister that gave me advice a few weeks ago. We had a blast together--we hung out, talked, I met up with friends in the area, I went to Disneyland, I went dancing... it was the best weekend I've had in a very, VERY long time. I felt like MYSELF. 

We talked a lot about what I want to do--with my blog, Youtube, a podcast, and taking on clients for an exciting new project. I also met up with Amanda Bucci before leaving LA and we talked about these things, as well. My eyes light up and I get butterflies when I think about doing these things that I love so much.

Several times during my stay my sister told me how she could tell that I was so happy and that my soul belonged in LA. I couldn't agree more. Normally when I'm boarding a plane to fly home I'm ready to be home and I'm done being out of my routine...but not this time. I wanted to cry boarding that plane. I've been wanting to move down there for over a year now, but due to all of my health problems I couldn't. Until now. 

I can think of a few reasons why I shouldn't move down there--why I should just stay in Northern California, get a full time job, play it safe...but that's NOT what I want to do. That's not what will make my soul happy. That won't serve me. That will create anxiety, stress, depression, and lack of fulfillment. 

I can think of A BILLION reasons why I should move there! My sister, so many friends and connections, so much opportunity in the field that I desire to work, so much opportunity for collaboration with likeminded individuals. So much potential. I have so much love to give and as an empath I need to be around others like myself. It's a different vibe where I live now.

I'm done playing it safe and living in a way that makes no sense for me. I don't want to do things in a conservative, old fashioned way. I am going to thrive. I am going to live my truth, help others, and do me. I'm a special soul, and I'm not going to let it go to waste. 

Shoutout to all of the other special souls out there who realize how weird it is that we're conditioned to do the things we do. Let's band together and start doing the opposite. :p

On Suicidality and Selfishness

**Trigger Warning: This article may be triggering to those struggling with suicidal ideation or other mental illnesses. **

"Suicide isn’t chosen. It happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain. When you wake up in extreme pain and crippling sickness and get mad at God for allowing you to wake up instead of thanking him for the day. Because you don’t want the day…because you have no choice in your life anymore.

Two years ago I didn’t know this, and I thought that people who died by suicide were selfish, insane, weak, and stupid. I thought they were willingly throwing away the life they were given because they were momentarily frustrated or sad or angry or even just pessimistic. I had no idea that I soon would be in the position of fighting intense suicidal urges. I didn’t realize that suicide was more than just being selfish and stupid. It’s just about utter hopelessness and an inability to cope with circumstances. A permanent solution for a temporary problem? Sometimes, yes. But what about when the problem isn’t temporary? Or when you have no way of knowing if it’s temporary and you truly cannot live another day in such agony…

That’s all suicide is about. Coping. A natural human instinct. I don’t feel bad or weak because of it. I don’t even feel like I truly WANT to die. Quite the opposite, really. I just have more pain than I can cope with. It’s certainly not my first choice to die but when every day is agonizing and this is what life is, I cannot see myself living like this any longer. "

You're probably wondering what kind of messed up website that excerpt came from. You might be frustrated with the author's opinion of suicide being a coping mechanism and not being selfish. Maybe you understand and wholeheartedly agree with the above words because you've fought demons of your own. Maybe you're not sure.

Well, I'll let you on a (not so little) secret. The author of that excerpt is me. That was a few paragraphs out of my six page long suicide letter that was composed on December 31, 2016.

If you know me, that lil' nugget of information may have completely caught you off guard. In fact, the mere fact that I'm even writing this post is because I'm convinced that what I went through for the past year and half had to happen so that I can help others. I didn't see it whatsoever whilst in the thick of it--but now I do. So here I am. If you're someone that's shocked and dismayed and embarrassed at the fact that I'm writing this post...you can go. I refuse to let my experience remain enclosed when releasing it can be beautiful for others. 

Long story short--if you're new here--I've struggled, since I was about 17 or 18, with various and varying degrees of mental illnesses. Anxiety, depression, an eating disorder, a somatic disorder, and PTSD being the main ones. I have zero shame in saying that because if there's one thing I've learned it's that I didn't make any one choice that gave me any of those diseases--they were brought on by genetics, trauma, life experiences, and honestly who knows what else. But it doesn't mean I'm crazy or a disgrace to society. The reason I say that is because I am a very high-functioning member of society--4.0 GPA, involved in all the extracurriculars, graduated college at 21, etc. I'm not some crazy monster that brought these things on herself. And neither is anyone that deals with similar mental disorders.

Anyway.

The first time I had a suicidal urge was September of 2016. I lived away from family at the time. I won't go into detail so as to avoid triggering others, but it caught me off guard and terrified me. I never understood what it would have to take to bring someone to consider suicide...I could never imagine any circumstance where I would want to do that. But all of 2016 had been so rough on me--several hospital admissions--one even 3 weeks long, failed therapy attempts, failed medications, countless medical problems that weren't getting resolved...

That's the insidious nature of depression and suicidal ideation--when the urges or severe episodes come, they COME. And death feels like the only option. Because you've exhausted all your resources--all your coping skills. And YOU'RE exhausted because every day is like World War 3 in your head.  

From September to December I continued to struggle, to varying degrees, with my depression. I was always baseline depressed, and then every week or two I would have a major depressive episode. We're talking can't-get-out-of-bed-or-shower-and-want-to-crawl-out-of-your-skin-and-die type of episode. Hallucinations. Catatonic states. Memory loss. A seizure, even.

The worst episode happened around December 28th of last year. I began my letter, unsure if I would magically come out of the episode and change my mind or not. On December 31st, a series of events led me to printing out the letter and leaving it on the kitchen counter for my parents and family. I then went upstairs to my room.

I'm still alive, clearly.

I don't need to go into specifics about that time. Soon after that day, I was admitted to a program that helped me deal with my severe depression, trauma and other mental health issues for a while. I moved to Denver for about three months. I also finally gained back all of the weight (and more) that I lost from my eating disorder because after being chronically very underweight for five years, my body needed to not be under physical stress so that my mind could work on healing, as well. I have not had a major depressive episode since that time--I currently see a therapist once or twice a week, a psychologist (because I'm finally on medication even though for so long I fought it), and this week I will be starting a type of therapy for trauma called EMDR. I underwent very extensive (and expensive) psychological testing that provided extensive information about my illnesses and treatment for them from here on out. I learned a lot about myself including that I struggle with a severe somatoform disorder. This disorder makes me get very, very sick whenever I am anxious or depressed or detects a threat--my body actually begins to attack itself for survival to protect me from my brain. This very disorder is what caused all of my health issues last year. 

I have spent the last five months working harder than I ever have on my mental health. Actually, on my physical health, too! For me, I needed to gain almost sixty pounds to finally not be underweight anymore and that required a lot of sitting and A LOT of food. I've had to wake up early for therapy appointments, undergo a lot of trial and error with many medications, take time off of work completely, and prolong going to graduate school just to focus on my mental health. My mental health was so poor that I almost killed myself on more than one occasion. If you're struggling, don't think you can just distract and avoid and get through it. Pay attention to your mental health.

I spent all of 2016 and the first few months of this year in the darkest, scariest, lowest place I've ever been in. I never saw a way out. Actually, I still have days where I see no way out. But I can say with 100% surety that I went through all of this because it's going to come in GREAT handy when I have my degree in Psychology and I'm helping others that struggle like I do. Maybe there will be another reason, too, (maybe I'll meet my future husband one day when I'm walking to therapy hahaha) but I know for sure that one of my top five values in life is empathy, and I have a whole lot of empathy to give.

Now, I'm returning to work, planning on returning to school in the fall, feeling (and looking, sheesh) physically a whole lot better, and dealing with only minor anxiety and occasional depressive, intrusive thoughts. I still have flashbacks but have hope that through EMDR I will be able to lower the pain that PTSD causes me and the effect it has on my other disorders. 

On the outside it's nearly impossible to tell that I struggle in the way that I do. So many people have sent me messages or left comments asking how I "got" all of these illnesses since I'm a successful, attractive, privileged, young, white woman. My answer for that is I DON'T KNOW HOMIE. But I do know that there are millions of others like me out there thinking they're the only one out there that has some of the nastiest demons inside but hides them inside a picture perfect exterior. 

Is suicide selfish? My answer is a big fat NOPE. Because trust me, I knew that my family and friends would be devastated and truthfully the one thing that could take the edge off my urges was thinking about my three little nieces growing up. I did not want to die because I was weak, or selfish, or careless, or cowardly. I just wanted a relief from the physical and mental pain I was experiencing. But the thing is--death isn't a relief. No one is relieved in the midst of suicide. In fact, it's a very painful experience. I've got a purpose here, and I'm not leaving until I've served that purpose. 

So, no, I am not weak, selfish, careless, or cowardly. I am STRONG as hell, EMPATHETIC more than you can imagine, THOUGHTFUL in every sense of the word, and BRAVE because I'm here today after making it through the hardest time of my life thus far. And brave because it's not over yet--I'm not healed, and I may never be. But with acceptance I don't have to be completely whole. I just have to be willing to fight. I look back on that day in December spent in the hospital (and the dozens of other times) and I am shocked by the person I am now. I do not feel victimized or sorry for myself because of my illnesses. I feel empowered and special and capable. I'm a warrior. 

Annalise

If you're struggling with thoughts of suicide, please reach out. Talk to a trusting family member, friend, therapist... or call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255

How Do I Cope With Being Raped?

This is a post that seems long overdue when I think about it, but then I realize that had I written this any time prior to right now I would not have been ready. I wouldn't have been able to truly share my experience. This post would have been too premature a year ago. Now, I'm ready.

There are an average of 288,820 victims (age 12+) of rape and sexual assault each year in the United States. One out of every six women will be raped in her lifetime (1). And those are just the ones that get reported. 

I am fairly certain that the actual number is MUCH higher. Why? Well, for one, I did not report my rape. Nope. And I know several others who did not report their rapes either. 

Statistics aside, I want to talk about the aftermath of being raped. It's not something that just happens and then you move on with your life as if nothing happened. Ha! If only. No--the effects of being raped are physically and emotionally scarring. 

I spoke about it in my story, but after I was raped my mind repressed the memory for over two years. It was not until I was in a therapy session, talking about relationships and sex when I had a flashback and experienced my first episode of PTSD. This is fairly common in rape victims and victims of other traumatic experiences (2). 

After that first incident I began the process of healing from this trauma. I want to share with you some of the ways you can begin to heal if you have experienced any kind of sexual trauma.

The most important thing is to first realize that 1) it's not going to be a short and painless process, and 2) you're going to have to commit to working at it every single day and you cannot give up if it gets too hard. Stopping before you're finished will ultimately result in lasting pain.

Next, you must internalize the fact that it was not your fault. I don't mean just saying that you know it wasn't your fault--I mean really, truly dig deep and ask yourself if you actually know that. Are you hesitant to go out dressed a certain way or act a certain way because you're scared something could happen? Do you push potential partners away or not let people in? These can all be signs that your brain still believes that YOU were the problem. 

You need to commit to FEELING YOUR FEELINGS. Though we as a society feel like it's somehow noble to just "shake it off" or "distract ourselves" from real issues...it's not! Those feelings WILL come back and they WILL come back 10x stronger. Feel your feelings as they come and don't judge the feelings. Don't try to outrun the cruel shadows that follow you. Also, do not turn to drugs or alcohol to mask the pain of your experience. Again, you are digging a deeper hole and not solving the real problem. 

I should have mentioned this next one at the start: a key part of this process is to surround yourself with those who truly love and care about you. Distance yourself from everyone else. 

You cannot change the fact that you were raped but you can control 1) how you react to the situation (to an extent) and 2) your future. Yes, the rape itself inevitably changed you and made you a different person than you were before--for better or for worse. (I like to look at it from the lens of better. I needed to go through that experience to strengthen me and open my eyes and heart.) But don't let the offender win. You deserve to have an amazing, fulfilling life and to be free from the mental chains that currently tie you down. 

Therapy. If I had one wish it would be to make having a therapist a law. Seriously. I think EVERYONE should have a therapist. When you are a victim of trauma, I think it is crucial to explore different types of therapy. Eye-movement desensitization (EMDR) is an extremely useful form of therapy for rape. This type of therapy allows you to access repressed memories and process through them. There are various other forms of therapy, and though I will not go into each individually I will list a few: neurofeedback, sensorimotor psychotherapy, somatic experiencing, and of course basic talk therapy. My counsel to you would be to find what works for you. I can only speak to talk therapy and EMDR, and I would recommend those two as a starting point for everyone. Start with talking to a therapist, and then as you have worked through much of the trauma begin to explore EMDR if you think it will be helpful. Remember--things usually get harder before they get easier when dealing with severe, traumatic repressed memories. 

Lastly, I want to list a few things that have helped me tremendously as coping mechanisms in my recovery process. These are things you can do in the moment of distress--they are short-term fixes to hard feelings that you can utilize while the long-term process is worked through. Without these I would probably be curled up in a corner holding a back of ice all day. (That's another tip--hold a bag of ice or frozen orange if you're starting to experience depersonalization!!)

Quick coping tools: yoga or stretching, listening to podcasts, reading fiction, talking to loved ones, taking a hot bath, meditating, visualizing, baking, writing, journaling, coloring, doing anything creative. 

Finally, give yourself grace. This is not easy. It will not be easy to heal from. But it IS possible, and you will do it. I still experience small bumps in my recovery--just last week I had a flashback in Target (ugh, way to ruin my favorite place ever) and had to run out of the store crying. It's so important to process through these difficult emotions NOW so that you can move past the traumatic experience and continue living your life and finding joy. 

References:

1. https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence

2. http://mentalhealthdaily.com/2015/06/15/repressed-memories-causes-mechanisms-coping-strategies/

What Not to Say to Someone With Depression (& What to Say Instead)

I recently talked about what makes depression a real illness and discussed how it can affect one's life. By pointing out that one cannot empathize with someone who is depressed unless they themselves have dealt with depression (and even then, all of our experiences are different and range in duration & severity) I feel that it is now important to talk about how we should talk to someone that struggles with depression. 

*First, a preface that turned into a bit more of a rant than I intended*

As a millennial, I hear a lot from older generations that we millennials are "too sensitive" and "take everything personally" and "get triggered too easily." I have a huge problem with these accusations because first of all, there is no such thing as being "too sensitive." Sensitivity is not a character flaw nor is it something that should be fixed. Sensitivity is simply part of the way we were brought up--a result of all of our life experiences and situations that molded us into who we are today. If a parent ever tells you that you're "too sensitive" then maybe you should turn that finger right back around (please don't do this unless you want to be shot) (I'm kidding...but probably don't HAHA) and tell them that they're the one who coddled you when you fell as a toddler or became enraged over teachers grading your papers unfairly...the list goes on. (I'm not saying those are bad things, because they're not. But everything that happens in our lives affect who we are.) The things we experienced as children inevitably shaped who were are today, and aside from that fact... some of us are actually just born highly sensitive.

I've had a soft, sensitive, tender heart since I popped out of the womb. I've always taken things personally and shed tears more often than what I assume to be the norm. (Is it normal to cry when you drive past a dead squirrel? Asking for a friend.) But I also am very compassionate and kindhearted and receptive to others' needs because of my sensitivity. It is not my fatal flaw, and I shouldn't be "less sensitive." And neither should you. My point in bringing up sensitivity is that oftentimes articles that counsel "What Not to Say to ___" get criticized (again, in my experience it is usually by older folks) for being nonsense because they are making us all too sensitive. "Those people should just toughen up--I shouldn't have to censor myself to make someone else feel better!" Well guess what? Mental illness rates are higher than ever before. Of course, there are a myriad of things that contribute to this--I'll save that for another article. But I have had so many insensitive things said to me that have sent me spiraling into a relapse. I struggled with severe anorexia nervosa for 3 years of my life and relapsed four times. I still relapse with anxiety & depression (honestly, almost daily) and my PTSD is triggered at the most random of times. Not every relapse is due to a comment from someone else, but a lot of times those comments are what push me over the edge. Sometimes comments from others have literally sent me so deep into a depressive episode that my hopelessness was enough to want to die.

If we can teach people how to be more considerate and understanding to those of us struggling with mental illness, why wouldn't we? Why wouldn't I use my voice to try to reach those people who could potentially say the RIGHT thing to someone who is on the edge of life and death? Call me too sensitive, but I'm just trying to save some precious, vulnerable humans out there. Why? BECAUSE I'M SENSITIVE. Sue me. Don't sue me. I have anxiety. And no lawyer. Okay. 

*end rant, and on to what you came here for...*

When someone struggling with depression thinks/says...

No one understands.

What to say: You're not alone in this. I'm here for you no matter what, even if I don't understand I will try my very best. (And then actually do that.) 

What not to say: Other people have it way worse than you. (OR ANY VARIATION OF THIS !!!)

This is hopeless. I wish to die.

What to say: You are so important to me. If you're gone I will be broken and devastated. (Don't guilt them, but let them know they're important to you. Depressed individuals are more likely to put others first due to their [usual] hatred toward themselves and lack of prioritizing their own feelings.)

What not to say: You're being so dramatic. You don't actually want to die. Don't tell me that. You're not really going to kill yourself. (All of those things are so wrong and yes, they probably DO want to die and VERY WELL MAY kill themselves.)

I can't do this anymore.

What to say: Just give 'em a hug. And reassure them that you know they can even if they can't see it and that you're there to help. If it helps, use the "10 second" rule. You can do anything for 10 seconds. Then repeat that over and over and over and over...hey, they made it another day. 

What not to say: Stop feeling sorry for yourself. There's nothing wrong. Your life is fine. (You can't compare your experiences here. No matter how seemingly 'fine' one's life is, depression is a disease and can affect anyone at any time. Celebrities seem to have it all, right? Isn't it odd the amount of celebrities that go to rehab but the amount of joyous minimalists?) 

I'm too broken. I'm stupid. I'm insane.

What to say: You're not going crazy. Depression is real but let's try to manage it.

What not to say: You're so negative. You're so miserable. Be more optimistic. You're always depressed. I'm tired of you complaining all the time. Snap out of it. (Avoid all "you're so" statements. Unless you're saying fabulous or funny. Or sexy.)

I'm such a burden to everyone.

What to say: I'm not going to leave, abandon, or give up on you. So buckle up, and don't worry about me. I'll make sure to take care of myself, too, so that I can be there for you. <--Only say this if you truly are stable and can take on the responsibility. 

What not to say: Then get better so we can stop having to worry about you. I think your depression is a way of punishing me. It's your own fault. Stop being so needy. I've had to miss so much work/school/other obligations for you.

You don't get it. No one gets it.

What to say: No, I don't. But I can be whatever you need me to be and try to offer my compassion.

What not to say: Yeah, I get it. I was depressed once for several days. I just started working out/eating clean/drinking tea and then I was okay. (DO NOT OFFER ANY HEALTH, FITNESS, SLEEP, SUPPLEMENT ADVICE UNLESS YOU ARE A DOCTOR.) (ALSO: NO I WILL NOT GO VEGAN.)

And, finally, here are some more things you should NEVER say. Like, ever:

Why are you depressed?

It's all in your head.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

You have it so good.

Happiness is a choice.

Have you been praying?

Just get out more.

You're being selfish.

A person your age should be having the time of your life! (<--Ouch, thanks dude.)

Depression is a symptom of your sin against God. (Yep, I've really heard that one.)

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

I can't be around you right now, you're so depressing/miserable/rude.

You should get a hobby. (Yes, let me take up tango while my body is so fatigued that I cannot move!)

This too shall pass! 

You are responsible for your happiness! Change your mind! 

My favorite is when someone asks how I'm doing, and I respond honestly (I'm not about saying 'I'M GOOD HOW ARE YOU?!' when really I want to throw up everywhere and crawl in a hole) and then they are caught off guard so they say, "Oh... well you look great!!" That's usually what happens. Like..."Oh, thanks? I feel terrible and wish I was not alive right now but I'm glad my face is aesthetically pleasing to you. Have a blessed day." 

So what helps?

What helps me is getting a back rub. Sometimes I feel like talking and sometimes I don't. Usually, I don't but I should or I stay stuck in my head. I need someone to listen and respond without offering advice or trying to "fix" things. Depression comes and goes in waves. I know that the super intense moments will eventually pass, so I just have to get through them one at a time.

What would you add to this list of what to say or not to say? If you struggle with depression, what helps you? 

Photos courtesy of Gemma Correll (She's amazing!)

You're Not The Only One...

You're not the only one that wonders if you're the only one like you. 

You're not the only one that cries because you want to give up on life and end it all.

You're not the only one that wonders what it would be like if you were to be gone. To no longer exist.

You're not the only one that struggles daily with a voice (or VOICES) in your head telling you... that you suck. You fail. There's no point. You just made a fool of yourself. Why are you even trying? You keep failing. Are you really wearing that? You look disgusting. They don't like you. You're so screwed up. No one else is as screwed up as you. These voices make life utterly unlivable most days. You shut down. Can't function. Go numb. It's too much.

You're not the only one to ruminate for so long that it breaks you and you crumble.

You're not the only one to have to leave the store, work, school, or church because your brain talks you out of everything for NO REASON and you start to physically feel ill. You're not the only one that does this every day and with nearly every obligation. Leaving early starts to become accomplishment over not going in the first place. 

You're not the only one that views yourself differently than you really are. Or the only one that wishes you could shrink or grow or smooth, cut, shave, cut off a part of your body. Or even just have an entirely different one!

You're not the only one to feel like the only one. The only one that feels this way...that thinks this way...that acts this way. 

It's just that we don't talk about it. We don't always talk about the dark things because we feel like we're the only one that experiences them. Guess what? This is not true. 

I know I am not the only one that struggles in the ways that I struggle. I'm not the only one to have daily panic attacks and weekly suicidal ideation. I'm not the only one that has extreme highs and even more extreme lows, or bites my nails until they bleed while I contemplate every single limitation I have and why things won't work. I'm not the only one that has a deep hatred toward myself but tries extremely hard toward loving myself more every day. I'm not the only one that paints my life in a different light than it truly is via social media and fake interactions with acquaintances, friends, and family. I am not, and you are not alone. 

What do you do that makes you feel alone? Different? Broken? Screwed up? Whatever it is, you're not alone. Talk about it. You'll find out.

Is Depression a Real Illness? {Pt 2}

After tackling the beast called anxiety, I figured it's time to touch on yet another topic that I personally deal with and am highly fascinated by. (Yes, the brain is fascinating and even though I curse mine I am genuinely intrigued by its functioning--or lack thereof--ha.)

First of all, this article explains a lot of the research showing how real depression is as an actual illness. A key excerpt that I believe is vital for people to understand:

"Depression is, indeed, a culture-bound syndrome and at the same time it is a very terrible disease, which cannot and should not be equated with low or bad mood, sadness, or any other "aberration from the norm of happiness": it differs from these normal mental states symptomatically in the intensity of suffering experienced, in its character (such as resistance to distraction and other symptoms of the paralysis of the will, expressed among other things in the characteristic lack of motivation), and in its functional effects. An occasionally sad person is not dysfunctional, a depressed one is--depression destroys relationships and renders one incapable of performing one's duties, it is as real and serious a handicap as any physical one. Neither should depression be seen as an exaggeration of normal mental states, differing from them only quantitatively, or equated with normal reactions to particularly traumatic life events... As anyone who has experienced depression or observed closely persons suffering from depression knows, this absence of an external cause often leads the suffering individual to suspect oneself of madness."

Depression is a real and often lethal disease. Clinical depression affects not only mood and thoughts, but also the physical body. Individuals coping with depression have a higher level of stress hormones present in their bodies, and the brain scans of depression patients show decreased activity in some areas of the brain (1). 

Being depressed is not simply having a case of the blues. 

"Depressed" is not an adjective that should be thrown around lightly. Imagine if you complained to a cancer patient that you had a slight stuffy nose as they were unsure if they would be able to make it through the month alive. Now imagine you say "that's depressing" or "I just got really depressed for a sec" to someone who ACTUALLY struggles with severe depression. What a slap in the face.

As we've all heard before (yet most choose to ignore this wise advice) it is of no use to tell someone with depression that "it's all in your head," or "you should eat X and do Y workout," or "you're so miserable and negative to be around," or "you just need to think positive," ... the list goes on. (I've had some very invalidating and insulting remarks made while in a deep, deep state of suicidal depression. I'm not being overly sensitive--I will admit that I am quite the HSP and empath--but these remarks have cut me deep and only worsened the guilt which adds fuel to the depressive fire.)

So, no, being sad is not a legitimate medical illness but clinical depression most certainly is. 

There are a wide array of symptoms that can present themselves when one is depressed. For the sake of not making this a laundry list, I will list the symptoms I have experienced:

• Persistent sad, anxious, or "empty" mood (the empty, numb, catatonic state is the scariest to me)
• Feelings of hopelessness & pessimism (as an otherwise optimistic person)
• Irritability (more than just typical teenage angst, or in my case...22 yr-old angst?)
• Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, & helplessness (constantly...even when I'm doing somewhat okay)
• Loss of interest in just about everything (except puppies)
• Lack of energy; debilitating fatigue (I cannot even lift an arm or cry)
• Talking & moving very slowly (I'm talking like the sloth in ZooTopia)
• Difficulty concentrating, remembering, making decisions (I have severe memory lapses...severe enough to freak out my family)
• Difficulty sleeping even though I'm exhausted OR sleeping 12+ hours a day (Nap queen)
• Lack of appetite (Not very fun when you have to eat recovery amounts of food)
• Thoughts of death or suicide, creating a suicide plan (these feel very impulsive and I can tell it is my brain malfunctioning when it gets this bad...I'm not a suicidal individual)
• Body aches, headaches, cramps, digestive problems (my GI disease worsens when I'm depressed)
• Inability to participate in life. At all. (And that's the kicker)

So why, even with all of those terrible symptoms of depression, are many individuals not recognizing it as a real disease? Why do so many poke fun at or downplay the seriousness of depression? Why are depressed individuals seen as lazy, dramatic, sensitive, dark, stupid... Why can we not call out of work depressed but a coworker can call in with a head cold? Why, with all of the information that we have on this terrible disease, is it still so misunderstood? 

As I stated in part one of this series on mental illnesses, this lack of knowledge is simply a lack of experience. One cannot truly empathize with a sufferer unless they themselves have been through the experience. I can sympathize with someone who lost their husband in a car crash but I cannot empathize. My dad can sympathize that I am struggling with a chronic illness, autoimmune issues and a wide array of mental illnesses but he cannot empathize. Our lack of experience can try to be replaced by studying and trying to understand these circumstances that we have not faced but ultimately it will never be enough. (But, that's not to say we shouldn't try to understand.) 

Unless every person on this earth were to experience depression there will be no way to ultimately end the negative stigmas surrounding the disease. (And any mental illness, for that matter.) It's unfortunate, but it is also great. Because that means that the ignorance of those who don't understand is simply a byproduct of their privilege. It is a huge privilege to not have to battle mental illness every single second of every day. Heck, I'm jealous of that privilege! So yeah, sucks for us struggling but great for those who aren't!

The crux of this post is that depression is a very real illness and must be treated as such. I don't mean treated in the medical sense, (though medical and/or behavioral intervention is often crucial) but rather in the relational sense. If you are someone who has no personal experience with depression and someone in your life struggles with it, please know that you likely will not ever understand what they face on a daily basis. Try not to get frustrated with their apparent miserable attitude or laziness. Be patient with them when they flake on you or let you down. The battle that wages in their head is large enough without the guilt put on them by those they love. They are not trying to act this way. 

I don't write all of this to make loved ones feel bad about their efforts. It takes a very patient, kind, understanding person to maintain a relationship with a depressed individual and I very much recognize that. I just know that most of the time, I wish those around me understood that I'm not acting this way because it's just who I am as a person. My heart is loving, motivated, kind, selfless, and happy. My brain, when in a depressive state, likes to act the complete opposite, try as I might to change it. But that is the nature of depression. It is truly one of the largest burdens I have had to deal with in my life. It's an illness, not a character trait. It's a disease, not a choice. It's the way my brain is currently responding to a chemical imbalance and the relationship between all of the little faulty neurons in there, not me trying to be a lazy, flaky, dark, miserable, hopeless human. 

So, yes, depression is a real illness.

References:

1.  http://www.healthcentral.com/depression/just-diagnosed-822-143.html

on perfectionism

The following is an excerpt from my work-in-progress self-help book, Moldy Lemons: Finding Happiness Despite Pain.

Each chapter of the book focuses on one element that can contribute to pain in one's life--be it chronic illness, mental illness, stress, and more. Each chapter talks a bit about the topic, my experience with it, and then explains to readers how we can "turn moldy lemons into lemonade" or in other words, make the best of our lives despite how much they can suck. This is the chapter titled "on perfectionism".

on perfectionism

When I was just six years old I remember stressing out immensely when the digital clock on my father’s car read “7:55” and we were just barely pulling out of the driveway. You see, the first bell, signaling that we were to walk to our classroom, rang at 7:50. The second bell, signaling that we had better get our butts in our seats, rang at 7:55. The last bell rang at 8:00, and if you weren’t in your seat by then you were marked tardy.

TARDY. A word that piqued my anxiety. A word that teachers used to refer to the bad kids—the kids who thought it was okay to wear pajama pants and have toothpaste stains on their chins. The kids that never properly (or in a timely manner) covered their books to prevent water damage. The kids that certainly didn’t decorate those properly covered books with felt pens to reflect their shining personalities like I did. Tardy was a word that I would never let anyone use in the same sentence as Annie Mishler—a tiny but mighty little first grader.

The clock read 7:55. My father was running slightly behind schedule to get together the lunches for my sisters and I, and my little six year-old heart was racing. I didn’t know it at the time, but that feeling of sheer panic, powerlessness, and despair would later get me a nice shiny diagnosis of Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

7:57. Okay, we only live three minutes from my elementary school. If dad drops me off at the closest gate to the playground, I can run really fast and try to make it in the door of room 8 by 7:59. Then I won’t be tardy. No, no, no...I’ll never make it. I’m going to burst through the door at 8:01 and it will be too late. My perfect record of being on time every day will be ruined. I’ll be so embarrassed and then my face will turn red and everyone will know that I’m embarrassed.

Tales of a Self-Proclaimed Perfectionist

My parents never forced me to be perfect. I was never told that I had to get straight A’s or perfect attendance or be valedictorian. Those were just things that I did because I knew I had to. Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Because if I didn’t, the world would obviously end.

My parents actually encouraged me to care less about all of those things. They encouraged me to just focus on doing my best. Um, hello? I am doing my best. My best just happens to be perfection, and if I fall short of perfection then I am not doing my best. Why can’t you understand that? Why am I the only one that gets that?

It wasn’t just school. I went to my first ballet class when I was three years old, and from that point forward I had to be the best dancer. Ballet, tap, jazz, lyrical, hip-hop...I had to be the best. I tried out for my high school’s dance team as an 8th grader so that I could be the only freshman on the team the following year. All throughout my career of dancing I had to make sure I was the best. Front and center. Always on count. Never missing a beat, forgetting a move or falling out of a turn. Until my resignation from formal dance lessons at age 18 you better believe I made sure I was the best. Thankfully, for the sake of my psyche, I was naturally gifted as a dancer. I can’t imagine how things would have ended up if I had two left feet.

I started piano lessons when I was six. Much like dance, I had to be the best. I was given a few pieces to practice each week at my lesson, and the next week I would play the pieces for my teacher. The other students would repeat this process a number of times until they finally had the songs down. Me? I made sure I had them perfect by the next lesson, so that I could get more songs. Then, I made sure those were perfect because if I messed up while playing a song for my teacher the world would obviously end. Much like dancing, playing the piano came naturally to me. Again, I cannot imagine the inner turmoil I would have faced if I was tone deaf or if my brain didn’t double as a metronome.

Soccer. Volleyball. Running. The spelling bee. (First place reigning champion every year...just saying.) Art class. These are all things I had to be the best at or it wasn’t even worth trying.

Track and field. Singing. Girl’s wrestling. Three things that I was not the best at, and so I simply quit. (To be fair, there was no one else in my weight class so I never really got a chance to be the best wrestler.)

The point I’m trying to illustrate is that all my life I legitimately thought that I had to be the best. It was not even that I wanted to be the best—I had to be. There was no part of my brain that told me that simply trying was enough. It was all or nothing. (If you ever wondered how I ended up with an eating disorder...)

Perfectionism is Evil

The word ‘perfectionist’ is sometimes used, and viewed, in a positive light. Folks will describe themselves as a perfectionist, say, in a job interview, in order to convince the interviewer that they will get the job done and be the best choice for said job. Here’s why that’s not a good thing.

Perfectionism is evil. Anyone who attaches the word ‘perfectionist’ to themselves and doesn’t also struggle with extreme stress, guilt, and rigidity is simply using the word incorrectly. That person probably is very hardworking and driven—anal, even—but not a perfectionist.

Perfectionism only leads to anxiety. It will not motivate you. It will not reward you. It does not make you perfect or better than anyone else. It will never satisfy you. It will leave you constantly grasping for air, but you’ll never be able to take a full, deep breath.

Those of us with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) typically struggle with perfectionism. If we’re not being the best, we are overcome with anxiety. Oddly enough, even when we are, in our minds, being the best, we are still overcome with anxiety. Because there’s always something that we’re not doing well enough. The next thing is already in our minds and we’re formulating 6,000 different reasons why we are likely to fail.

I cannot speak to social anxiety because despite my anxiety-ridden brain I am a social butterfly. Somehow, all throughout my childhood and adolescence I still had fantastic friendships and relationships despite my drive to be the best. Maybe I also had to be the best friend? The best girlfriend? The most bubbly and outgoing? Who knows.

Let’s Make Some Lemonade

In striving for happiness and peace in our lives we must let go of the notion that everything can be perfect. We must realize that we simply cannot always be the best and that is okay. Sometimes we may not even try to do our best! Guess what? That’s okay, too! Everyone gets lazy. We are only human, after all.

I know it is easier said than done to tell a perfectionist to ‘just loosen up’. But I’m going to tell you anyway. Just loosen up. How do you expect to make sweet lemonade if you’re not even allowing yourself to taste it? Are you just trusting everyone else that says it tastes sweet and delicious?

There is life out there to be lived, and you cannot fully experience life if you are so wrapped up in being the best at everything.

Maybe you feel like this doesn’t apply to you because you only feel that you are the best in one area of your life. Maybe you’re the most fit person you know. Maybe you devote your life to fitness and claim it is your passion. Maybe you actually believe that it is your calling to diet for weeks and flaunt your body on a stage wearing 2 square inches of fabric. Maybe you have literally fooled yourself into thinking that fitness is life.

Maybe it’s your business. Or running. Or pole dancing. Or baking. Whatever it is that you think you have to be the BEST at—stop thinking that! There is more to life than just one thing, and you will never understand that until you just loosen up.

So please, don’t use ‘perfectionist’ as a trait on your resume. If anything—use it as a descriptor of your weakness when you’re inevitably asked that question in a job interview. (That question is the worst for a true perfectionist. What’s my weakness? Um, I have none. Move along.)

Oh, and if you’re wondering—I made it on time to class that day. And every other day for the rest of my student life.

I can't wait to get this book published and on bookshelves! For now, this is all ya get ;)

STRESS vs. ANXIETY

The terms "stress" and "anxiety" are used interchangeably in everyday conversation. This makes me want to rip my hair out.

STRESS is a response to daily pressures. It's normal--even good, at times. 

ANXIETY has no identifiable root cause. This is because it is a LEGITIMATE mental disorder. If you say you're "so anxious because of ____" you are using the word anxiety incorrectly. You're stressed. Worried, maybe. Nervous. Overwhelmed. NOT having anxiety. If it were anxiety, you wouldn't know why you're feeling what you're feeling.

STRESS typically goes away when the stressor is taken out of the picture. If it does not completely go away, it is still drastically reduced and that reduction can be attributed to the stressor no longer being an issue.

ANXIETY usually does not go away when things change. Things can be perfectly fine and anxiety can strike-- leaving one paralyzed.

STRESS causes your blood pressure to rise due to the release of adrenaline. It can cause your heart to race and pupils to dilate, preparing to take action.

ANXIETY can be debilitating. Heart palpitations, dizziness, nausea, diarrhea, insomnia, anger, depersonalization, extreme panic, clenched jaws, muscle spasms, lack of oxygen, and the strongest feeling of impending doom imaginable. Obligations because impossible. Simple tasks become increasingly difficult. Talking takes all of one's energy.

STRESS is normal, and everyone experiences it regularly.

ANXIETY is not, and only 1.5% of the US population is believed to have diagnosable anxiety.

So PLEASE. Next time you or someone else uses the word "anxiety" in place of "stress", think about what that is doing. That is belittling a serious mental illness that is not even in the same zipcode as just 'being stressed.'

I'm not saying you have to be diagnosed with an anxiety disorder to experience it, because so many go undiagnosed. If you experience symptoms of anxiety for at least 6 months then you should absolutely TALK to someone and consider your options. Anxiety is an awful monster, but you're stronger than it. So am I.