You’re not a bad friend…

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but your depression doesn’t make you a bad friend. Your anxiety doesn’t make you a bad friend. Your bipolar doesn’t make you a bad friend. Your OCD doesn’t make you a bad friend. Bottom line—your mental illness does NOT make you a bad friend.

It’s easy to look back and reflect on all the birthday brunches you skipped. All the bonfires you didn’t attend. All the nights at the bar you declined. All the things you skipped out on and feel shitty about yourself.

But you’re not a shitty person and you’re not a shitty friend. You carry a heavy load and sometimes staying sane means saying NO.

I’ve lost plenty of friends over the years because of my depression. Those friends didn’t understand that it’s not that I don’t want to celebrate them—it’s that I put an insane amount of energy into putting on a face during the whole work week to appear “normal”, that faking one more smile on the weekend seems literally impossible.

I’m exhausted, feeling beaten down, and by the way, each day I go ten rounds with the negative voices to keep them at bay.

So, saying “no” to protect your peace doesn’t make you a bad friend. It makes you human.

Don’t guilt yourself into thinking it’s your fault those friendships/relationships ended. The real ones won’t ever leave.

Love,

Me ♥️

Supesss positive.

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 🖤

Warrior

Hiiii.

 

So, I had super mixed feelings writing this post. Part of me felt like doing a hair flip. And the other part of me felt like I wanted to crawl in a hole and cry.

 

Let me preface this by saying that I do not work at a school, or for the government, or for any institution where this could cause me to get fired…I think.

 

So, I am a very open person (hence, the public blog I write about my Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder) and this applies to work as well. I help a lot of our employees (who technically are my students) who suffer from anxiety by providing them with anxiety fidgets and other coping skills to help them combat their issues throughout their employment, and honestly in life in general.

 

A student who is preparing for their licensing exam approached me this week about coping skills. They said, “How do you combat all of the adversity you face? What do you do to help keep your anxiety at bay? I’ve seen you keep your cool in times that I could not.” I was awestruck, and it took me a hot minute, but I conjured up the best response i could. I simply stated, “Time. Just time. I’ve been dealing with this for as long as I can remember and have been diagnosed for over a decade. I figured out how to handle my shit over time and by making A LOT of mistakes.” There is no recipe that works for everyone when it comes to anxiety and/or depression. I gave him all of the tips and tricks that I could think of. All of the little things that help calm me down. The deep breathing, the positive mantras, the essential oils, the rescue remedy, everything. I don’t know if any of it will help him, but he doesn’t have 12 years before his exam to learn how to wrangle this beast, so I armed him with the quickest and most effective solutions I could think of.

 

But that’s the part that NO ONE remembers. Last week, I wrote about wearing a mask ALL THE TIME and the one time I take my mask off, it’s like I’m a leper who should be burned at the stake. Each year that I get further away from my cutting, my medication issues, my weight issues, everything, the stronger I get, but the more forgetful everyone around me gets. They forget the struggles, they forget the issues, they forget all of the stuff I hide on a daily basis. It’s almost like people think that I’m fixed. I’m cured. I no longer have depression and anxiety.

 

Now, I’m not a complete selfish idiot. I know it’s human nature to forget what’s not right in front of us, but for me, my depression and anxiety are NEVER not right in front of me. They NEVER go away. My symptoms, my struggles, my issues, my insecurities; they’re all right there. And they always will be. I truly don’t expect people to think about my issues all the time, ’cause damn would that make for a super depressed world. I just wish people knew that this doesn’t just go away. That for most of us, this will NEVER go away.

So, no. I’m NOT a survivor. I’m a W A R R I O R.

 

Love,

Me ❤

Mask Off

Hi.

 

Yes, I did choose that title because I listened to Future on my way home, and NO, this post is NOT about what he raps about. It came on my Spotify for a reason, and I thought it would be appropriate seeing that Halloween occurred this week as well. So, let’s get to it.

 

Ever feel like you’re so…EXTRA…that you can’t keep your cool. You’re extra sad, extra mad, extra overwhelmed, extra any negative emotion you can think of that you LITERALLY want to explode. Or implode. Either or. That was me today. It’s been a LONG week. So, long, that it’s honestly felt like two work weeks worth in one. And it’s been like that for a few weeks now.

 

It’s safe to say that I am a “Yes Woman”. And I’m fully aware and acknowledging of that. I do NOT LIKE saying no when people ask me to help them with something. If I think it’s at all possible, I will say yes to help that person out. Well, I mayyyyyy have taken on one too many things this week. Even when I woke up today, I was done. So, by the time I actually got to work, I was SOOOO done. I managed to somehow get through the day without totally blowing up or breaking down, but my mask was DEFINITELY off. And people could tell. I pride myself on being able to “black box” things and help pick others up 99% of the time, but that 1% that I can’t, it’s completely obvious. And I don’t know how to change it. I’m either hiding everything or nothing.

 

It’s so freaking cliché, but there’s a quote about being the one who helps pick everyone else up, even when YOU’RE the one who’s broken the whole time. I feel like that’s me. And that 1% of the time when I can’t be the one to pick everyone else up, it’s like I’m being too much to handle. I’m being unreasonable. I’m being too EXTRA. And that’s really freaking hard. People don’t realize the weight I carry by wearing my mask every damn day. And the one day I can’t seem to hold it up to my face, you judge, you get upset, you huff and you puff, and you show your disappointment. Not only is my depression making it hard to want to put one foot in front of the other, but my anxiety of letting everyone down and letting them see me is almost unbearable.

 

So, to the one who wears their mask every day, I’m telling you IT’S OKAY to take your mask off. Scream into the steering wheel, cry into the pillow, punch the punching bag. IT’S OKAY. Let it out. Forget about those people who judge you, scorn you, or become disappointed with you. If they can’t/won’t be there for you on your % days, they don’t deserve you at your 99% days.

 

So, don’t bottle it up. Let everything out. End that % day and fall asleep before you fall completely apart. Then wake up the next day and get back to your 99%. Let’s do this.

 

Love,

Me ❤