A Reflection of Honesty.

It has taken me over a week to work up the courage to post this, but I think it is really important to draw attention to issues that need change. I hope that this blog post is seen as such- a call to action- and not a piece rooted in judgement or malice.  

Every December, fraternity and sorority life professionals gather together to share new ideas, network with other professionals, and challenge the future of the fraternal movement. That week is one of the most draining, inspiring, challenging, and straight-up difficult of my year. After attending four previous annual meetings, I thought that I had gotten this conference hustle down pat- attending sessions, meeting up with old friends, making new connections. However, this annual meeting was different and I am leaving with a hint of frustration mixed in with my feelings of exhaustion and hope.

I have always been hyper-aware of my identity and how others may perceive the different layers that make me the person I am. This was the first year that my identity within the profession has changed. It was last year’s annual meeting that pushed me to start evaluating the front that I had used to protect myself from other’s judgment. Unfortunately, within my profession, there is a silent fog of hypocrisy that always rolls over our annual meeting. As educators, we teach authenticity, vulnerability, and compassion to our students; yet at our own yearly gathering, we often fail to check our own unpleasant actions and behaviors. We dress to the nines and celebrate the “fashion show” while slipping side eye towards those that don’t look the part. We build these inner circles and slip individuals up onto pedestals to create our own internal hierarchy that ostracizes many. We gossip and shame and judge and generate insincere personalities that are not reflective of our true selves. Of course, this is a broad generalization and not all fall prey to it, but it is something that many of my peers have complained about.

I will be the first to admit that I have played into this game for many years- I have my idols within the profession and have strategically saved up to buy all new clothes for each meeting and have yearned to wiggle my way into the elite inner circle of association celebrities. But I’ve grown tired of trying to be someone that I am not. Last year was my turning point- I left our meeting tired, unfulfilled, and disappointed. That was the catalyst to spark my own self-discovery that has led me on this new journey. How could I possibly be an advocate for authenticity, vulnerability, and compassion if I wasn’t living that life myself? I needed to look in the mirror.

That is one reason why I decided to start sharing my story. This professional woman with new clothes, a big smile, and compliment for everyone was not what she appeared to be. Beneath the red lipstick and Kate Spade bags was crippling anxiety, depression, self-loathing, and a little voice reminding me that I would never be good enough. I got tired of being two people. It was time to start sharing my story and embracing the person I was at my core, not just in my heels. In doing so, I deeply wove vulnerability into my identity- to be authentic is to be vulnerable. That has become a part of who I am.

Which made this meeting extraordinarily hard. Although I have surrounded myself with amazing friends and colleagues who are so supportive of what I am doing- sharing my personal story and working towards become a mental health advocate- I still experienced some of negative effects of my new identity. People I have known for years treated me differently- softer, like I was a fragile doll. When walking by a conversation, I caught the shifty eyes of someone who was caught talking about me. I had not anticipated this… in a hotel full of colleagues who believe in values congruence and building people up, I felt stripped down, alienated, and (once again) like I was not good enough.

So this is my call to action. One year ago, the annual meeting of my profession caused me to reevaluate the life I had been living and set me on an amazing path towards finding myself. This year, I am going to focus on how our systems, organizations, relationships can be made better by stripping down to the core of who we are, how we treat people, and intersectionality of the two.  What would our annual meeting look like if we could be real, like really real, with one another? What would our world look like? What changes could we make?

Next time you sit in front of a mirror, ask yourself “am I living a life that is reflective of who I truly am and who I strive to be?”  If the answer is no, change it. If the answer is yes, go forth and ask someone else the same questions. That is our challenge.

I Won't Be Silent.

I haven't wrote anything in a while. I have been afraid, ashamed- my confidence shaken. A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with someone that I look up to and they revealed (with no intended malice) that people had been talking about me and my willingness to be open about my struggle with mental illness. Hearing my story made people uncomfortable. In a small Southern town, such topics are not discussed out in the open... they are reserved for back porches and whispered breath.

Nearly a year after I had first shared my story through a video, I was heartbroken, embarrassed, scared, and uncertain. Had I made the right choice? Is my story worth sharing? Am I doing more harm than good? These questions filled my thoughts and made it impossible to even consider writing- wouldn't I just be giving "the talkers" more ammunition?

The last month has been FULL of changes and challenges. I have questioned whether or not my story is worth sharing. I have gotten engaged and started wedding planning. I have struggled with horrible anxiety. I have decided to move (again) for the 7th time in 8.5 years. I have finally figured out "what's next" in terms of my career. It has been easy to put off things like self-care, blogging, pursuing what makes me happy- storytelling.

But today, that changes. I have been so lucky to attend a general assembly for a fantastic group that focuses on the health and wellness of college students. We got to take best worst selfies together, talk about vulnerability and courage, and tackle the insane task of learning to love ourselves. I got to ask my favorite question- how are you... no really, how are you?

The bravery that I saw in that room reminded me of why it is so important to keep talking about the difficult topics. We cannot be silent. We must continue to tell stories to change lives. Because the most powerful weapon against fear is love and learning to love yourself may be the ultimate training for that battle.

Defining Courage.

When I first started this project, I thought I knew what courage meant. Courage was something within us that grows as we face challenges and separates the weak from the strong. It was something that not all of us have. Sometimes we may be forced into it, sometimes it would come naturally. Boy, I  was DEFINITELY MISGUIDED.

Courage is not some abstract thing inside of us. It is a choice. After I starting sharing my story, I felt that I had finally found my courage. I had arrived. But even know, nine months after I first shared my secret life with a mental illness, I still get nervous about telling new people. I am constantly faced with a choice: be brave or be silent. It is because of the stories shared with me- other people waging secret battles- that I continue to find the inspiration to be brave.

Make the courageous choice- whatever that may be for you. You never know when your courage will inspire someone else. What would this world look like if we all made the courageous choice?

"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." - Nelson Mandela

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!

Motivation Monday.

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.

Motivation Monday.

Know the Signs of Depression.

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

Motivation Monday.

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.

Wake-Up Wednesday.

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.

This is My Brave.

This Is My Brave, Inc., a 501(c)3 non-profit organization (http://thisismybrave.org) is the leading platform for individuals to share their stories of living successful lives despite a diagnosis of a mental health disorder through artistic expression (spoken word poetry, original music and essay readings) on stage in front of a live audience. We're opening up the conversation about mental health disorders in communities all across the country and beyond via our YouTube channel.

We're shining a light on mental illness because it has been in the dark too long. We're ending mental illness stigma, one story at a time.

"This Is My Brave - the Show" - 2016 Greenville performance

May 5, 2016 The Kroc Center, Greenville SC

Donate to This Is My Brave, Inc. to help us continue to shine a light on mental illness: http://thisismybrave.org/donate/

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.

My Depression Diet

Have you ever felt guilty after eating something you just know you shouldn't eat? Maybe tried slipping into your favorite jeans to realize that they are just a little too snug and then regretting every donut you have ever eaten? What about looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing nothing but every flaw? Now imagine those thoughts screaming at you non-stop, getting louder until you can't hear anything else. Welcome to your body with depression.

Recently, I decided that I was going to cut all refined sugar from my diet. Why you ask? Because I had convinced myself that cutting refined sugar would bring me closer to finding a mind-body connection, something that I have been seeking to reach ever since I started therapy again almost 2 years ago. The result was far from any sort of connection- I was grouchy, miserable, and craving Diet Coke, my kryptonite. But I did gain something: control.

Reflecting back on the day that I decided to cut sugar, I was knee-deep in stress from the end of the semester, working on my biggest project of the year, and confronting a nasty problem at work. I felt like I was losing control, so I looked for the easiest thing I could have power over: what I ate. This isn't the first time I have manipulated my diet or denied myself food in order to feel like I had some tiny bit of control in my life. This has been my relationship with food for the last 10 years. This has been my depression diet.

Although I have never been diagnosed with an eating disorder nor would I consider my eating habits to be distinctly unhealthy, I do acknowledge the fact that living with depression has forced me to be hyperaware of how I am treating my body. In the pursuit of the unattainable perfection I have always sought, I have tried to push myself towards a body that is perfect. Any pants above a size zero won't do, wearing a size medium shirt crushes my self-esteem. This has sometimes led to trying "get skinny fast" tricks or working out to my body's limit. Not being able to reach my dream body type overnight then led to deeper depression and a stronger feeling of helpless, thus pushing me to seek out ways to find control. It is an unending, unpleasant, and potentially dangerous cycle.

I believe that there is a way out. Learning to respect your body is one of the hardest things to accomplish when trying to overcome a mental illness. I have been angry at my body for cursing me with this illness, for not living up to my outrageous demands for perfection, for betraying me with its weakness. I have starved it, punished it, and disrespected it. But this body- stricken with depression and anxiety- is strong, resilient, and beautiful. It deserves to be loved as such.

I am still learning to love the body that I have lived with for 25 years. I am starting to give my body the respect it demands. Simply being aware of my eating habits and not letting myself get wrapped up in the numbers on the scale or how my jeans are fitting is the first, tiny step. Forgiving my body for its faults and pushing it towards new challenges is the next. Eventually, I hope love will come.

In the meantime, I am never, EVER giving up Diet Coke again.

Words for the Soul.