Confession of a Depressed Mind

I had a couple dreams recently where I was about to slit my wrists, once in front of my family, once in front of my friends, but no one cared… people just got annoyed or yelled at me.

Don’t worry, I’m not actually suicidal.  I do feel bothered that I had these dreams though.

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August 12, 2017, Sat. @ 3.54am (technically 13)

#chroniclesofthechronic

Pt. 1 Overview

I feel like life keeps being really tough, and not just tough in the usual senses, but extra tough even when I’m just doing mundane, ordinary things. When people ask me what I did all week, sometimes I have to catch myself feeling sorry for myself, because I realize that my level of achievements can be considered small in comparison to others who are able-bodied and fast paced.  I can’t say anything exciting, but rather, I have to remind myself to be proud that each day, I meticulously planned out how to live in small increments of productivity and function, saving up energy to check off goals like laundry, cooking, remembering to drink water, and that I dragged myself out of bed and did these things, even though they were hard and do not match up to my level of ambition and what I would want to consider a “true” accomplishment.

My insomnia has worsened recently but I know why.  Hearing again that I need to see a lung transplant specialist wasn’t easy, but for some reason, this time a switch flicked in my head and I decided it was time to fully wrap my head around accepting doing the evaluations, no matter how strenuous that ordeal was going to be.  I constantly find myself wavering between moments of calmness and acceptance, almost contentedness, yet other times like last night, I lay awake in my friend’s guest bedroom, thoughts flying everywhere and causing an increasing panic in my head until I succumbed to the pill to aid me in sleep.


Pt. 2 Log In of the Day

What I originally intended to write about though, was happiness.  I had a rough week (what else is new, the usual levels are rough, rougher, and roughest), but today was a good day.  A solid, good day.

I had been worried that today would be bad, as usual. Yet it ended up being one of the best days I’ve had in awhile.  Friday night, we prepped hard for a dessert competition at fellowship, and even though we placed third, I felt pretty proud and we did bond with our team by working hard to produce a beautiful panna cotta.  And today, we went to dim sum and it was a lovely meal with a large group of people.  Then, I migrated back up north for another fellowship and met some people, and finally migrated back down where we spent a great night learning how to make fresh pasta and EATING it!!!  Seriously, the best pasta I’ve ever had… it was what I always imagined fresh pasta to taste.  Delicious, right amount of bite and sauce.  It was fun, and we had some sangria as well.  We also watched a bit of Master of None and the rest played card games.


Pt. 3 Insecurities on my Physical Capabilities, but also- Body Appearance

A crazy thing that happened recently is my weight gain.  I weighed around 92-95 lbs for the longest time, probably from all of college until now.  I weighed myself a few days ago, and each time it was the heaviest I’d ever been… first I hit past 100 and couldn’t believe my eyes… then I hit 103 within two weeks. I was getting a bit concerned… because even though I know I’m not concerned “fat”, I’m also now looking very “skinny fat” where the rest of my limbs are super bony, yet my stomach and cheeks are protruding…. I even have a muffintop.  Then I saw a few candid pictures of myself, and I was kind of horrified at my shape. First of all, my stomach protruded quite a bit around my lower abdomen area, but my legs were still super slim and lacking muscle… it reminded me of the Titan in “Attack on Titan” that was round and fat but stuck on a house with its long, super twig like legs.  I also have a TERRIBLE posture, and I guess from my tense muscles and all the stress of anxiety + breathing struggles, my shoulders are a bit risen up and hunched over, especially from the right side.  It really looked very unattractive to me.

I know that steroids do deposit fat differently for your body, and I guess I’d never been on it as much as I was in the past year, and particularly now that I’ve been on it for almost two weeks now to see if I can improve my lung function.  While I was never super concerned with my body appearance prior, I was never a super fan of my body either and just thought the major complaint was that I was too bony all over, especially my bony knees and lack of butt.  But now in addition, my lumpy waist and hunched shoulders just all in all are a mild devastation to me, psychologically.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt actual unattractiveness like this, even when I’m just in bum clothes and glasses and hair that hasn’t been washed in over a week…

Steps to take to stay determined:

  1.  keep working out and doing planks + gym as I can at least 2 times a week
    1. particularly, strengthen back and chest workouts, and legs… and arms… ok basically everything
  2. try to lessen sugar intake and eat more vegetables, fruit, and protein (find more delicious recipes + buy healthy foods)
  3. keep being productive in writing music for grad school
    1. sign up for GREs/ plan a date
    2. shoot emails to professors sometime in late September asking for recs
    3. keep doing research on other grad school programs
    4. follow up with Monica on online graphic design program
  4. do things to make yourself happy, like walk with Meg around neighborhood, hang out with friends
  5. TREAT YOSELF –>  bubble clay mask, hot  bath, hair treatment at salon, massage, leg wax/ exfoliation, clean make up
  6. Express yourself –>  continue improvising on piano, learning Chopin piece, also Photoshop + Illustrator (empowerment of chronically ill women <superhero with treatment mask>  <cute new kinds of hospital wear…>
  7. Google Analytics / Hubspot /Lynda Academy for digital marketing, etc.

 

 

 

July 19 Reprieve: Moment, Pause, Break

I been tryna keep busy, keep running, keep moving, but the second my mind slows down and tries to take a breath of calm, it jumps all over the place, and ends up running, but instead of with me, it runs away from me, spinning out of control, whirling, and I can’t chase it down or catch up to it.

Fear of other people, fear of myself, fear of being drained, fear of not being drained enough, fear of the future, fear of now, fear of not getting over from the past.

A moment, a pause, a break.  Don’t let it all break you.  Don’t let them hear your thoughts, see you spiraling like crazy, hitting the ceiling, bouncing from last year’s sorrows to revisiting the lingering moment of choked up hurt sitting in your room.

Sometimes I think it’s better to stay outside of the fishbowl, to peer in, interact, and pull back out to observe from a distance, but never be caught in the drama.  Then you stay in the honeymoon zone and don’t enter the disappointment zone.  Of how people let you down and reveal their true colors.  Oftentimes its scent turns more sour than what drew you in from a distance.  Don’t let them use you and throw you away like just another tissue paper.  Make your existence matter to them (although this sometimes feel like you’re fighting against the current).

How can what once felt like it was becoming home, feel suddenly once again as much of a stranger as when you first entered, except worse because you know that’s not how it’s supposed to feel?

Was it because I forgot my medication.  Is it because it’s that time of the month? (It’s not).  So… what is it?  Life.  lol.  Emotions.

She Needed a Hero

“She needed a hero, so that’s what  she became.”  -Pinterest somewhere

Sometimes, life gets to you.  And I think especially with people dealing with chronic illnesses, it can feel so constant and repetitive like a truck repeatedly running you over.

These days, as the weather gets colder and colder and we hit the 20s at night, I am more and more susceptible to darker thoughts of depression and wanting to give up and lay in my bed forever, to avoid all risks and perils of being outside.  I had a moment a couple nights ago where I realized it was food poisoning later, but that night I felt such discomfort and anxiety that I felt like I was going to lose my mind… I had been feeling this crazy anxiety all week, and insomnia was hitting me so hard again.  My body couldn’t relax, my thoughts were clouding my mind, and as much as I wanted to calm myself and tell myself that it was all temporary, just a bad night of nightmares mirrored in reality, I got scared with fleeting thoughts scattered into my brain of temptation.  The worst kind of temptation, where I thought it would be better to slit my wrists, drown myself, than endure more of this never-ending suffering.  And I knew I would never follow through with it, because at the end of the day, it does take just as much courage to end your life as it does to choose to keep going, and I picture images of my parents looking at me, horrified by how much work they invested to help me, and I failed them. But I felt like I was being repeatedly punished anyway when all I wanted to do was be.  Not constantly survive, but just exist.  Float around, and try to achieve some “normal” milestones in life, like get a job, maintain a social life, date, explore.  Because all of that isn’t already hard enough by itself, right?

The feeling I’d been having deep in the pit of my stomach lately is mainly anger, and then guilt.  Feeling like I am not a good enough friend, or daughter, while struggling to fix what’s on my plate.   And trying to make sure I’m vulnerable and open to other people with my struggles, but not overburdening them or scaring them away with the amount of problems I have.  Nobody likes being around unhappy people.

In addition, once you share that information with people, it can either go really well or downhill.  People might start to distance themselves and you become “the Other,” the sickly one they don’t really want to deal with… or they start hovering and panicking and treating you like you’re really different and need assistance with every little thing, like you’re useless.  That’s how my grandma and cousin reacted and it became really exhausting and annoying quickly.  Or I suppose, there were the few handful of great friends I still have now who have always treated me like a human being, but put into consideration my needs whenever I needed, and I will always treasure and love them for that.  Sharing their day and problems with me, just as I do, the way it’s supposed to be:  Equals.  No pity, no ignorance, none of that shit.

Secondly, trying so hard not to be consumed by fear.  Fear that I am not capable of being loved, that no one will ever be able to or want to deal with me, fear that I have nothing to offer them.  Knowing all of it is not true, yet somehow still standing here, wondering.

Thirdly, just the isolation.  This is about to sound real emo, but it’s crazy how many times I’m surrounded by so many people, yet feel so alone.

Some days, I’m able to work through it and just think, fuck it, I’m fine.  Everything’s fine.  Just breathe.  Other days, and it’ll get worse as we get deeper into winter, I can’t help but feel shackled to a singular spot, paralyzed by the knowledge that I both know and don’t know.  What I can expect, and can’t expect to have out of life.

And then the people that I feel relatively comfortable around and at peace with, at the same time, don’t.  I’m tired of hearing people use the common response “Pray about it.”  I very much want to give in that it’s out of my hands and part of a greater plan, but I can’t.  Do it.  Maybe it’s my resistance to giving up which is what it would feel like, or my inability to just hand over my faith blindly, and I want to pray to God and ask him for help, yet things in life still keep rolling on whether or not he’s really answered.

Am I believer?  I don’t know.  Do I believe Jesus died on the cross for our sins and is our Savior?  I’d like to.  But I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

“I’m okay” (but not really)

When someone asks you, “Is everything okay?”  or when people (at least in America) ask “How are you?”  The answer is probably 99% of the time “Good!” This is such an automatic reaction that I notice people continue talking without even waiting for the response, and they bustle to talk over each other to continue to other things or something to that likeness.

I’m a terrible liar, so it physically makes me uncomfortable whenever I have to answer things like this.  I’ve gotten better at it over the years, but it still makes it a lie.  Here’s a scary thought.  What if it never gets better?  Your answer will permanently stay a lie?

You hide behind your smile, but even that feels untruthful.  And people comfort you and fall to the default of “It will get better” with all those testimonies.  But for those where it didn’t get better, guess what?  They aren’t going to rain on anyone’s parade by publicly coming out and say “It doesn’t.”  Chances are, their lives have fallen so dismally they wouldn’t bother to.  They’re busy dealing with the heavy load that has been placed on their shoulders.  It could be anything… alcoholism, suicidal thoughts, drugs, disease, pain in general that won’t go away.  Maybe they were gone already.

And me?  I can train myself to follow the wisp of thoughts that it might get better, but I’ve lived 23 years like this, and my best hope is more that it will continue to stay like this, and not worsen.  That’s the truth.  But the truth is so dark, the issues are so widespread from the immediate to the long term, that I feel some days like I’m waiting in a holding cell for her expiration date.

Some people walk by this holding cell, either completely ignorant, oblivious, or just don’t give a fuck.  The few who stop might gawk, or ask with some sympathy how I’m doing.  You know what?  I don’t want your sympathy.  That’s like feeling sorry for someone, feeling pity.  I want empathy, I demand understanding for everyone in this world. But the reality again, is that real peace and happiness will never exist.  We want equality in the economy?  That’s called communism, which we know doesn’t work.  In democracy, someone will ALWAYS have to get the short end of the stick.  And there are too many damn selfish people in the world, statistically, many simply just want to get through life okay, can you blame them?  (sometimes, you can for being an asshole).

This is supposed be a blog about positivity but you know what?  Positivity and happiness is only measured in relevance to suffering and depression, so they’re one and the same topic.  Obtaining it, lack of it.  Here’s the real truth. Honesty, this here, the only space in existence where it exists, untainted.

And so, what would I reply to this person who asks me if I’m okay?  That’s a loaded question.  But maybe they don’t really want to know the whole truth.  As me, the one with the issues, am I supposed to be the one who bears the light bravely and inspiringly, beaming at everyone in my sickbed (figuratively speaking for now) so that I have any redeeming qualities and serve some sort of purpose for others?

I don’t want to sound emo, so I’ll just stick with “I’m okay, thanks :)”

 

It Never Ends

I spend all week feeling some type of way, trying not to feel so much because it’s too much to handle- I feel like Tommen in Game of Thrones some days.  Of course, compared to that world I guess this one is okay, but any worse and I’d want to jump off a cliff too.

What is the light at the end of the tunnel?  Maybe this week’s is meeting new people and friends and attempting some norms like laughter and blending in with everyone else.  But once the day approaches, I’m feeling another type of way. Anxiety.  Fear.  Feelings of doubt- why do I bother, why do I try, why can’t I turn off my thoughts, why is it so hard just to, be?

Is it supposed to be this hard for everybody, because I don’t think it’s the same?

This week’s two favorite pieces of music:

  1.  A new discovery, which is “Save Me” by the korean boy band BTS.  They’re not perfect, but I’m impressed with the vibe of the song and the dance.
  2. An old favorite, which is “Forrest Gump” by Frank Ocean, channel ORANGE, also my favorite color… while we’re at it, my other songs that I like by him are “Pink Matter” and “Lost.”

Sigh.  I’m in a sad place right now, but I won’t talk about it here until I’m ready.

 

Life can be (but is not always) Farting Sunshine and Rainbows, But It’s Okay

I don’t know if anyone else follows a certain page featuring kids with special needs, but for the past year I’ve followed Christopher Ulmer’s mission relatively closely.  I support his goal to interview these people and to share their stories and perspectives with the rest of the world as normal human beings who just want to be accepted and treated the same way.  But maybe I’m feeling pessimistic today?  I’ve definitely been feeling annoyed at a lot of things lately.

I would always watch each video uploaded the day it came out and try to learn what I could from what I saw. But one thing nags me right now.  It just seems unrealistic that every single one of these human beings give happy-go-lucky answers, smiling about how they think about girls, friends, and their mom, and how they want to spread love and joy and appreciate everyone and all those good feels.  I’m not hating on it, I think it’s great, but it starts to feel repetitive and, well… can we call out the elephant in the room and discuss more about feelings and the tough parts?

Because it’s okay to feel anger, frustration, and pain at what hand you’ve been dealt in life.  It doesn’t do to focus on it and become drowned in it, but at least, speaking for myself here, there are moments, days, weeks, even months when you just have had it and you’re fed up.  At those times, is it not human, all the more real of emotions, to just let yourself feel, go through it, and then try to try again?   I want someone to say all this in one of his interviews, because it’s real.  It’s the truth.  That is what it means to be an inspiration:  getting back up despite everything, not a few seconds of positive babble that downplays their experiences and has cheerful, content, beaming kids in every clip.  I just feel like when all the kids appear to be of the same mold and outlook, it’s not a full or completed portrayal of the full range of human experiences.  For the people who go through chronic conditions as well as the people surrounding them who help, it’s different.

To “normal”, healthy people, I would like to explain what it is exactly that chronic conditions are like.  Sure, everyone goes through rough patches in life, maybe break ups, loss of job, those kinds of situations.  But having a chronic illness is like having a guarantee of those things either existing 24/7, reminding you with every small thing you do like breathing, moving a couple feet downstairs, or needing to ask someone for a favor.  People with chronic conditions have to wear a mental suit of armor at all times.  So when I see privileged people get all worn down by something like grades or worrying about not getting a job despite a 4.0 GPA and a million extracurriculars, I can’t help but feel a little pissed off and discouraged.

It’s a bit like someone getting upset that they got distilled water instead of spring water, when so many people elsewhere have access to no water at all:  there is almost little to no chance of them obtaining it.  So, just to even know there is a possibility, a hope, to gain something if you work hard at it and have a bit of luck, is a huge thing by itself.  What the absolutely worst circumstance is knowing that you will never get that opportunity, because it’s simply not in the cards for you.

And tonight, I’ll whine a bit and get it all out, but come tomorrow?  Tomorrow, I will have no choice but to wake up and work at it again, replenishing my mental and physical attitude as best as I can.  Even though you’re standing in the middle of the gym or the supermarket and feel really off and just unwell, you’re still standing there, smiling at strangers, holding up a conversation, putting on a mask to blend in with society so that you fit in as best you can.  And as you steer yourself towards the car with the handicap spot, you take down the sign because you don’t feel like you deserve or want that label for yourself.  Moments later, you see a tall, white dude walk out, stare at your car in its forefront spot, peer at you, and decide to continue walking.  And then, ladies and gentlemen, you know once again, that you have been judged in the span of five seconds.  But what options do you have, except to brush it off and continue on your day?

For so long, I felt like I had no right to complain, but I do.  It’s not okay to take it out on other people, but I do have a right to feel sad or upset.  It’s okay to feel this way.  It’s okay to be realistic and just call things out on what they are sometimes.  After all, we DON’T live in a world that shits sunshine and rainbow farts.  There is a lot of cruelty and injustice happening all the time, all you have to do is turn on the news to get that.  We can’t blindly ignore it as if it were not part of our world, but we also cannot let ourselves become consumed by it.  What a delicate balance and just plain fucking hard thing to do.

Truly Good People

Recently, I’ve been having a crazy mix of feelings.  Part of me feels tremendously grateful and emotional for not suffering so much through my insomnia and insane levels of anxiety.  But the other part also feels like it only mastered dulling the pain momentarily, but the anguish still seeps through incrementally.  “Without suffering, there would be no compassion.”  It’s hard for people from their privileged perch to look down and view the rest of everyone else as a part of their world, because they have the option to not interact and treat others as another realm, separated by an invisible wall of glass that divides the experiences of all of us.  They can’t relate, and can go on living their lives in the smaller everyday problems, those we recognize as First World problems.

Maybe it should be mandatory for everyone to go through a serious phase of poverty and illness to truly be able to spread the compassion and mutual understanding that often bonds us to each other.  We are connected in the most delicate threads of wispy webs or silk, ones that make us love, feel pain and empathy for each other, makes us more resilient than we could ever realize.

On my trip to Europe, I was in a bad place, and it was hard to ignore, and I felt deeply all the suffering that I saw.  Here I was with my own horde of health issues, yet when I walked down the streets of Sorrento or Naples, there I stood in front of two women with their children in the streets, their life haunted in their eyes, one of them with their nose cut off; I felt my touristy privilege hit me and them in the face.  There a million tourists who flaunt off their wealth with Gucci perfume, Prada purses, and Ray Ban sunglasses strut by everyday without batting an eye, protected by that invisible wall, or maybe their own hardships had hardened them against what their eyes saw, but didn’t perceive anymore.  Throughout the trip, I spared a dollar or two here and there, but when I returned and told my friends, they warned me that the money might have been collected by gangs instead, and possibly endangered the women and children’s health further.  That point worried me.  The conversation reminded me of a scene from Whiskey Tango Foxtrot where Tina Fey’s character tries to stop Martin Freeman’s from giving money to a child, “Stop!  It’s a scam.” “So what, they’re still in the streets begging, aren’t they?”

I thought, how could one end up in such a life where cutting off the vulnerables’ noses be the only way you made a living?  Then I thought, like everyone else who turned a blind eye, once the wall was up, it couldn’t be that difficult once such things transformed into a norm in one’s mind.  Maybe even judging what was immoral was immoral of me:  after all, I had the privilege of never having been put in that position or had to make that kind of choice.

Lately, everything on the news seemed to weigh heavily on my mind, not only made me sad, but actually flooded in and settled like a toxin, and I felt like I had to stem the flow by blocking out some of it by setting up a wall, otherwise it would be too much to handle. I felt some days like my mind was being eaten alive, consumed by all of it. Being depressed never solves anything though, I thought.  Nobody likes depressed, pessimistic people.  You have to fix your own problems and stand on your own two feet before you can start making a real difference in the bigger picture.

I roamed the aisles of Barnes and Noble one day, and opened the first page to the life of Hyeonseo Lee, and got pulled immediately into her story.  It’s called “The Girl with Seven Names.”  There were no words for the tremendous respect I felt reading through everything she endured, and how happy I felt to know she made it safely from North to South Korea, even if it took a decade.  After all that she experienced, losing her father, almost being raped, almost being deported, almost being sold into prostitution, being betrayed and hospitalized by strangers, she made it.  And the part of her that was close to giving up, was shown how kind humanity can be at the most random moments, when Dick Stolp, an Australian backpacker, a stranger to her, decided to hand her money to buy her family’s freedom.  For no other reason than to help.  He could’ve decided to conform to the general conventional realistic, or pessimistic belief that she was trying to cheat him with a sad story, but he didn’t.  He chose to have faith despite the million reasons why one wouldn’t do it.  And when you think about it, is the cost of 5 human lives worth $1000?  More than that.  And yet, most of us wouldn’t do it.  Maybe we look at a life that is smeared in dirt, trembling at our feet in rags, and we get to decide that that life isn’t worth giving a hand to.  Why?

It would’ve completely broke me if I were to give all that money, to find out that they didn’t even make it to safety.  And that might’ve been enough to prevent me from giving out that money, which is so selfish.  We’d rather not have to cross that wall, or momentarily dip into the contaminated water of someone else’s life if possible.

And that brings me to my next point.  There is no doubt humans are complex, most of us have bad and good sides.  And yet, I can think of a handful of people I know who truly, absolutely do not judge people by their appearances, financial status, or other things that so closely wrap around our everyday perceptions, yet are so superficial.  And I feel so proud to know these people.  There are 100% moral people in the world who are overfilling to the brim with kindness and goodness.  Often, they are taken advantage of by other people, but it doesn’t diminish their spirit because it would be so hard to take that away from them; it’s a part of them.  And that makes me have faith that these kinds of people still exist.

 

Alter Egos

Shower Post #3

Do you ever react to a situation differently depending on your mood?  I think we all do.  A part of it may be an innate, so deeply ingrained part of us that can’t be changed.  At some point though, I wondered if I might even be bipolar.  What I’ve concluded is that everyone has multiple facets to their personality.  What is the real me?  Does anyone know?  Most people who think they know me might only have met the predominant me, or the stereotyped quiet Asian girl who has been trying to find her voice all these years, and still is.

When I was younger, I feared nothing.  Throw me in the deep end of the pool- I didn’t know what drowning was, so I had full confidence I would float and make it to the top.  Tell me to belt at the top of my lungs to strangers and introduce myself afterwards?  Why not.  Dare me to walk to the edge of a cliff and gaze down the world at my feet?  Sure.  Once upon a blue moon, I was fearless.

At some point, things changed.  Self-doubt had me wrapped around its fingertips.  I became a slave and puppet to the moods of others.  The obstacles leered over me, laughing at me as I became imprisoned in their shadows.  Over time, I withdrew into myself and people knew me as the shy, obedient, and tiny girl who could be easily coerced into doing their bidding, or who would stay silent to their mockery.  It was hard to make friends, but I had all these feelings bottled up inside, frustration mostly.  Multiple circumstances in my upbringing, household, and life molded me into someone I did not like.

If you caught me at a certain phase though, you would have met a different side of me.  Maybe it was the frustration spilling over, lighting a fire to my being.  Quell your voice.  Humble yourself.  Respect your elders and adult authorities.

Jasmine, why don’t you have any friends?

The journey I’ve made is mine, and maybe you do or don’t relate to it, but damn I’ve traveled a long way to where I am now.  The challenges are not over, and yet I can resoundingly say I am proud of myself to still be here, existing.  I am a survivor.  It is vital to first survive and overcome your demons, so that you can really live.  Maybe most of the time, it’s a struggle just to exist, to be.    But if there is a silver lining to all the pain and suffering you feel, it is that it will make the beautiful moments that much more beautiful.  After some self-reflection, I divided myself into Five Identities (more in the future on the ID, Ego, and SuperEgo via Freud)

  1.  The Obvious Identity- Passive, Submissive, Quiet, Hardworking – who most people think is me… only recognizing the side of me who tends to be a pushover, likes classical music, smiles too much
  2. The Fierce Vibrant ID- who likes orange hair, the sensual human body, admires bold and free-spirited women, colors, has a temper, has no time for BS, all kinds of music (yes, I like hip hop music sometimes, depends on the specific song, why is that so surprising… all genres can be incredible, including that genre)
  3. The Dreamy Artsy ID- aspires to mix all kinds of art, loves photography, music
  4.  The Hateful, Depressed, Sick ID- consumed with negative thoughts, some worse than others.  The devil voice that whispers and tells you to give up, what’s the point.  Always tired and uncomfortable, grouchy, withdrawn, pessimistic, blames the world and everyone else (1/2)
  5.   The Overcheerful, Optimistic, Bubbly ID – super happy and excited all the time, wants joy to be spread to all corners of the earth, wants to save the world. (2/2)

 

Courage

It’s been two years since the worst time of my life, and I’m really proud of me and thankful to my friends for getting me through that period.  The scary part is that it’s not over, and that moments like that might return. You will battle your mind every second, everyday, and for me, my body as well.  How do you even begin to heal?  I think maybe you don’t, the best you can hope for is the courage to manage.

This blog I’ve started is my own personal space of happiness, and while I don’t want to deny the part of me that hurts, a reminder for all the good things is maybe what I need.  I had a huge mental breakdown today, and could feel myself slipping downwards- I wish there was some way to alert others as if you were holding up an “S.O.S.” sign.  Constantly worrying and standing on the edge of a hole man.  I’m exhausted.

But I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?  Look back on the few greatest moments that have graced your life, and let yourself feel, but then try to remember all the positive, even if it’s a tiny handful or is yet to happen.  Live to achieve that feeling, because it will remind you of everything that you’ve withstood and represent, which is Courage.  Courage doesn’t always show up in just the actions of a doctor, firefighter, or activist.  Sometimes it goes unnoticed, unappreciated, even.  But recognize it for yourself.  And try to channel it towards something better or greater.  That’s all I can say as a note to myself, and for anybody reading this now.