The Blame Game.

Today was a bad day. I knew when I woke up this morning that it was going to be hard to make it through today- that today, depression would win. It took me 3 hours to convince myself to get out of bed and another 2 hours to get ready to go to work. During that time, I processed through all the regular questions once again:

"If I don't go to work today, will I get fired? How bad would getting fired actually be? How long would I be able to live without a job? Does anyone even really need me at work today? What meetings do I need to reschedule? Do I even need to reschedule? Does everyone hate me?"

This internal barrage of questions is the hardest part of navigating my depression. The answers are always the same and always end up reaching the same conclusion- I am worthless, I am a burden, and everyone hates me. This toxic thinking bleeds into every aspect of my life and puts me in a terrible mood, thus making me a horrible person to be around. Today, I was grumpy, mean, and bitter. I complained more. I was short with people.

The easiest solution would be to simply change my thinking, right? This is the advice I have received over and over and over again- "if you just change your attitude, you wouldn't be depressed". It truly isn't that simple. Imagine the story of the little Dutch boy and the dyke that is leaking- there are a million little holes leaking poisoning thoughts into my brain and yet I only have a few fingers to plug these holes. No matter how hard I try- the thoughts do not stop, the attitude cannot be changed, the depression will win.

This story is not to garner sympathy or to play the game of "woe is me". I share this story because (I believe) one of the biggest misconceptions surrounding depression is that the sufferer is to blame for their disease, as one should always have control over what they feel. Depression is no one's fault- trust me, no one would ASK for this disease. It is ugly, it hurts, and it makes some days nearly impossible.

Today was a bad day.

I wish I could end with something positive here, but as I was reminded by a friend who also struggles with depression and anxiety- sometimes the story doesn't have a happy ending and that is okay... because tomorrow will come and it may not be the best or even a better day, but tomorrow will come and that is something to smile about.

How a Cat Saved My Life.

There are two things that anyone who meets me knows to be true: I am lowkey obsessed with my puppy and I am a very proud crazy cat lady. I'll share more about Minnie the puppy later- she has already had her 5 seconds of fame on this blog. Today is about Addy, my cat and the reason I am still here on this earth. The semester of college right after I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder was the worst of my life. I was in a terrible relationship with a real loser. I was on a highly competitive, world-ranked winterguard team which I never, ever felt good enough for. I stupidly decided to take on way too many credits in school. I had just joined my sorority and wasn't prepared for the time/energy/self commitment. I was struggling to figure out my identity as someone saddled with a mental illness. Essentially, I ran myself into the ground and then decided to dig a little bit deeper- just for good measure.

Somehow in the middle of all this, I found some time to adopt a kitten. I grew up around animals and had convinced myself that if I got a kitten, everything would magically get better. My aunt (another crazy cat lady) took me to the local Humane Society to "look around", knowing fully that I couldn't leave without my own ball of fur. So insert Addy- the cutest, spunkiest kitten you'll ever meet.

Unfortunately, getting a kitten didn't solve all of my problems- shocker, I know. I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into depression, which felt impossible to overcome. I felt like my only out would be taking my own life. Living each day was so hard- all I wanted was some peace. Suicide seemed so serene, like I could finally get some rest.

I planned everything out- I cleaned my apartment so no one would have to bother, figured out my method- something simple and painless, and wrote a goodbye to everyone that I loved. However, there was one problem. I had no idea how long it would take for someone to realize that I wasn't answering my phone or showing up to things. I was worried that Addy would have to go too long without someone giving her food or water. I couldn't be responsible for both of our deaths. So I drove the 45 minutes home to drop Addy off at my parent's house. That is when everything changed.

My mom had come home early from work that day and had already started dinner. My plan to drop off Addy and run was no longer feasible- I had to stay and pretend to be the happy, wonderful daughter and sister my family knew. It was all too much and for the first time in my life, I finally broke down and talked to my mom about what I was feeling. I told her I was so unhappy that I considered suicide. The pain in her eyes was more than I ever wanted to see. I knew I had to find my courage and do whatever it took to get better. I couldn't hurt my family by taking my life- my personal pain would never amount to the pain my death would have caused them.

I started seeing a new therapist the next week.

I will often think back to that day- my decision day where I chose life over death- and think about what would have happened if I had never gotten Addy or didn't care about her well-being. Suicide isn't rational- I'm thankful that it isn't. My concern for a kitten saved my life. So when people reproach me for being a crazy cat lady, I couldn't be more proud. For if it wasn't for a sassy cat and an irrational love, I wouldn't be here today.

Considering suicide? There is help. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is always there to listen- 1 (800) 273-8255.

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.

Some Stories are Worth Listening To

Regret.

Today, I am full of regret. It feels hypocritical because nearly every day I ask my students or my friends "what would you do without expectations, boundaries, or fear of failure?" By living this motto, you should never have regrets. Yet here I am. On January 8th, this world lost a truly amazing human being after a year long battle with cancer. Larry was my cousin- albeit if you looked at our family tree you wouldn't be able to easily figure out where he fit. He was married to an amazing woman that I grew up calling my cousin, even though we have no blood relation. She is the unofficial adoptive daughter of my mother's sister- yet you would never know that we weren't all blood related, as my aunt has more love than what could possibly all fit inside her tiny body. She has treated all of us- daughters, nieces, nephews, boyfriends, friends- as her own children. Larry was her son- no question about it.

The last time I saw Larry was 2 years ago at my grandfather's funeral. The last time I saw his youngest son, Mason- my second cousin or nephew as I call him- was when he was still in diapers, a baby just barely a year old. Mason and I nearly share a birthday. He turns 4 years old in August. Between moving away from home for graduate school and then getting a job out of state, it has been easy for me to make excuses not to come home- to alienate the people who have always been family. I have been scared that maybe I have changed too much, that they won't understand me or like me anymore, that I won't fit in. I have had family members turn their backs on me before and I think, in my mind, it would be easier to run away from them than to let them leave me. My own fear has cost me the chance to learn from one of the courageous men on this earth.

Larry was the type of person that rarely spoke, but when he did, you knew you were going to laugh. He was kind, goofy, caring, and witty. At our last Christmas together, I remember him cracking a joke about how incredibly weird the sisters (my mother and her 3 sisters) are. What he, nor anyone else at that gathering knew, was that I was teetering on the brink of a panic attack that night- I hate crowds and dislike Christmas because I feel so much pressure to make everyone else feel happy. I have to hide my anxiety. His jokes helped keep me calm. He helped save me from embarrassment.

When I found out that Larry had cancer, it was easy for me to pretend that it wasn't happening. He was in Florida, while I was in South Carolina. I would get updates via text or Facebook. It was like reading about someone else- not him. That made it easier to lessen the pain. It wasn't fair that something like this could happen to someone like him. Larry was a warrior, a fighter. He was a father of 5, an adoring husband, a hard-worker, even when his body was turning against him. Throughout the whole ordeal, he never lost his faith in God- a battle that I gave up on a long, long time ago. He had courage in the face of tremendous adversity. He was a hero.

I regret not taking the time to learn more from Larry. I regret letting my own fear of rejection keep me from the very family that has always been there for me. I regret not taking the time to simply reach out and ask what I could do to make things easier. I regret not coming home to see him one last time.

Regret doesn't really do much, other than make you feel lousy. But I think that lessons can be learned from regret. Don't wait to reach out to those that you love. Don't let your own selfish fear stand between you and the people who can change your life. Be courageous.

For you, Larry. I love you, I miss you, and I am so sorry I wasn't there.

LARRY ROBERTS, 39

Larry Roberts, 39 of Lakeland, FL, died peacefully at home Friday January 8th, 2016, surrounded by his family and friends. Larry was a warrior and fought a year long battle with cancer.

Larry was an employee for G&G Electric Company in Lakeland and they became his second family. He was a friend to many and was always willing to do whatever he could for whoever he met. The world was a better place with him in it. He was a member of Oasis Community Church.

Larry is survived by his wife of 12 years, Tamara Roberts and their 5 children: Cooper (8), Mason (3), Alexis (17), Mitchell (15) and Tristan (13) and many other family and friends. The family will receive guests from 3 to 5 p.m. January 24th with a service at 5 p.m. at Oasis Community Church. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the C-5 Youth ministries at Oasis Community Church.

A good name is better than fine perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth. Ecclesiastes 7:1

You Have a Voice. Use It.

[ted id=1100] "It's what I strive for every time I open my mouth- that impossible connection." - Sarah Kay

Sarah Kay is one of my favorite spoken word poets. Through her elaborate method of storytelling, she shares her values, her pain, her hopes, and her successes. Simply by listening to her words through a computer speaker, we are able to make the "impossible connection" and share in her life- even for a brief moment.

Some say that storytelling is an art, only to be perfected by a select few. I say that is stupid. Storytelling is what we do every time we meet someone new, every time we start a conversation, every time we take a moment to say hello. Every interaction we have with another person lends itself to sharing some sort of story. However, we often view our opportunities to share stories with others as business transactions- let me tell you something for something in exchange. We only share stories that are limited by our fear of what the other person may think about us. For example, when meeting a new person, we may share our name, what we do for a living, and where we are from in exchange for the same information from them. By taking this approach, we lose the chance to be vulnerable and courageous- to share who we are as a person through the exchange of stories.

There is a concept called the "Enneagram of Personality", which categorizes individuals into 9 different personality types. I fall into the personality of the Individualist, known as expressive, dramatic, self-absorbed, and temperamental. Although I (and the majority of my friends) will never argue against any of those labels, there was one aspect that took me aback when learning more about the Individualist. Those who have this personality are known for wearing a mask- creating a secondary life to share with others, yet keeping who they truly are a secret from the world. When I first read this description, I was angry and tried to think of all the ways that the entire principle of the Enneagram are wrong- aka dramatic and temperamental. However, as time has gone on, I realize how true that description actually is and how the Individualist could actually be used to describe the normative standard of today.

Through the way that we interact with others, we create an image or brand that we often refuse to let go of- even if it means losing out on the opportunity to have genuine, vulnerable relationships with others. We conduct business transactions instead of sharing stories. We fear putting our mask aside and letting who we truly are come through. My challenge to you (oh yeah, getting personal now) is to share 1 story with the next person you interact with. 1 story that shows who you really are. It can be as simple as explaining what made you happy today or the most beautiful thing you've seen this week- all I ask is that you take a moment to be vulnerable, be courageous, be a storyteller.

What's in a Name?

Curiosity, Courage, and Cake. Sounds like a new show on TLC, doesn't it? Unfortunately, for those of you that still have a hole in your heart after the cancellation of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, this isn't a new TV show. Its not the latest cupcake cookbook; its not the tagline of the next Alice in Wonderland movie.

It is a way of thinking that has helped me overcome some of the most difficult challenges I have faced in my short, but chaotic lifetime. I created this website to help others discover how a little bit of curiosity can change your entire life... a whole lot of courage is necessary if you are gonna make it out there... and there is nothing, NOTHING that can't be made a little bit better with cake.

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." --Maya Angelou

Every experience, interaction, moment in time helps to define who we are and where we will go. Sharing stories is how we, as a society, shape our reality. Sometimes, it is easy to boil all of what has shaped us down into three little words- curiosity, courage, and cake- and other times, it take a novel. This is my story.