You matter. You matter. YOU MATTER.
Make the call. Send the text.
It might not seem worth it right now, but trust me, just do it. Reach out. Ask for help.
Hell, message ME.
Don’t let that darkness consume you. You are so damn worthy.
Call- 1-800-273-8255
Love,
Me
Hey.
So, I was reading through quotes on Pinterest, per usual, and came across the quote that read, “Yesterday is heavy. Put it down.”
And I had seen this quote before, but for some reason it hit me hard this time when I read it. Not because yesterday (or today for that matter) were heavy, but because all of 2020 has been freaking heavy.
Like damn. It’s been hard for a lot of people. Everyone has had their own struggles. Whether it’s been losing a job, losing a loved one, or just the tragedy that is 2020 this shit has been HEAVY.
The problem is, we can only take things one day at a time. And although each day we can “put down yesterday”, it’s hard to “put down” a whole year…
We’re carrying around the responsibility of wearing masks when doing our shopping. We’re carrying around the fear of the virus. We’re carrying around the guilt of privilege. We’re carrying around fear o cops. We’re carrying around the fear of the Civil War Part 2. We’re carrying a lot of shit that most of us have not had to deal with, or at least deal with at this magnitude.
Now, I’m not saying that these burdens aren’t ours to carry. All I’m saying is I feel you. I hear you. I see you. You’re not alone in carrying this load. In times like this, we need to come together like a bunch of garden ants to carry this heavy load TOGETHER. Separating ourselves is the last thing we need right now.
Whether that’s coming together virtually, or even physically, I think the ability to not feel alone is more important than socially distancing (unpopular opinion, I’m sure) right now. We need to lean on each other and know we have each other’s backs.
So, if you made it this far, first, thank you. Second, just a reminder that you are loved. You are worthy. You matter.
Love,
Me
Hi.
Lately I’ve been feeling seriously stuck. Stuck in how I’m feeling about the world. Stuck in how people say we should be acting, reacting, thinking, advocating, fighting, rioting, etc.
I’m stuck in the middle. Stuck between feeling passionate and feeling muted. I have really strong feelings about shit that’s going on these days, but with everything going on, I don’t feel like I have the right to share it. But because I’m not sharing it, it comes off like I don’t care. But I do care. I care a lot about all the shit that’s likely to start a Civil War Pt. 2. But I want to keep those feelings to myself because I don’t feel like arguing. I don’t feel like being beaten down by people with opposite opinions. Everyone has an opinion, and I care about everyone’s opinion, but I don’t want to be suffocated with it—which is all that happens when you share your opinion on social media.
You’re like a metaphorical punching bag getting the shit beat out of you, while also throwing yourself in front of punches aimed at your friends and family who are also trying to respectfully share their opinions as well. Frankly, I’m over it. And I have been for a while. I don’t remember the last time I shared anything political on my pages, and I don’t plan on sharing anything political for a long time to come.
It’s not worth the bullying. It’s not worth the pain. It’s not worth the tears. It’s not worth the anxiety attacks. And it’s not worth the BULL SHIT people put you through when you try to express your opinion.
Because in reality, everyone has an opinion, but no one wants to hear it—they just want to brainwash you with their opinion that they deem factual.
So, here I am. Stuck in the middle. With lots of passions and nowhere to express them.
So, if you feel stuck in the middle, I hear you. I see you. I feel you. Your opinion matters. You matter.
Love,
Me ♥️
Hi.
So, earlier today I saw on Facebook someone I am friends with posted a status that read, “What would you tell your 18 year old self?”
And that stopped me in my tracks. I’m not quite sure why it hit me the way it did, but it did.
It really got me thinking, “What would I tell 18 year old me?”—Who at this time would be working her butt off getting ready for her first year of collegiate lacrosse, had recently been broken up with by her high school boyfriend, and who was leaving behind the state and everyone inside of it that she has known her whole entire life. What would I tell this sad, yet excited, yet terrified girl to remember as she climbed the mountain of the next few months?
First semester of freshman year of college would turn out to be one of the most challenging of my whole life so far (but that’s a story for another day…) So, hindsight being 20/20, what would I say to this young, naïve girl? After some thought, here’s what I would tell her…
1. 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑯𝒀.
2. 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑫.
3. 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑩𝑬 𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑷𝒀.
4. 𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹.
5. 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑷𝑶𝑷𝑼𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑫𝑬𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼.
I don’t say any of these things to change my path. I met one of my best friends that first semester. I learned a lot about trust, doing what I want FOR ME, standing up for myself, and not taking any shit from anyone. I don’t regret a thing, and wouldn’t change that semester for the world, but these were things I wish I could have reminded this young girl.
What would you tell your 18 year old self if you could? Not to change your future, just as a guardian angel to give some guidance?
Love,
Me ✌🏼
Hi.
Earlier this evening I had someone ask me how I stay positive all the time.
I told her years and years of practice in turning the negative thoughts positive. Training my brain. And that’s not completely false. But it’s also not completely true.
The truth is I’m not positive all the time. Matter of fact, I’m positive like 30% of the time. And that 30% turns up on social media.
The other 70% is mainly in my head and it’s some heavy shit.
Having depression SUCKS. I know I’ve said this sooooo many times. But it’s the truth. I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.
This is going to be a long one, so I hope you’re ready…Here goes nothing. My “positivity” started with middle school bullying.
Yeah, yeah. I know. Everyone was bullied. I’m just not strong enough to hold up to the “poking fun”. Or, it’s middle school—why do I still care? Think what you want, but this was so much more than “poking fun” and it’s not something an impressionable 12 year old just gets over.
I’m crying as I’m writing this because it wasn’t until so many people asked me about my positivity that it really made me think where it came from.
Back in middle school—7th grade to be exact—I had one of the worst years of my life. Sounds dramatic, and maybe I’m being over dramatic, but it’s my trauma—I’m allowed to feel that way. ANYWHO, I had these “friends” in middle school. They were all a lot smarter than me and didn’t have to study nearly as hard to get A’s (or sometimes B’s). These “friends” partnered with my perfectionism and anxiety weren’t a great match. Hindsight is always 2020, right?
I remember it like it was yesterday. We had a huuuuuuge biology exam coming up and I was seriously stressing. It was known to be “the hardest test in all of middle school”. Looking back, it really wasn’t that bad, but for someone with test anxiety and normal anxiety and perfectionist tendencies, it was a big deal.
I shared with my “friends” how stressed I was, asked for study tips, and if we wanted to study together since we all were in the same class. They blew me off and I figured it was just because they were stressing too.
A few days later, we got our grades back on that exam (I got a C by the way—my first C on an exam) and I was crushed. I swore this was going to be my grace for the whole quarter and there would be no going to high school in GT/AP classes with this kind of grade. Regardless of the dramatics, I was crushed and I shared with my “friends” how upset I was.
The next day I found a note in my locker. And although I don’t still have that note, it went something like this…
“Alyssa. Shut the f*ck up. No one cares about you or your stupid grade. It was just a test and you’re being a b*tch about it. Stop being a slut. No one likes to listen to you. Just grow the f*ck up. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU, SO SHUT UP.”
There were a lot of other profanities, accusations, and honestly pure shit in this letter, but I figured you got the gist.
Did I mention I was in 7th grade? I had never even held hands with a boy, and I only said cuss words when I was jamming out to Avril Lavigne in my bedroom alone. And even then, I whispered them because I didn’t want to get in trouble.
It was after getting this letter that everything seemed to change for me. I started listening to “emo” music. Started wearing all black, and later that year started self harming through restricting my food/skipping meals. Then a few years later, I started cutting. (In case you haven’t read my previous posts, I haven’t self-harmed for the last 7 years.)
This is when I first remember feeling like other people saw in me the worthlessness that I saw in myself. And that realization destroyed me like a hurricane. It was this time I always came back to when I wanted to complain or bitch or just let off some steam. I kept remembering how “no one cares”. And how I should just “shut the f*ck up”.
Now, my conscious mind knows that I’m not worthless and that I’m not alone, but a million words later, THAT is why I’m so positive on socials. I don’t know how else to be. I spent most of my teenage—adult life being positive because I knew that no one wanted to hear my complaints and eventually the positivity stuck. Eventually I found that being a positive light for others helped me feel better about myself and I the positive mark I was leaving on the world.
So, in conclusion—a million years later—I’m positive for YOU. Because I want you to know you are loved, you matter, you are worthy, and I CARE.
Love,
Me 🖤
Hi.
I’m really not sure what I’m going to write about.
I’ve been feeling drawn to write for weeks, but just don’t know what to say because I don’t want your time to go to waste. But I think that my lack of what to say something that needs to be heard (read).
I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING. I don’t know how to feel with all the bull shit going on in the world. I don’t know to feel with all the depressing shit surrounding me. I don’t know how to feel about where I am in life. I don’t know how to feel about where our country is going. I don’t know where I am going next. I don’t know who is beside me now. And I don’t know who will be there beside me moving forward. I legit don’t know ANYTHING. And it SUCKS feeling this way.
It’s like feeling lost and alone and scared and mad and sad and confused ALL AT THE SAME TIME.
And I’m not saying all this to get messages saying, “You’re not alone.” And I’m DEFINITELY not saying all this to get messages about politics and other bull shit. I’m saying this because I can’t imagine I’m the only one out here feeling like this.
I’m close to tears (if not in tears) every single day. I’m so overwhelmed. I try to delete all the Toxic Tiffany’s off my timeline, but it’s hard. I know it’s all about having the right mindset and practicing gratitude. But when I can’t get out of bed in enough time to shower every morning, much less do affirmations and gratitude, I struggle. I know I need to get up earlier. I know I need to work out. I know I need to eat healthier. I GET IT, KAREN. But if you don’t have depression in the way I do, you don’t freaking get it. You’ll never get it. And truthfully, I hope you never do. I hope you never have to feel the pain and anguish I feel every freaking day. I wouldn’t wish this shit on anyone.
All this to say, you’re not alone babe. This rant probably didn’t accomplish anything for anyone other than letting me release my anxieties, but I do hope that someone, somewhere, reads this and feels a little bit of comfort that they’re not alone on this shitty ride called 2020 that we’re stuck on.
Take care of yourselves.
XX,
Me
Hey there.
I hope you are well. It’s been a minute since I’ve been here and damn have I missed it.
I had a friend ask me the other day why I stopped writing and I knew the answer. But once I said it out loud, I felt like a total jackass.
My answer was that I had started a new job and didn’t want my blog to be read by my new co-workers and boss, for fear that I’d get fired for it.
Like WHAT? Isn’t that what my whole blog is about? Isn’t that what I preach? Isn’t my main goal breaking the stigma? WTF was I thinking?
I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking. You can say it with a me…HYPOCRITE.
So, I tuned into my feelings again. I tuned into my depression again. I stopped blocking out all the negative thoughts. And I cried. Not a full blown panic attack, but just lots and lots of tears. And it SUCKED. It SUCKED feeling that vulnerable. It SUCKED feeling that hateful towards myself. It SUCKED feeling that weak and dumb and useless and unaccomplished and EVERY NEGATIVE FEELING ALL AT ONCE.
It was overwhelming letting all those feelings back in. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still feeling that overwhelm today too. That’s what people who don’t suffer from this anxiety and depression daily cocktail don’t understand. This shit doesn’t just go away. It LINGERS. And “getting over it” or being told, “You’ll be fine. You always are,” doesn’t help. I know I’ll be fine. But I also know I’m hurting right now. And that’s OKAY. I’ll be OKAY. But right now, I’m not. And I’m OKAY with that.
So, I stand here, in the mirror looking at a body I hate, with a soul I’m not too fond of right now either, and I get one of those oh, so joyous messages. “Hey girl! I have a fitness group starting up and I’d love for you to join us!”
Thanks, Cold Message Colleen. Thanks for the reminder that I look large in my photos. Thanks for the reminder that I’ve gained weight over the last couple months. Thanks for insinuating that I look like I should be working out 7 days a week with you and all your skinny friends.
I have BEEN that girl sending those copy and paste messages. I know those people don’t mean it like that, but what those people don’t understand is that you messaging the wrong person at the wrong time makes ALL of those self hatred feelings SO much stronger.
So, to the Cold Messaging Colleen’s of the world, work your business, but remember, all those people you’re cold messaging…they’re going through something. They’re fighting a battle you have NO idea about and your copy and paste messages just might hurt them more than help.
Love, Me
“I’m just not one to air my dirty laundry.”
That’s what someone told me a little over a week ago in regards to my blog.
I had already had a…tough… day. It was my last day at my old job. And it was absolutely my time for that chapter of my life to end, but it’s tough to leave people who you spent 50+ hours a week with for the last 3 years. Just to put it out there, the first week at my new job was absolutely incredible. But this post isn’t about that.
Anyway, after this tough day someone said to me, they don’t know why I do this (write in my blog). It’s just me airing my dirty laundry which is not what they would expect for me to do.
And when I got in the car to go home, I lost it. I started questioning everything. I questioned leaving my job. I questioned working my side business. I questioned writing my blog. I questioned all of the things that have made me who I am today.
And I almost deleted my blog.
I almost deleted the thing that provides me therapy and happiness and relief from how I feel. I almost deleted the thing that provides OTHERS with the comfort that they are not alone.
And then I said NO. I said, THIS is the reason that I do this!
Now, I don’t want this to be taken the wrong way because ALL of these are terrible and I would never wish them on anyone. BUT if I were a person with chronic physical illness writing a blog, I would be celebrated. If I were a mom with a baby in the NICU writing a blog, I would be comforted. If I were a heart surgery patient sharing my treatment story writing a blog, I would be supported.
Why is me as a person with mental illness and sharing my daily battle, writing a blog airing my dirty laundry? THIS is the stigma I am FIGHTING DAILY to destroy. Physical illness and mental illness are BOTH illnesses. EVERY FREAKING PERSON FIGHTS THEIR OWN BATTLES. Don’t discount one persons over another just because you can physically see their wounds.
I’m done being sorry for my depression. I’m done being sorry for my anxiety. I’m done being sorry for sharing my story.
Don’t give in to the shit society tells you is “not appropriate”. You don’t know how many lives you can save by sharing YOUR story and YOUR struggle. Don’t give up. Let’s DESTROY this STIGMA TOGETHER.
Love,
Me ❤
Hiii.
So, for months, maybe even a year now, my Psychiatrist has been telling me that I should see a therapist.
Don’t get me wrong, I 100% support going to see and talk with a therapist. I saw my therapist for 8 years and I loved her!
But I also am no longer naive to my illness, as well as what I need, and what I can handle at any given moment. Being officially diagnosed with depression and anxiety for 12 years, and suffering for much longer, I know what I need, when I need it. I’m not trying to sound like “I know it all”. Because I don’t. But, I also know that having to leave work early once a week to go to therapy would just cause me more stress and anxiety than talking through anything would help. It would be a complete moot point.
Anyways, I was talking with my Psychiatrist during my most recent appointment about a week and a half ago, and I asked him what suggestions he might have for me. He (again) suggested therapy, but after explaining why that wasn’t an option at this moment, he told me one thing he knows will help. Laugher.
I nodded because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do, but I was skeptical to say the least. I thought to myself on the drive home, “Laughing? Really? Maybe I’ll watch some Scooby Doo or something and that will make me laugh.” The thing is, I didn’t remember the last time I truly belly laughed. Of course, being the squirrel that I am, the thoughts of laughing left my brain and I went on with my life as normal.
I went to work Monday, Tuesday, and a half day on Wednesday, and then left for Knoxville on Thursday. If you know me, you know how much I love travel and airplanes, but also how much I hate being away from my husband and pups. Well, I was anxious to fly alone to a state I’d never been to with a bunch of women I had only interacted with over social media. I told myself that I needed this. That God was trying to show me something by bringing me here, so I needed to take the time to follow His plan and listen to him. And holy cow did He have a plan for me.
I have not laughed as hard as I did this past weekend, and I have not felt as loved by a group of friends as I did this past weekend. And dang it did it feel good. I didn’t realize how long it had been since I had a full (long) weekend full of laughter. And to be honest, I didn’t realize how it had impacted me and my depression until I got home and went back to work.
I didn’t feel an ounce of depression while I was in Knoxville. Yes, I was sad and missed my hubby and puppers, but depression did not consume me for one single stinking minute. Laughter, love, friendship, and happiness consumed me while I was there.
Coming back and rejoining the reality that is work made me realize how much laughter had prevented all of the bad feelings from overcoming me. I don’t laugh at work. At my work, if you’re laughing, you’re distracted from working, and if you’re distracted from working, you’re wasting company money.
Now, I’m not saying to waste company money, but I am saying that you deserve laughter in your life. And if you spend 10 hours a day at work, all 10 hours shouldn’t be spent holding back tears praying for 6:00 to arrive.
Wherever it is, find your laughter and make it your reality, because it can help make all the difference.
Love,
Me ❤
Hiii.
I have been thinking for (literally) weeks about this post. I felt like a writer with writer’s block. No words I tried to form quite fit how I was feeling.
And then of course the thought of, “Well, what if this person, or that person sees it. I have to keep things PC.”
Well, fuck that. If I’m not being open, honest, raw, and real about how I’m feeling, then how the hell am I supposed to be fighting this stigma I am so determined to destroy?
So, here goes…
Guys, I’m drowning. I’m drowning in every freaking aspect of my life. And yes, that does sound dramatic, but it’s seriously all I can think about right now and for the past 8 weeks. I’m drowning at work. I’m drowning at home. I’m drowning walking through Target (and not in a good way). I’m drowning in anxiety. And I’m drowning in depression. D R O W N I N G, drowning.
And the funny thing about drowning is, people can ask you if you’re okay all they want, but when your head is being held under water, how to they expect you to respond? Sure, I’m good. Just choking on water and treading for my life, but no worries. Keep pouring MORE water on me. It’s cool. I got it.
People rarely seem to ask for favors or for help with the intention of you saying “no”. They ask because it’s polite. If you say no, then HOW RUDE ARE YOU? How DARE you not help out a friend, or a co-worker, or your spouse. What kind of person DOES THAT? A terrible one. That’s who.
When the fuck did it become merely courtesy to ask? Just PC to ask, although you’re truly disinterested in what the real answer is. You know you’ll get a “yes”, or that person will PAY for it. THIS is how we lose touch with the sea floor in the first place.
So, how are you supposed to stop drowning when more and more water is being poured on you, with no way to stop it? And even if you somehow manage to hold your head above water long enough to ask for a life vest you’re judged for even asking. “Can you believe she asked for a life vest? She’s so lazy”.
No wonder people shut down completely. The only survival skill we have left is to give up, and hope our body floats to the top of the current, so we can swim out of the riptide to safety.
If this is you, just about to give up and shut down completely, don’t. I’m here. I’m here with biggest and most buoyant life vest you can imagine. I’m here to help you. Even though I am not always sure I can help myself. I got the most buoyant one for a reason. We’ll share. It won’t be a Titanic replay. Let’s float to safety together.
Love Always,
Me ❤
keepthefaithinyourself 