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

Is Anxiety a Real Illness? {Pt 1}

"Stop worrying so much."

"Just don't think about it."

"How are you this upset over such a small thing? It's not a big deal."

"Why can't you hang out ever?"

"You've missed too many days of work."

"Other people have it so much worse and aren't this upset about it."

If you struggle, or have ever struggled with anxiety, you have probably heard most if not all of the above phrases multiple times throughout the course of your life. I'm sorry for that.

It would be fantastic if everyone could truly and deeply understand what each and every one of us that struggle with anxiety experience on a day-to-day, usually minute-to-minute basis. Unfortunately, this is simply not possible! In order to truly empathize with a sufferer, one must know what anxiety really feels like.

It is for this reason that I am relieved that most of my loved ones do not understand what I deal with--I would never in a million years wish anxiety upon anyone. 

The purpose of this post is not to try to explain what an anxiety disorder is like to someone that does not understand. While I see value in those types of posts I ultimately do not see the stigmas, misconceptions and judgements surrounding anxiety simply going away because someone read an article that describes what a panic attack is like.

I wish for those who do not understand to simply know just that--you do not understand. Since you have no valid way to compare what generalized anxiety, social anxiety, or a panic attack really feels like, you have no means to judge these experiences. You can try to compare anxiety to stress and say, "Oh, yeah, I had a lot of anxiety last night over that psych test." In reality, you are comparing an uncomfortable stressful experience to a real mental illness. You are making light of something that is debilitating and dangerous for many people...

...Which brings me to the crux of this post--is anxiety a real illness?

PHYSICAL

Usually when we think of illness we think of the flu, a cold, pneumonia, maybe even cancer. This is because illness is typically associated with physical symptoms. 

Fatigue, irritability, muscle tension/aches, trembling, twitching, being easily startled, trouble sleeping, sweating, nausea, diarrhea, irritable bowel syndrome, headaches... these are just a few physical manifestations of anxiety (1). Personally, I experience fatigue, irritability, sensitivity to sound, trouble sleeping, sweating, nausea, extreme stomach upset, IBS, headaches, loss of breath, shaking, feelings of impending doom, confusion, passing out, numb legs, memory lapses, and more. 

People with chronic physical illnesses such as heart disease, respiratory disorders and GI conditions (like myself) often struggle with anxiety and in many cases, the anxiety was the loaded gun to developing the chronic illness. These diseases are far more difficult to treat when the sufferer struggles with anxiety; thus, the symptoms become worse and in many cases they die sooner (2). 

By simply examining the physical symptoms of anxiety it is evident that the quality of one's life is very drastically compromised. 

MENTAL

I have been told by loved ones that I should not consider myself mentally ill because I have anxiety. (I also struggle with depression, OCD, PTSD, and I am in lifelong recovery from an eating disorder...but the anxiety, for whatever reason, means that I am not mentally ill.) 

Aside from the fact that I have no shame in saying that I struggle with mental illnesses because again, a mental illness is as real as a physical one and not any easier, the notion that anxiety disorder is not a legitimate mental illness infuriates me. 

My entire life has been shaped by my anxiety. Anxiety affects nearly every aspect of my life. All of my years of schooling were driven by perfectionism and worry and fueled by panic attacks. I've spent more hours in the bathroom dealing with GI issues than I have hours sleeping. Anxiety was the root of my eating disorder, it perpetuates my OCD behaviors and worsens my PTSD episodes. Anxiety kept me in an abusive relationship, caused me to act out in impulsive ways, and kept me up all night every night for almost two years. Anxiety has made my entire year struggling with chronic illness a living hell and has made my physical symptoms of my illness magnify tenfold. It has driven me to rock bottom and made me almost end my life on various occasions. Anxiety is the most abusive partner I could ever ask for in my life, and I cannot get rid of it. 

"There may be times when your worries don't completely consume you, but you still feel anxious even when there's no apparent reason. Your anxiety, worry or physical symptoms cause you significant distress in social, work or other areas of your life. Worries can shift from one concern to another and may change with time and age" (1). 

When someone tells me (with good intentions, I presume) that I don't have a real mental illness like schizophrenia or psychosis and that I can get through this, I feel extremely invalidated, misunderstood, and alone. Anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and all other mental illnesses are extremely crippling to live with and should never be ranked in order of "best to worst" to deal with. This is not helpful nor is it conducive to recovery. 

Generalized anxiety disorder is a complex illness. It is caused by many factors-- biological, environmental, and psychological. Personally through my work in therapy I have been able to identify the main causes of my anxiety, but I still struggle with it every single day. I am working on managing my symptoms while also trying to re-train my brain.

I'm not saying that those with anxiety disorders should look at themselves as victims and simply just give up and give in to the disorder. Absolutely not. I work every day toward recovery--meditation, journaling, therapy, mindfulness and more. There are ways to manage anxiety but it is TOUGH work and it's not a quick fix. I assume I will struggle with this for the rest of my life because I have struggled with it for 22 years now! That's okay. I'll get through it. But the point is that it is REAL.

And if you don't understand, just understand that you don't understand. Don't say things to your loved one that imply that others have it worse, they need to stop worrying, they should just get up and go, work out, eat better, etc... just don't. I think they are probably well aware that they need to stop worrying and wish they could just kick anxiety out of their brain forever. 

{Check back soon for Part 2: Is Depression a Real Illness?}

References:

(1) http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/generalized-anxiety-disorder/basics/definition/con-20024562

(2) http://www.health.harvard.edu/staying-healthy/anxiety_and_physical_illness

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 ;)

Read This If You're Falling Behind in Life

I know the feeling. The feeling that everyone else is ahead of you. The feeling that everyone else is doing big, fantastic things with their lives but you aren't. 

This feeling comes and goes for me--sometimes it is subtle, and other times it's almost unbearable.

I started college at 17, and even when I graduated in only 3 1/2 years I felt like everyone else was still ahead of me. I felt like I wasn't doing enough. I felt like I wouldn't ever be enough, and my constant trying was of no use.

Now as I see friends and old classmates my age and even younger getting married, starting families, traveling the world...the feeling of not being as far along in my life as I should be intensifies.

I should be married! (Thinks the girl with no boyfriend.) I want babies! (Thinks the girl who can't keep a plant alive.) I want to travel the world and see amazing places while I'm young! (Thinks the girl who has been ill for 6 months, barely able to leave bed some days.)

I'm about to tell you something only because I need to remind myself.

We all have different stories. We all are shaped by different events in our life--those we choose, and also those that choose us. It would be impossible for every single person to be on the same life path.

Aside from the fact that social media makes others' lives appear perfectly seamless, put-together, and successful, there is also the reality that they're just different.

Can you imagine how boring it would be if you walked into a library full of books, only to find that every single book was exactly the same? The books looked different, sure, but upon opening each and every book you found that the words were identical--the stories the same. 

Those people who get married at 19 aren't any 'farther along in life' than the person who is still in college working toward a degree. They're also not farther along than the person who is still saving to go to college, or even the person that decided college wasn't for them.

The person who gets a 9-5 job straight out of college isn't farther along in life than the person who decides to take a year off to travel the world. They're also not farther along than the person who spends a year doing countless interviews but can't seem to catch a break.

Those that struggle with addiction, illness, injuries, and traumatic life changes are not miles behind those who are coasting along. They're just in the middle of their story's conflict. Like any good story, the resolution will come.

There is no such thing as being 'far ahead' or 'farther along' in life because we cannot read the whole story yet. I always was the kid reading ahead to the end of the book, so this really bums me out.

There is no sense in feeling like we should be doing more, accomplishing more, or be at a different place in our lives because that's simply not how it works. (Sorry.)

I'm not saying we shouldn't set goals, work hard, and strive to better ourselves. I am saying that we are where we are in this very moment because that's just how our story goes.

You're not falling behind in life. You just have a different story.

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. 

What Really Matters Doesn't Really Even Matter

I find it both interesting and disturbing that often, the things we think about, stress about and make ourselves sick over are the least important things in our lives.

So many people make their lives about weight loss and fitness--sometimes this escalates to a place of obsession and disorder. Sometimes the damage is irreversible without extreme intervention and help. Sometimes this causes them to burn out and rebound in the opposite direction. All of the time, it causes shame, guilt, and unhappiness.

So many of us spend 85% of our waking hours focused on how we physically appear to others or how we portray ourselves on our various social media platforms--in general, we are extremely hyper-focused on what others may think of us. 

Far too often we make ourselves sick over getting everything done. We wake up with a "To Do" list that competes with a Tolkien novel. Unless we check off every item on that list we view ourselves as a failure. We weren't as productive as we could've been--as we should've been.

We always want the next best thing--the newest phone, nicest clothes, trendy accessories, ridiculously priced celebrity lip kit...

We stress about the money that we need to attain all of these luxuries that are no longer viewed as luxuries--no, they're now necessities. We need these things in order to thrive. In order to show the world that we mean something. 

The cleanest, most non-GMO, organic, vegan lunch. The flat stomach and huge round butt. The big plump lips. The designer clothes and shoes. The perfect Instagram aesthetic. The whitest teeth and softest, longest hair. The fastest car. The 5-day juice cleanse that really should just come with a warning or an adult diaper. The most followers. The perfect job. The tannest skin. More. More. More!

I find it so very intriguing that the things we place the most focus on are the things that do not matter.

Imagine if we all stressed over the amount of good deeds we did that day instead of how terrible our new haircut looks?

Picture a world where people have extreme anxiety over the fact that many people on this planet are starving, dying of disease, and homeless, instead of anxiety over an acne breakout or a text message with no response. (Or worse: 'K')

Pretend that we spent our free hours writing letters to those we miss, spending 100% quality, undivided time with family and loved ones, or serving those in need rather than scrolling through Instagram, online shopping for more things to stress about, and working overtime to make more money to BUY more things to stress about.

What if we simply took all of the wasted time, energy, and mental strain that we place on these unimportant things and replaced them with lovely, beautiful, meaningful things?

Your body, your possessions, your social status...none of these things will be with you when you die. Heck, they won't even be here next year, because we are always changing, evolving, growing...

Spend less time focused on the things that do not matter. Spend more time doing things to enrich your soul and the souls of those around you. When you do this, you will find that the things that really mattered before are a grain of sand on the beach of our lives. When you do this, you will find happiness without even searching for it. 

The sooner we can realize that what 'matters' doesn't really even matter, the sooner we can be happy. The sooner we can actually live our lives. The sooner we can be free.

Why it's So Important to Own Your Story

Are you aware that you're the only 'you' on the planet? You probably are aware of this, but I figured I would remind you.

Just in case.

You have a story. Since you're the only one like you, your story is different than EVERYONE else's story.

It's very easy to hide and protect our stories like sheltered children. It's easy not to share with others the things that we tirelessly struggle with just because it's hard and we don't really like being vulnerable. Being vulnerable means we can get hurt, and that's not fun.

Just because it's easy, does that mean it's what we should do? HECK TO THE NO.

It is so crucial for us to share our stories and OWN them. Do you know how many people you can help simply because you decided to speak up? (I'll answer that by quoting Mean Girls: the limit does not exist!)

When you try to pretend that your story is not your own, you are selling yourself short of the power to write an amazing ending. When you lose power as writer of your story, you give up ownership; thus, someone else will continue your story for you. It's going to get published one way or another. Wouldn't you like to have a say in the plot, the climax, and the resolution? (Maybe pick a Prince Charming as well? Eh? Eh?)

We try to put labels on ourselves when in reality we are not simply one thing or two things or even ten things. You see it all the time on social media, because so many sites ask you to write a bio for yourself...how many times do you see "Becca // Fitness // Clean Eating // CPT // Dog Lover" in an Instagram bio?! You're limiting yourself, Becca. YOU'RE MORE THAN A CLEAN EATING DOG LOVER! 

Don't you want the power to be anything? To change your story? Before you can do that, you must own your story. Share it. Accept and embrace it. It's yours! Good or bad--it's yours.

I'm not saying you must share your story with a frighteningly large amount of people on the Internet like myself and many other writers out there. I'm just saying share it. Whether it's with your church, your friends, your family, your co-workers...just share it.

"When we deny our stories, they define us.
When we own our stories, we get to write a brave new ending."

- Brene Brown, Rising Strong

What Makes You Think You're So Special?

What makes you think you're so special?

What makes you think that you're different? Unique? An exception to the rules? 

Why do you think that everyone else deserves happiness but you don't? Why do you invariably sell yourself short of the wonderful things that life has to offer because you don't believe you're worthy?

Why do you allow your brain to lie to you? To make you feel small?

Why do you assume that everyone else is capable of being loved but you are not? Is it because you think you are different? Unique? An exception?

Why do you read the tales of others who find happiness and create exquisite lives and tell yourself that it is simply not attainable for you?

Why do you continue engaging in self-destructive behaviors despite the lack of fulfillment--the desolation it leaves in your soul?

Why do you compare yourself to everyone else and categorically place yourself below them?

Why is it okay for you to cater to others' wants and needs, yet neglect and destroy your own? Why is it fine to lift up others but kick yourself down?

Is it because you think you're different? Unique? An exception?

What makes you think you're so special?

...

The ironic and inescapable narcissism of depression breaks my heart.

You are special. But not in the way that you think.

You are so special, in fact, that you deserve the utmost amount of happiness in the universe. You can attain the same joy and love that you view in the lives of others.