Transitioning & Sadness.

This time of the year is filled with transition for so many people- teenagers graduating from high school, college students going home for the summer, graduates taking the first steps into the 'real world'. Summer is a time of change and with that change can come so many emotions, good and bad. Walking away from what is comfortable and familiar can be scary, heartbreaking, and sad. Often, during times of transition, we are told to focus on the positive outcomes... "but you are starting the best years of your life" or "just wait to see what the future holds for you!" That can make it feel wrong to be sad or scared. Those emotions can make us feel guilty for not appreciating the good things that may be coming.

But it is okay to be sad. Transition means leaving something behind. No matter how grand the new venture may be, there is still something that will remain in the past. Something that doesn't come with you.

Tomorrow, I am leaving my first professional job- the job that I have had for three long years. I am leaving the coworkers that have become family, the students that have shaped me, the office that has felt like home. I am turning three years of work over to someone else to do what they want with it- to build upon it or tear it apart for something new. Although I knew that this transition was coming and I am leaving to chasing an exciting new path in my career, I can't help but feel sad.

This isn't my depression. This isn't something to be fought or overcome. These are natural feelings to be embraced, feelings that will go away with time. When you live with depression, you become hyper-aware of your feelings or moods. The first hint of sadness is usually accompanied with an "oh-no" because it is often followed by depression's choke-hold.

Yet sometimes, sadness is just sadness. It is natural. It is okay. Transitions aren't easy and saying goodbye is the worst. Embrace the feelings that come with transition. Temper them with the hope that the future holds something wonderful, but don't push them aside or run from them. Let that sadness remind you of the good that has come thus far. Hold onto it and when you are ready, let it go.

It's Okay to Not Be Okay.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have taken a hiatus. Friends, students, my blog, social media all took a backseat while I focused on the war raging in my mind. At first, I felt incredibly guilty about withdrawing from the world- like I was letting down the people around me by not giving my time and energy away. This is a feeling that I often struggle with, but have learned to manage. However, this time was very different. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to pull myself together and turn to face the world again. I felt like a fraud, like a failure. How could I possibly call myself an advocate for mental wellness or promote the concept of "being unapologetically you" when I was stuck in a cycle of self-criticism and shame? I felt like an imposter, pretending to have everything together when, in actuality, I was crumbling inside. It took a very real conversation with one of my most beloved students- a conversation in which she became the teacher and I became the student- for me to realize that I had forgotten the single most important piece of advice that I can give to anyone struggling to find the light they need to push on in this crazy, difficult, overwhelming world...

It's okay to not be okay.

A little louder for the people in the back- IT'S OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY.

Every single one of us is fighting a battle, struggling to keep it together, simply going through some shit. There is no shame in that- it is a part of the human condition. It is easy to fall into the mindset that you must be perfect or at least appear perfect- this is my personal Achilles' Heel. But you will find that there is so much freedom in the moments that are messy and imperfect and real. Those are the moments in which we can be ourselves- unapologetically- with flaws and off days and problems and bad eyebrows. Because, regardless of what the little voice in your head tells you, it is okay to not be okay.

Now go out there and kick some ass. The second step to getting better (after you forgive yourself for being so hard on you) is remembering the brilliant reasons why you are on this earth. You are important, you are deserving, you are wonderful. It may not feel like that today- and that is perfectly okay- but trust me, you are worth it.

Finding Strength.

Birthday Inspiration.

Today is my 26th birthday. That is close to 9500 days on this earth. In that time, I have been to my own personal hell and back. I have failed and I have thrived. I have seen death and fought for life. Through it all, the one thing that I cling to like a newborn child to its mother is hope. Hope that things will get better, nothing will stop me from reaching my dreams, my life will be full of happiness despite my disorder, and I will be an active warrior in the fight to make this world a more wonderful place. If today was the last birthday you would ever have, what would you do? Give up and waste away those last precious 365 days? Or find hope that you can make a splash so big that the waves long outlast you? Hope seems kinda nice, doesn't it? Live everyday like it is another day towards your last birthday. Hope with all your heart. Let your light so shine.

Thanks for being a part of my birthday!

What's the Plan, Stan?

Every plan starts the same way- by thinking of the best possible outcome and figuring out what it will take to get there. Start your plan. What does your land of sunshine and unicorns look like? You can do this. It is time to start.

Know the Signs of Depression.

Know the signs. Seek help. Offer help. Let's get better, together.

Beating the Little Voice.

I originally started writing this for a scholarly, monthly e-journal for higher education professionals, but almost let the little voice in my head win: "this isn't good enough to share with your peers". The deadline grew closer and that little voice grew louder and more condescending. Through all the therapy, treatment, and medication, there are still times that the little "you aren't good enough" voice wins. Today, I am fighting back- I am beating the little voice...

I Have a Mental Illness, but I’m Not Crazy

According to the National Alliance on Mental Health, “one in four adults−approximately 61.5 million Americans−experiences mental illness in a given year”. With such a high percentage of our population facing mental illness, it is logical to assume that we will come into contact with individuals- colleagues, students, friends, or family members- who are tackling an unseen disease of the mind. Unfortunately, there is a dark stigma attached to mental illness and those who suffer from it; a stigma that can be broken down into five interrelated components: labeling, stereotyping, separation, status loss, and discrimination (Link & Phelan, 2001).

Labeling

Crazy. Over-emotional. High-strung. Wishy-washy. Needy. Too sensitive. Abnormal. Weird. These are all things I have been called over the last seven years- words that kept me from confiding in others because putting a name to my disorder would solidify the labels that I had so often heard. Because I was so afraid of these labels, I refused to acknowledge that I had a problem, thus avoiding the therapy and treatments that I desperately needed. Labels create an internalized stigma that can stop someone from seeking help. I have depression and anxiety that outwardly appears to be bipolar disorder, but that doesn’t define who I am or dictate my personality.

 Stereotyping

A quick Google image search of the phrase “mentally ill” reveals rows upon rows of thin, disheveled individuals with wild, desperate eyes. It was these pictures that came to mind when I first heard the words “bipolar disorder” escape from the mouth of my psychiatrist. Yet, recently, I was described as someone who “outwardly appears to be the girl next door.  Someone you would hire to babysit your kids or house sit for you while you are on vacation” (Coulter, 2016). This image is a sharp contrast to that of someone you would picture to be mentally ill. The stereotypical “mentally ill” individual is a fallacy; I have an illness, but I do not look sick.

 Separation

Making the decision to share my struggle with mental illness after almost seven years of suffering alone was one of the toughest decisions I have ever made, as the fear of backlash, rejection, and misunderstanding was overwhelming. I was very fortunate that the majority of the feedback that I got after first sharing my story was positive, yet I still received some harsh, hurtful criticism: “you are just doing this for attention” or “does this mean you are going to cry a lot more often?” The concept that mental illness and attention-seeking behaviors are intertwined is ridiculous.  Thoughtless comments like the aforementioned can cause divides within relationships. In a time of need, individuals struggling with a mental illness may find themselves alienated, ostracized, or separated from the people they need the most.

 Status Loss

As long as I can remember, there has been a little voice in the back of my head reminding me that I will never, ever be "good enough", thus feeding into my chronic depression. The most heartbreaking stigma that I have had to endure is that of status loss among the people I love most. My mental illness has always made me feel as if I am in need of repair. A colleague telling me that I shouldn't share my story with others as they may not be comfortable with me, or may not think I was competent at my job, solidified the notion that I was a broken girl who would never be good enough. Fortunately, this colleague was wrong- my mental illness has made me a more compassionate, empathetic advisor. I may be struggling to keep it all together at times, but I am not incompetent.

 Discrimination

The scariest part of publicly sharing my struggle with mental illness was knowing that there would be some discrimination that would follow. Widely publicized incidents like the Sandy Hook shooting and the attack on Charleston's Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church Large have caused fear to rise in the throats of those who hear the words "mentally ill". Large studies conducted in 1996 and 2006 showed that "Americans grew less willing over time to befriend or work with someone with schizophrenia, and more inclined to see people with the disease as violent and dangerous" (Szabo, 2014). Navigating mental illness can be a scary thing, but I promise you, I am not to be feared.

A recent study found that over half of college students are experiencing some form of mental illness (Zivin et al., 2009), thus leading to a reasonable conclusion that, even if you or a colleague is mentally well, you will interact with someone who is not well within the college setting. Mental illness- whether it be fleeting or chronic- needs to be talked about. The more conversations that are had, the less power the stigma attached to mental illness will become; thus, empowering those living with mental health issues to seek help, get better, and persevere.

References

Coulter, J. (2016, May 12). How a Cat and Young Woman Save Lives. Retrieved June 15, 2016, from ConquerWorry.org: http://www.conquerworry.org/blog/5-12-2016

Link, B. & Phelan, J. (2001) Conceptualizing Stigma. Annual Review of Sociology 27(3): 363–85.

National Alliance on Mental Health. (n.d.). Any Mental Illness (AMI) Among Adults. Retrieved June 15, 2016, from National Alliance on Mental Health: http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/prevalence/any-mental-illness-ami-among-adults.shtml#sthash.UGAqHdQD.dpuf

Szabo, L. (2014, June 25). Cost of Not Caring: Stigma Set in Stone. USA Today , pp. 14-20.

Zivin, K., Eisenberg, D., Gollust, S. E., & Golberstein, E. (2009). Persistence of mental health problems and needs in a college student population. Journal of Affective Disorders , 117, 180-185.

You Matter.

Just in case you ever, ever doubted it- you matter. You are here for a reason. Sometimes, life is going to be hard, so hard that you may want to give up. It is okay to feel weak and to question your journey. Those are the moments that will help you grow stronger. Whatever you do, don't give up. You matter.

In the Wake of Tragedy

This week, I have taken a hiatus from social media and my blog to reflect, grieve, and seek hope. My silence is not a sign of apathy or complacency. Sometimes, in the wake of tragedy, you need time to take care of yourself before answering the call to action. Thank you Jennifer Marshall and This Is My Brave, Inc. for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts on your blog.

Year Seven.

The 4th of July has always been a day that has been marked by insane adventures for me- this year I was moving in 95 degree South Carolina heat after spending the weekend in the mountains, two years ago was spent at a theme park with my family, four years ago was filled with creating new art for an upcoming move, and seven years ago was spent on a family vacation through Tennessee. Just my parents, sister, and I on a month-long trip through the state. I had happened to have just gone through a traumatic break-up, was experiencing some really dramatic highs and lows in rapid fire, and was battling some of the ugliest internal monsters I had ever seen. I was on a speeding train towards disaster.

Because of the glory of the Timehop app, yesterday I had the jarring experience of looking back at the photos from the vacation (below). That person is someone I don't recognize anymore- so thin and gaunt, hiding anger, anxiety, frustration, depression, self-loathing all beneath the surface of a too-tight smile. That person scares me and comforts me. Two months after that vacation, I hit rock bottom and started to seek help. That moment in my life represents the worst struggle and the best decision I have ever made.

In a perfectly serendipitous turn of events, I ended up in the Smoky Mountains once again this 4th of July weekend. This time, my days were spent relaxing with my family, the datemate, his family, and friends. I felt calm, controlled, and happy. It was the perfect way to mark year 7 on my journey towards getting better. Every single day is a struggle, but that doesn't mean that you give up on finding serenity. It makes the great days even sweeter, the love even deeper, and the hopefulness even stronger.

Enjoy the small things today. Find something beautiful. Cherish it. You ARE making progress.

This past weekend. Vacation with the datemate. My progress.

Grab a Shovel.

Today, I woke with a sense of urgency. The world is changing around us- will we move towards the light of progress or let the hatred, bigotry, and systematic oppression keep us in the dark? The last few months have been wrought with fear mongering, violence, and malicious actions. It is time to make a change. Recently, I have become obsessed with the Broadway show Hamilton and have memorized the ENTIRE cast recording. There is one line that has resonated with me so deeply in the last few weeks- "we in the shit now, somebody gotta shovel it!' The world has been turned upside down- Brexit, Trump's presidential candidacy, multiple mass shooting, acts of terrorism around the world. Normally, surrounded by so much negativity, I would feel a depressive episode pulling at the edges of my mind. But not now.

It is time to take the frustration, anger, depression, anxiety, and fear and change it into power, into movement. I am on fire, burning through these emotions. Grab a shovel, it is time to get to work.

*Yes, that is a picture of me waist deep in mud, questioning every life choice I had made to bring me to that moment in my life.

Words for the Soul.

Hopeless Grieving.

Tragedy affects each of us differently; grief comes in many forms. If there is one thing that this week has taught me, it is that the idyllic hope that I have clung to for so long is a foolish, naive notion. One that is rooted in a fear of despair. The horrific loss of life that occurred in Orlando during the early hours of June 12th has haunted me non-stop over the last 3 days. The shooting in Orlando isn't about me- it is about the victims, their families, their friends, their loved ones. It is about the LGBT+ community, of which I am not apart of and thus do not understand the fear and prejudice its members face. It is about people of color who live lives that I will never be able to fully grasp as my own privilege as a white woman has led me to experience the world differently.

It is not about me. Yet, I still grieve. Why is this relevant? Because I have felt that my grief is a taboo, an unjustifiable feeling that I should not be allowed to feel. My sadness is not good enough. This tragedy has become so politicized and polarized that it has torn the collective "us" apart and many individuals down. In a time of heartbreak and despair, hope is overshadowed by hatred, judgement, and anger.

Central Florida has always been my home- I was born and raised just a short distance south of Orlando. I feel like my home has been tainted by the hatred of another. I am so homesick- I want to go be with my friends and my family who have been directly impacted by this senseless tragedy, but I can't. Sunday, I sat out in the sun to help me feel closer to home (as the sun always reminds me of Florida) only to end up feeling empty and useless like a naive child seeking home in the imaginary.

I have cried over and over and over again as I have seen the faces of the victims- real people with amazing stories that were cut far too short. The pain and suffering of their families and friends has pierced through my soul. I prayed that I wouldn't see the picture of a friend flash before me on CNN, only to have my prayers answered with the guilty reminder that this was my own selfish desire to disconnect from this horrific ordeal. I want to do something, anything to help, but I can't. I cannot donate blood, I have no money to give. I feel useless.

The only thing I have to give is support. I am not a perfect ally- no one will ever be- but I will try my damnedest. I will continue to fight for equality, for love without fear. I will do whatever I can to try and make this world safer, better. Over the last few days, I have watched (in horror) as people have broken down others, claiming that they are not doing enough or that their grief is unfounded, a disgrace, misplaced, or misaligned. I have been appalled at the hate that we have let brew in the face of disaster.

There is already too much hate, judgement, hopelessness, sadness, and fear in this world. In the aftermath of this tragedy, we should acknowledge that we are all imperfect, grieve together, and seek out what is still good in this world. My idyllic hope may be naive and stupid, but it is the only thing that will stand strong in the face of so much pain. Hope is the only thing some of us have left.

Stop hate. Hope.

Today's Reminder.

Whatever you do, never lose hope. No matter what else is taken from you- hope is the one thing you will always have.