if you can dream it, you can do it

I believe everything happens for a reason and that all things lead back to another. This evening I was in the same room as a talented country singer who happens to be the same country singer my mom used to listen to and thus, I began listening as well.

It wasn’t until I was lying in bed just now that I put this all together.

I never could have imagined my life would be what it is right now.

The idea and concept of recovery visits my brain from time to time and to be honest with you, I don’t fully understand recovery and how it works just yet (and maybe I never will fully understand it). What I do understand about recovery is that it’s not something one can easily walk through alone.

I’ve said many times and, I strongly believe it, that we as humans were not meant to do life alone. I don’t believe we were meant to experience the joys and low points of life without others to walk with us.
I’ve been reminded recently that recovery from any addiction is a lifelong process (and at times a battle) and this is kind of difficult for me to wrap my head around. “Lifelong”. Wow, that’s a pretty big word with a lot of depth to it and it kind of makes recovery intimidating. But recovery IS intimidating and it IS scary at times but I believe that’s part of the process.

I never really thought my self-injury to be all that severe because there were people out there hurting themselves more frequently and more intensely than I was. It’s not until I sit back and truly reflect on my story that I can see that my self-injury really was a problem.

Up until probably about nine months or so ago I always said that I don’t know if I wished I’d never started hurting myself because as dark as that time in my life was, it was crucial in shaping the person I am today. Lately I find myself wishing I’d never have started hurting myself, though. I think this goes back to recovery being a lifelong process and commitment.

One more thing that I’ve come to realize about recovery is that it’s a frustrating thing. The longer I’m clean, the more days that pass without hurting myself, the more frustrating it is when I do have urges.

Earlier this week one of my coworkers asked me if I’m ever in a bad mood and that question struck me as interesting because I know the struggles I live with daily and the hardships I’ve been through and yet apparently I don’t always let that show which I suppose is a good thing. I honestly don’t know when I became a person who tries to find the good in everything regardless of how big or small that good might seem. I don’t know exactly when I became the upbeat person I am today but I do know that it’s an interesting thing for me.

Sometimes I wonder how many people in this city would guess that I live with mental illnesses and have a history with self injury. And while one would think people not being able to guess these things would be good, I can’t help but be sad about it sometimes because I feel like I can’t turn to people if/when I need a friend.

I suppose recovery, and the process of such, would be easier if more people understood it and were more sympathetic towards it. Then again, I suppose anything worth something isn’t easy.

I was reminded last night that this is something I will be facing, dealing with, and living with for the rest of my life. Sometimes that really sucks.

Anxiety makes it really difficult to get things done and be productive at work :(

Sigh.

I’m ready to figure out what my deal is and what’s going on with me so that I can get back to a solid state of stability.

This post will be my best damn attempt at honesty that my brain and body can muster right now and I warn you before I dive into the world of honest that some, most, or hell even all of it might not make sense. But in all honesty (hey, look, the honesty is already starting) I don’t give a fuck because these are my words and my thoughts and circular as they may be at times, they are real and to me that’s all that matters.

I’d be lying to you if I told you that things were peachy and that I was loving life right now. To be completely real with you I’ve been finding myself more and more discontent with my life. For as long as I can remember I’ve had this inkling inside of me that I was meant for something big. I’m sure I can log into my Livejournal account (yes, I had one of those) and find posts where I claimed to know that I was meant for something so much bigger than “this tiny college town” (that college town being Gainesville, Florida and that college being the University of Florida). And here I am, just shy of exactly 6 years after my high school graduation and 5 months after my college graduation in Nashville, Tennessee and guess what? I GOT OUT OF THAT TINY COLLEGE TOWN!

And almost 3.5 years after moving out of that tiny college town I find myself with a heavy heart weighed down with discontent. You see, back in high school I claimed to believe that I was meant for something so much bigger than a tiny college town could offer me and yet as a college graduate I can’t help but feel a similar feeling to the one I felt during adolescence. The only real difference this time around being the fact that the tiny college town is no longer part of that feeling. So what exactly am I getting at? Well to tell you the truth, I’m trying to say that I’ve been experiencing a feeling recently  that I can describe only as a stirring in my soul. Call me cheesy for describing something as a “stirring in my soul” and tell me that I sound like an old great grandmother. That’s fine because I’m sure that I have been called far worse by others thus far in my life. And remember earlier in this post where I mentioned not giving a fuck because these are my words and my thoughts and that they’re real? Yeah, I still don’t give a fuck even if you tell me that I sound like an old great grandmother.

So I no longer reside in that tiny college town (hell, I’m no longer a resident of the state that city is in) but yet I can’t seem to shake this lingering feeling of being meant for something bigger. I, like every other person on this planet, am living a story and my story is something that I believe to be important. I believe that my story, like everyone’s story, is one that needs to be shared and needs to be heard. My story involves pain of both the internal and external kind. And my story involves things that I am not necessarily immediately proud to admit. But ultimately I will admit to the things that make up my story because like I said, I believe that my story is important.

I type these words as a 24-year-old who earned a college degree just shy of five short months ago. And as I’ve already mentioned tonight, I’ve had this overwhelming feeling of discontent lately. And this feeling of discontent has lead to some reflection (as unintentional as it may have been). And at some point recently (part of me wants to say that it first happened today, but for all I know it could have first happened a few days ago because the minutes and hours and days and nights all tend to blur and blend together when I’m in one of these funks like I have been for some time now) the thought, “I am the way that I am for a reason” has come to my mind frequently.

Well duh, I’m going to be the way that I am for a reason - what a silly thing to think. Isn’t everyone the way that they are for a reason? Yes, everyone is the way that they are for a reason. But let me dive into this thought that has come into my brain recently. Every individual day of my life, and every event that I’ve gone through, has shaped and formed and molded me into the person that I am today. And before I continue, I want to claim that I am a pretty badass person regardless of what my words may imply at times.

So I am the way that I am for a reason. And I do the things I do for a reason. And so we dive into some of the things that I do and the reason for such:

- I believe so strongly in stories because sometimes they’re all we have to hold onto.

- I believe that life is important because I know the immense weight and strength it can take to make it through even the next minute let alone the rest of the day.

- I believe that everyone has a purpose and a reason because at one point in my life I didn’t believe this. At one point in my life I became so engulfed by the overwhelming lie that my life wouldn’t get better and that the bitch of a hole called depression would only continue to grow deeper with myself sinking down with it.

- I love bright colors because for a long time I couldn’t see them and I didn’t believe that they existed. For a long time I was consumed by darkness and being able to know that color, especially bright color, exists is important to me. REMEMBERING THAT BRIGHT COLORS EXIST IS IMPORTANT TO ME.

- I am obsessed with Disney because I believe in the idea that dreams can come true.

- I am child-like because I believe that we can learn a great deal from children and I believe that all too often children grow up into adults who forget that they were once children and that they once saw the world as something magical.

- I have the word “hope” tattooed on my body with an anchor above it because sometimes the only thing that I can manage to believe in is hope. And sometimes trusting in the concept and idea of hope is the only thing that keeps me anchored to the belief that I can make it through this minute, this hour, this day.

Those are some of the things that exist in my life and in my soul and the reasons for such.

For as long as I can remember I have had this understanding of needing to look out for myself and that, as much as I may hate it at times, I need to come first. Mental illness is a very real part of not only the person I am but also the reason that I am me. I live with clinical depression and have lived with it for over ten years now and clinical depression is something that I will be living with until the day that I die. And I have spent a lot of time being angry at this fact. I have spent a good bit of my adolescence being frustrated that I can’t be “normal”, that I can’t be happy on my own, and wondering what the fuck I did to be like this. I have also spent a lot of time embracing my depression and accepting it as part of who I am and part of the reason for the way that I am.

So even now, after explaining a little bit of how and why I am the way that I am, I still find myself feeling discontent. And I don’t know what it’s going to take for me to feel content about my life and what I’m doing with it and where it’s currently at. I still feel like I am meant for big things and the kind of big that empower and help others. There are things that I believe so strongly about but I have yet to be able to find words that are appropriate enough to fully convey how strong my belief is. And perhaps that is what I find to be most frustrating of it all. Sometimes it feels like the only thing I can do that will convey my emotions is to scream but at the same time it feels like I won’t be able to scream it nearly as loud as it needs to be screamed. I suppose it’s somewhat of a catch-22, an endless cycle if you will. Or perhaps it’s similar to knowing where I want to end up and having no idea how to get there let alone where to start the journey.

And that is all the honesty that I can muster tonight.

Fighting the false thoughts that are trying to tell me that I’ve failed and that I never actually improved/got better.

I know that the act of reaching out in and of itself is proof that I’ve grown up and improved but this is difficult.

This week is quickly coming to a close and I’m at a loss for words. You know those times where you feel like you have so much emotion and so many words inside you that if you don’t share them with someone you feel like you might explode? That’s how I feel.

The only two problems with feeling this way right now is that it’s 12:31am which means that everyone is asleep or not online and I have so much inside of me that I’m not entirely sure I would know where to begin.

As I go to try and wrestle with my thoughts and feelings I leave you with a question that I am truly curious to know your answer to. Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

From time to time I wondered if you would understand it if I were to tell you that I was struggling and wasn’t able to go into work. The other day I found the answer in the comment that you made. I hope that one day you never have to go through this.

Step 1. Walk out and say “My name is _____ and I am an addict.”

Step 2. Watch as the entire rooms falls silent and all attention is focused on you.

This is what happened when Denny Kolsch stepped out onto the stage at Cannery Ballroom in Nashville, TN for the To Write Love On Her Arms event, Heavy and Light. If you know me you know that To Write Love On Her Arms is an organization that I hold very close to my heart and you know that Heavy and Light is an event that I look forward to every year.

On February 8th Denny spoke about needing to remember where he’s come from so as to not go back to that place. This is something that I agree with and is part of why I believe one is never truly recovered from addiction. I’ll use myself as an example.

I intentionally hurt myself for the first time just over 10 years ago and it’s a battle that I’ve been a part of ever since. As of tonight it has been over 2 years since I hurt myself last and while I wish I could say it’s been longer than that, I have to accept that I am not perfect. I can’t recall ever promising someone that I would never hurt myself again and I don’t think that is a promise I will ever make to anyone simply because I can’t look into the future and know for sure that I’ll never inflict physical pain upon myself.

I’m sure many people would disagree with me, but I believe that relapse is part of the recovery process. I believe that many times we become comfortable in our recovery and forget about how sneaky addiction can be. I think that if we always keep in the back of our minds the fact that we have been rescued from such a difficult place, we can continue to learn what recovery is about. I know that the urges and relapses will be fewer and further between the longer I’m in recovery, but I know that they won’t ever go away completely. In a tiny crevice somewhere in my brain lies the memory that at one time I found release in a destructive behavior and it is because of this that I believe I will always be in recovery.

I periodically struggle with feeling alone in this city. I know that I have people here who care about me and love me, but I don’t really feel like I have many people here who I can run to in those times of urges and anxiety. Recently I’ve been thinking about myself and the person that I am today and I wonder how people would react if they knew the struggles I go through and the mental illnesses I live with. I kind of fear that as I grow and as my time in recovery lengthens I will slowly lose the number of people I can turn to when the anxiety is bad and the urges return.

It’s when I think of this fear that I wonder where the line lies between dwelling on the past and bringing the past into the present in a healthy way. Is it even possible to bring the past into the present in a healthy way?

I’ve known the statistics on suicide for years now, but never have the numbers seemed more real than they did yesterday when one of my friends lost their neighbor to suicide and the world lost a country singer to suicide. The friend who lost his neighbor is one of my closest friends and one of the few people I trust enough to approach when I am struggling. This friend and I are extremely alike in that we believe and share the same views on many things. For example, we both believe in the power that words possess, we both understand the importance of reaching out and getting help in times of need, we both understand that hope is a very real thing and the list goes on.

My wish is that one day the large and powerful stigma that surrounds mental illness will become smaller much in the way that the stigma surrounding cancer has become smaller over the years. 

And until the stigma around mental illness is gone I will be a voice that speaks of the things no one wants to speak of. 

Call me a pessimist, but with each romantic relationship I’m around or able to observe, I find myself remembering the many reasons why I’m terrified of them and dislike them.

Caught the clock at 7:27 tonight. I don’t understand this and I’m not a fan.

I think about you far more than I’d like to admit.

I thought about sending you a friend request on Facebook tonight but then I realized I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

As much as I hate to say it because it will only make your ego bigger, I owe a lot of the person I am today to you. You left some pretty hefty scars that are below the surface and can be seen by very few.

I find myself catching the clock at 7:27 frequently and I wish I wouldn’t.

I wonder how you’re doing and what your life is like. If you ever got married and how that’s turned out for you. I wish we could sit down and catch up. I wonder if we could ever even be in the same room again or maybe those wounds will never heal and those scars never fade.

I can’t help but feel as though I’m going to wake up in the morning and be filled with dread and guilt and wish that the night before hadn’t happened. Being filled with dread and guilt and wishing that the previous night never happened is what the day after a night of relapse feels like for me. But I haven’t relapsed (nor do I intend to), so why do I feel like this?

I wish tonight could just be over and this headache gone already.

I’m learning that life is rather unpredictable. For example, I’m posting this from my phone while on a tour bus on my way to Hickory, NC. I didn’t know I would be on this bus until three days ago. I’m missing class and got my work shift covered in order to be here right now and that blows my mind.

It’s opportunities like these that remind me I fit in this industry.

Tonight has been one of those nights where I just have to ask myself “how is this real life? More importantly, how is this MY life?!?”

I don’t care who you are, this is NOT friendship!

When I was drunk I called you my best friend. Guess I should have left off the “best” part.

Sometimes I wish I could just fade out.

- This is exponentially more difficult on my own.
- Why don’t I have anyone here?
- I just want one person here who gets it and has the right words at the right times.
- Am I exaggerating this, is it actually not as difficult and heavy as I make it out to seem?
- People here know how significant tomorrow is, I just wish they would understand that anniversaries are some of the most difficult times, that today and tomorrow are going to be two of the hardest days for me this year, and that I need them, I need people.
- Ghosts come out the most when you’re alone
- I just wish someone would reach out to me and even ask just a simple “how are you doing?” or “are you feeling okay?”
- The warning signs are so easy to miss if you don’t know them or don’t know when they’re likely to show up.
- A lot of the times what prevents me from speaking up is the fear of being a burden or annoying.
- I also don’t always speak up because I don’t want to bring others down.
- I know that it’s bad when I start holding my breathe.
- Why am I so good at not eating sometimes?
- I want to reach out but don’t want to bother anyone.
- I wish I would have known that this would be a lifelong deal.
- I wonder how many people (if anyone) say something tomorrow or acknowledge that they understand the day is important and meaningful to me.
- Why do I sometimes feed into the stigma and believe that it’s not okay to not be okay?

I went to see The Perks of Being A Wallflower Friday night and walked out of the theatre a different person than I was when I walked in.

From this movie I learned that it’s okay to be dysfunctional and it’s okay to not be okay all the time.

I think the direction of my life began to shift a bit during the movie and I am surprisingly okay with this because there is something inside of me that feels as though really big things are on the horizon in my life, powerful things that matter and mean something significant.

I’ve said many times that I strongly believe everyone is living a story and every story is important and matters. I also believe that our stories serve a purpose that we don’t always know about. I think I might finally be figuring out what the purpose of my story is and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

If none of this made sense that’s okay because I’m exhausted but I had to get these words and thoughts down before bed :)

So my car broke down YET AGAIN today and honestly this is getting really old. There have been talks about potentially getting me a new car (well not new-new, likely used, but still a “new” car for me). I was online looking up used cars in Nashville and it was honestly making me a little anxious.

I was talking to a friend earlier via text and I mentioned to him that I kind of feel like there is something in the world that doesn’t want me to make it to 2 years and he told me “Don’t say that. You’re in control and you’re strong. You can do it. I believe in you.” That last sentence was one that punched me in the heart. “I believe in you.” Wow. Those are some mighty powerful words.

I sometimes wonder how “normal” people feel in the situations where it feels as though life is just throwing you one bad thing after another after another. I wonder what it’s like for someone who doesn’t live with depression, anxiety, and a history of self-injury to deal with those kinds of times. My friend pointed out that these situations just don’t affect “normal” people as hard as they affect people like me, that these conditions amplify the problems and make the spiral downward faster and harder.

This then got me to thinking about the stigma that still surrounds mental illness and what that stigma is based on. I feel as though the stigma stems from a lack of understanding. I think that all stigmas stem from this. To a person who doesn’t live with depression or anxiety or any other mental illness, it looks as though those with the mental illness is overreacting and can’t handle situations or events the same way.

I will be the first to tell you that I have used my depression and anxiety as a crutch at times. And at other times, more often than being a crutch, it really does affect my life. I get frustrated with myself for not being “normal” and not being able to handle certain situations the same way others can.

I think that out of anything related to mental illness, I wish that the stigma would stop. I wish that more people could actually understand the symptoms of mental illnesses, and accept them. Not all the symptoms of every illness, but the key/main symptoms of the more common illnesses. I wish that people could understand that those individuals living with mental illness have a different way of thinking, a different way of approaching situations, and that they have to ultimately look out for themselves andtheirwell-being. I wish that people could recognize just how important a gorgeous and beautiful day can be to a person living with depression. I wish that people could recognize that sometimes someone living with anxiety need to just avoid  the things that trigger the anxiety entirely. I’m not saying to avoid those things every time, just sometimes.

I believe that there is a difference between a badday and a difficultor hardday. Everyone has bad days and everyone has days that are difficult or hard and I think that for a lot of people living with mental illness those hard or difficult days are even more strenuous to get through. It’s just like what my friend pointed out when he said that these conditions amplify things.

Anxiety is high.

Emotions are intensified.

Today might be difficult.

….I’m less than a month away from 2 years.

Am I not supposed to take care of me and watch out for myself and do what’s in my best interest and what is best for my health?