A Sister's Love.

My sister, Stephanie, and I are as polar opposite as you can imagine. She is athletic, beautiful, introverted, and street-smart. I am artistic, awkward, extroverted, and book-smart. Growing up, we clashed daily and gave our parents a run for their money. However, through everything we did to each other (including multiple death threats, stealing each others' everything, and constantly beating each other up) we always, ALWAYS loved each other. She is both my foil and my soulmate. Which made it incredibly hard to ever share with her that I was struggling to make it through each day. I wanted to be her strong big sister- the person she could always rely on, the person she could look up to. If anything was ever to take that away, I was worried that I would lose prestige in her eyes. I wouldn't be as important. She would forget about me. Ever since I moved away for college, then graduate school, and now for my first job, I have feared that we would end up like so many siblings- distant and unconnected. She was my first and my best friend. What if my mental illness scared her away?

"The should haves and what ifs will eat your soul."

After being a part of 'This Is My Brave', I knew it was just a matter of time before she found out that I had been hiding such a big secret from her. So, like any terrified adult, I made the grown-up decision to send her a link to this blog and then run away, anxiously awaiting her response. A response that would actually have me laughing, instead of crying like I had anticipated...

"You ain't gotta hide yourself. People got shit going on in their lives and no one should be ashamed to hide anything. In a world full of Bruce Jenners, be a Caitlyn." -Stephanie

That's my sister, y'all. Accepting, loving, and a little weird. 23 years of putting up with one another and I should have expected nothing less from her. I think she always had an understanding that something was not quite right, but that wasn't necessarily important to her. Our relationship is stronger than anything that life may throw at us- mental illness, distance, whatever. I will always be Stephanie's big sister; however, it seems like I still have a lot to learn from her. Thank you, Nan.

Fear No Evil.

I recorded this video a couple of weeks ago, but wasn't sure if the message was one that truly needed to be heard. I am going on a little hiatus for a little while as I travel to Indy to facilitate a retreat for the next week. As I have been preparing for the retreat, I have gotten increasingly more nervous- what if the participants don't like me? What if I screw this up? Fear is the only thing standing in the way of happiness, health, life, etc. Non timebo mala. You may need to turn up the volume a little on this one- sleeplessness leads to mumbly videos.

PS- Shout out to Becky Provost from Arty Party Augusta for my amazing henna tattoo and the brilliant Heather Low for my beautiful "Non Timebo Mala" artwork <3

Family Secrets.

When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder in September of 2009, I made the promise to myself that no one would ever know. I wanted everyone who met me to think I was perfect- an unattainable goal that no one can ever meet. A mental illness would mean that I wasn't perfect; that I was broken and flawed, a reject from God's assembly line. The shame of having a mental illness would drive me to great extremes, including lying to friends, family, boyfriends, and bosses. If my depression chained me to my bed for a day, my excuse was that "my car wouldn't start" or I had "caught a stomach bug". If I couldn't contain my emotions- sadness, anger, anxiety- then I was "just on my period". This sham went on for nearly 6 years. I was afraid that, if people found out about my mental illness, then everything that the depression and anxiety had been telling me would be true. No one would love me. My friends would leave me. My family would be embarrassed of me. As the years (and therapy sessions) went by, I started to overcome this fear and became more and more comfortable with sharing my story with others. First, my sorority sisters, then boyfriends and other friends. But I could never find the courage to talk to my family about it.

I am so very blessed with two of the most amazing parents on the planet, a sister who is both my foil and my soulmate, and an army of aunts, uncles, cousins, second-cousins, and people who aren't biologically related, yet absolutely part of my family. I was so deeply ashamed of my diagnosis- the idea that I could possibly bring shame to them was paralyzing. Mulan had nothing on me...

"Dishonor. Dishonor on your whole family. Make a note of this- dishonor on you. Dishonor on your cow." -Mushu to Mulan, Disney's Mulan (1998)

The thing that truly scared me the most was that I was afraid that they would blame themselves. That they would see my depression as a result of something that they did- that they weren't loving enough or didn't give me enough attention. Often, when trying to process mental illness, people seek something or someone to blame. I was terrified they would think it was their fault, that it would hurt them, or bring them guilt. That would be the farthest thing from the truth ever possible. I had an amazing childhood. I come from a family that bubbles over with love for each other. Although far from perfect, my family is perfect to me. The idea that they may feel like they were to blame for my mental illness felt like it may kill me. I couldn't bare to think of it.

So I decided that they would never know. The manager of our insurance account, my mom knew I was seeing a therapist and that I was struggling with anxiety and some depression- but what college student isn't? She would get the bills from my doctors, so there was no use trying to hide everything from her. But my dad and my sister? I couldn't let them know. I couldn't let the facade of the perfect daughter and sister drop.

That is, until I decided to start this blog. While home for Christmas break this past year, I knew I needed to tell them myself rather than let them read about it secondhand. I sat down in my father's office- him behind his desk, I in the recliner across from him and my mother on the bench next to me. I remember that my mom was doing laundry in the adjacent room so I could smell the clean, fresh scent of detergent- I thought "please help me clean this air, make this easier". Through tears, sobs, and snot, I explained to my parents that I had been struggling with a mental illness for years and that I was going to start sharing this story, my story- with them and with strangers. My dad's response?

"Okay. You know I love you and am going to support you no matter what."

It felt so anticlimactic. I had waited nearly 6 years to tell them that I was sick and the response I got felt so easy and relaxed. Like I had just told them that I was starting a new job or buying a new car. That's when I realized that it didn't matter that I had a mental illness, I was still me. My depression and anxiety had never defined me, thus my family saw me for who I was. I was the one who had built up this idea that their love could be swayed by the revelation that I was not their perfect daughter or sister. Their love would never change- mental illness is no match for a family's love.

And for that, I am most thankful.

A Follow-Up.

After posting Falling in Love When Depressed, I learned something that I have long tried to preach to my students, yet apparently have not done a very good job at internalizing. Intent versus impact. When I wrote that blog, my intent was to share how I experience relationships as someone with a chronic mental illness. My hope was that the blog would help others that may get stuck in the same routine of self-sabotage when in romantic relationships. When I 'give and give and give', it is not to my relationships or to individuals. It is to my own self-doubt. That is my fatal flaw. That is why many of my relationships have failed. While building a support system over the last 10 years, I have learned that this tends to be a common problem for people who suffer from depression. We do not believe that we are worth the love that is given to us, thus we reject it and hurt our friends, families, and loved ones in the process.

Unfortunately, the impact was that some individuals took to speculation regarding the former boyfriends that I eluded to in the post. The point of the post was not to throw anyone under the bus or paint anyone in a malicious light. I made sure to have an in-depth conversation with the man referenced in "my last serious relationship before meeting datemate" to let him know what I was writing about so that he would know that it was not about him or about our relationship, but about how my mental illness impacts my life. He gave me his blessing. We ended on good terms and continue to be on good terms.

Saying that, I have not always been the most upstanding person when it comes to dealing with exes and failed relationships. I would like to blame part of that on my obsessive behaviors or anxiety or depression, but there is no one or nothing to blame but me. The easy route has always been to hide behind my mental illness; yet, over the last few months I have learned that this doesn't make the hurt go away- it only spreads it wider and deeper. Sometimes hurt makes us say and do terrible, awful things. I have let wounds fester and resentment grow. For that, I am sorry. I am sorry for what I have said about others and for how that may have impacted their lives. I am sorry for who I let myself become at times.

Each relationship I have been in has helped to mold who I am today. However, those relationships are now over and are of our own private business. This blog is about my personal experiences with mental illness- I never want it to be construed any other way.

This is my life, my journey. I am still learning to stay healthy, be a better person, and let positivity prevail. Thank you for being a part of that.

Thank You.

Thank you so much to everyone for the outpouring of support after posting my first video blog yesterday- Minnie was super nervous to have her first debut on my blog and I was even more nervous to take this first step. My dream is to be able to inspire people through storytelling, to change the misconceptions surrounding mental illness, and to challenge others to find their courage to speak up. This project of mine- Curiosity, Courage, and Cake- feels like my first step to making that dream come true. I cannot say 'thank you' enough for the support and kind words. I'm really glad to have so many people be a part of this journey. Minnie is pretty excited about the whole thing too. She is already getting a big head from being featured in the video. Diva.